What Has Nightlife Become?
To clarify, this wasn't a typical night.
What started out as a fun adventure turned obscene. A few of my closest friends were playing at a new club. I definitely needed a heavy dose of escapism that week so I was all systems go.
Before I continue, I never set out to write to call anyone or anywhere out specifically. So I'm not naming places. But the absurdity of it all just beckoned me to write. Because I definitely live in a bubble. It's an exquisite bubble, musically and culturally. But dipping my toe into normulan nightlife culture I'm shocked. This is it?!
I was accosted by some sort of foam material being blown out of a newsstand coming in. I know I'm bringing the drama, but personally I don't like it. Anywho, I dodged the foam and walked in. Wild. Wow. Unlike any nightclub I've ever been to. And that says a lot.
I'm here for experiences unlike my typical tastes, so I excitedly continued past people who were handing out fake glasses and trinkets in the entryway. The main floor is carpet, including the dancefloor. Let's start there. Shag carpet is not a dancefloor. And that's not my opinion, ask any professional dancer and they'll tell you the same. Carpet aside, I was here for the wonderland bonkers-ness.
Like, what's happening?! Over the DJ booth was some sort of numbers (perhaps lottery) looking light up panel. There's a stage, which isn't for me, but I get it for the type of nightclub it is. What looks like the bar has an umbrella over it like a street vendor. Cute for what it is, ok.
I ventured downstairs where my friends were playing. The ceiling was every kind of light you can imagine, but not turned on thankfully. Pendants of all types- a camping light and a fluorescent light and so on. Just the shell, so clever. Thankfully, the floor downstairs was a hard surface so I had a sigh of relief that I'd be able to dance. I was so bewildered by the experience that my jaw was on the floor for at least 20 minutes.
I ran around to every level and every room (there are three). A hall of mirrors leading to a bathroom that looked like a temporary tattoo shop. There's a blackjack table. I hit 21 on my bet which was a bandaid and won a Mary Kay trial product.
There's a karaoke room. Yes, that's right, karaoke. I walked up to people belting out “You're So Vain, You Must Think This Song is About You” which until that night, I had never heard out. There's even a seance room, which I tentatively peeked my head in. Though tonight was about fun and games, this out of the ordinary club was very much giving adult playground ridiculousness. But then again, I’m here as a tourist and my brain was working overtime to suspend disbelief.
The music on the main floor was well…there's no other way I can say it other than it was wedding music. Bell Biv DeVoe “Poison” came on, which is the song that I choreographed a number to for my bat-mitzvah dance. Human League, “Working as a Waitress at a Cocktail Bar” played as well. I like that song, but it wasn’t a slick edit or mixed in cleverly. It could have been playing from Spotify for all I know. All around the main floor were theatrics abound and flash and dazzle type performers.
It was when I went back downstairs that things became increasingly puzzling. They were handing out tchotchkes to people on the dancefloor. A temporary tongue piercing that glows. A friend was handed a glow stick which I snatched from them and promptly threw in the bathroom trash. A tiny plastic hand clapper on a stick. A drug baggie with a spoon. Which was preposterous because you couldn’t have two people in a stall. I know, because my friend and I were told to get out by security maybe 30 min before. I’m not sure if it was because of the coed nature of the scenario, because I heard groups of girls in the bathroom stalls later that night.
It continued to go downhill when I sat down at a table behind the DJ booth. My friends and I had been hanging out there all night. There were bottles, mixers and drinks glasses for the DJs and guests. At one point, as I'm sitting by myself, someone approached me and said “you need to move, they're coming” and then walked away. I had never seen this person in my life and was confused. Were they a fucked up patron or did they work there? My friends noticed and they spread out amongst the other seats.
A few moments later and a few other people started talking to my friends as they're DJing. It had been clear to all of us that the booth was an artists’ area. Literally no one said boo to us about hanging out there (including the manager) for hours. It quickly became clear that these people definitely worked there and were guest services. I was perturbed. Why are you bothering your artists in the middle of their set with something so avoidable? So unprofessional. I was so disturbed by my friends having to deal with this bullshit while DJing that I let them know how unprofessional they were being and that I'd never seen anything like that happen in my 28 years of nightlife.
