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I find reminiscing about the night before doesn’t usually draw many positives from your wallet. In fact, head pounding, bucket by the bed, unless there is a gorgeous girl in your bed, it is pretty hard not to utter the age old phrase, ‘I’m never drinking again.’
I woke up this morning and the aforementioned regret was in full force on my forehead. Walking home, I reached in my wallet and there was nothing for lunch or the bus fare, which was when I realised where it went…
When you tire of waiting in the lines for World Bar in Kings Cross or are generally deemed to drunk to enter, turn your head to The Club. From the outside it doesn’t exactly scream space, a cavern-like entrance thronged with onlookers.
But walk past the stock standard, thickset Bouncers and their questions, ‘How much have you had to drink last night?’ you will see that it opens up hugely. Couches line the floor, and a stripper pole is erected up from the dance floor. It somehow keeps an image of a cosy niche, while entertaining as many guests as can fit through it’s doors.
To find this out as I did this Saturday night, however, you have to give up your twenty-five dollar cover charge. While this is a standard for clubs in the cross, especially on a long weekend, as a student I was only towed along by the prospect of women already inside.
And I was to be proved right! The room proved to be bustling with as many women as would fit! Whether the subject of Bouncer scrutiny or chance, The Club definitely pulled through there. My eyes out on stalks, and not noticing where I was going I tripped over on my way to the bar.
Which brings me to my only criticism of The Club, while it is entitled to high drink and cover costs, the presence of gargantuan couches on the way to the bar, cramped proceedings. This wasn’t Oxford Street, this was the Cross. Come on people, no one actually goes out of the way to the biggest red light district in Australia to sit down, unless they are engaging in a more private dance.
This all said, I cannot fault anything about The Club, its sticky floor, high drink prices, raging DJ’s and sleazy guarantee are what makes the Cross the Cross.
I woke up with a girl in her bed on the other side of the University of Sydney, so for that I thank you, The Club.
By Dashiell Moore