I sat back down and about 5 minutes later the floor manager stormed over and leered over me aggressively yelling things I couldn't understand. Literally, it was angry garbldygook. I said to him “why are you yelling at me and what are you saying?” He paused briefly and started in again. I stillI couldn't understand him, so I repeated what I had just asked.
He turned on his heels quickly and bolted off. If any of the people working there would have politely explained who they were and what they needed, nothing would have escalated. It was so stupid. That's when security showed up. I thought I was getting kicked out (which would be a first), but no, they were clearing the area. My friends and I headed to the dancefloor.
As we danced we looked out for the high rollers with a bottle service table. No shade, just curiosity because it was clearly incredibly important for the business at the expense of their other guests. And here's the kicker, no one came. Not one person was seated there the rest of the night. Also, I've never had a manager of a club, or any establishment- a bar, restaurant or a store yell in my face like that. I'm a guest and apparently, this is how they treat those who patronize their club. Unless of course they're VIP bottle service. So gross.
Yes, it's a club and whatever values (or lack thereof) they have, they need to make money to operate. But any guest should be treated with the same amount of respect that they give to their VIPs. Because that is a piss poor reflection of how society works in action at the “party.” It's gross. It's vile. And I want no part of that.
I needed to drastically change my energy so went for another wander upstairs hoping to have some wacky absurdity to lift my spirits. It's when I ordered a spirit the that absurdity began again. I asked for a Hennessy and Coke. The bartender grabbed a bottle which was clearly a pricier step up from the standard VSOP. I think it was XO. This girl watches her dollars so you better believe I asked how much it was before he made that drink. $38. Yes, that's right. Bonkers.
I asked for another drink which they didn't have and decided to get water. The bartender, who was so lovely, said he makes a great sidecar so I said, why not. The mixologist did his thing and then placed a tiny delicate stemmed glass down. $25. What?! Crazy town. It's usually $15-19 for a proper sized one. I sipped my petite drink and reflected. There were a lot of signs that this actually was not a nightclub. I realized it was an experiential place like Sleep No More or an escape room.
Then it all started making sense. It's fine that they do that as a business, but why on earth are they presenting it as a nightclub? A nightclub is not a circus of activities at every corner to distract you from what ultimately most of us (or on this occasion so I thought) are here for, which is music and dancing. To each their own, but not for me. And when I thought about it further, music is definitely not their center point. They don't even announce who's playing. That can work when it’s a well known curated club or party that has a defined taste level and a consistent selection of high quality artists. But this place was eons from that type of establishment.
I decided to stay and ride it out with my friends who were DJing and going through it with their own ludacris issues. Such as the unstable piano that was whittled into a “DJ booth” that made mixing a nightmare. They’re professionals, so the music was still incredible as per usual. I was counting the minutes until it was over as I ordered water at the bar. Points to the money grubbing club because after I paid $5 for a bottle earlier in the night they started giving me glasses of tap water for free. The bartender grabbed a glass from a suspiciously dirty looking place. I have actual OCD, so to save myself the mental anguish of the germs I ordered a bottle. I did a double take at the receipt and my eyes bugged out. $12. Yes, $12 for 12 ounces.
And then, it was finally over. My friends packed up their gear and we fled the scene to the closest pizza place to breathe and regroup after the catastrophe of an excuse for a club we were just a party to. Never again. Not for me. Again, to each their own- but don't call yourself a nightclub when you're clearly not.
People want and look for different things with their nightlife experience. Facts. It will always be that way. But is this the direction club culture is headed? Will the expectations of the masses evolve in the direction of an amusement park? Will the intent of the night turn into the social media content capture bonanza that so many already treat it as? I certainly hope not. Because with that shift, the depth of soul which makes nightlife so unique, enriching and beautiful can diminish quickly, at what I believe to be at the detriment of society at large.