jrb

I was in the city to meet a friend on sunday afternoon and parked right across the street on Varick. It was about 1:45pm and the music was still pumpin, there was someone at the door, and some people chillin outside. Seems like it has something going for it to still be going at that hour...

Budapest is probably more forward than whatever shitty little town in jersey you're from. And I dont think they eat rice and beans there - thats more South American Just for the record i am not Hungarian.

Whats up everyone... I will be taking a trip to Vienna and Budapest in early september and was wondering if anyone has had the opportunity to experience the nightlife there. Im definately interested in seeing how they party over there. Let me know if you have any advice on clubs...etc... Thanks!! jrb

Unfortunately I couldn't make it last night, but I am anxious to hear about how things went. Looking forward to hearing what everyone has to say!! John

Heavyhitter- I went to S&M at Pacha about 2 months ago and Vibe about 3 weeks ago. I wore the sneakers (black puma's), jeans, and a tshirt and was fine both times. I definately saw white sneakers in there both times. No issues for me whatsoever. Though I did get there early (before 11:30) both times. See you saturday!!

I did a BP recently... Old Homestead Steakhouse first - they got us free passes to Privelege strip club (paid for drinks on our own) - Crobar was 125 a head which was used on 125 in drinks however you wanted. For example - there was 10 of us so we had a 1250 tab to use on bottles, beer, even water and gatorade. Plus 20% gratuity of course. Have fun john

Whats up everyone... Considering the recent changes, do you think it will be worth it to give factory one last go this sunday morning? Also, do you think it will still go long enough to get there early morning? Thanks John

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As we exit the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, Jason bears to the left so that we can get onto the West Side Highway. I’m sitting in the back seat of his black 1984 Cadillac, which comes complete with red leather interior. “Once we hit 28th, make a right.” I state. “We can take that over to 11th and there should be parking there.” “Yea, there usually is, right near the park.” Affirms Dave. It’s the middle of March, but it is unseasonably warm outside. “Yo, I think that I’m just gonna leave my jacket in the car tonight so I don’t have wait on that fuckin coat check line.” I say. Jason and Dave both agree and decide to do the same. We pull up on the right side of the street and grab a spot immediately. It’s a tight one, especially considering the size of the boat that we’re driving. After a few attempts, Jason manages to squeeze his Caddy between the two cars. We step outside and remove our jackets, throwing them on the back seat. “Everyone got everything?” I ask. We all pat ourselves down quickly while Dave and I grab our backpacks. “Yup.” Answers Dave. “Let’s go!” Says Jason. We head down 28th street for about a half-block and hang a left onto 11th avenue. We make the next right onto 27th. We saunter along, passing Twilo, a few crowds of club-goers, and all the usual entrepreneurs. “X, X, X…K, K, K…” They whisper. We walk right past. No need for them tonight. We hop on the line and step up to the big Spanish dude. He checks my I.D. and hands it back to me. He does the same for Dave, who is right behind me. Then he takes Jason’s. “Sorry buddy. This isn’t you.” He states, moving right to the next patron. “Get off the line.” Jason turns to us. “Shit. Alright, you guys go in and I’ll try Kurfew.” He says. “Go for it. We’ll meet you at the main bar.” I reply. Dave and I walk up the steps and go through the motions: get frisked, pay, check the coat; wait a second…we won’t need to bother with that one tonight. Nice. We step over to the main bar and buy a bottle of water. We lean back against the metal of the bar and face the big hallway, anxiously waiting for Jason to enter and tell us about what he needed to do in order to in through Kurfew - hopefully nothing too bad. He finally strolls over ten minutes later, telling us that he just had to lift up his shirt and show off his six-pack for the doorman. Eh, I could deal with that. At least they didn’t ask him to kiss the guys standing behind him, as they are notorious for doing if they suspect that you are straight. Our next stop: the bathroom, but not to take a piss. We get to the bathroom and we each enter a stall. I take a set of three green pills with “RN” stamped on them out of my sock from deep down below my ankle. Clear Saran-wrap holds them together. The others take out their products, from where, I couldn’t tell you. I drop my first hit and exit the stall. We all gather and leave the bathroom, heading towards the mezzanine near the stairs. We give each other a pound and a slam on the back. It’s on. Little did we know, but this would be our last night at the Tunnel. Several weeks earlier, a young man from Long Island named Jeremy Lyons had died from a drug overdose at the club. The Tunnel was temporarily shut, only to reopen again recently. Jeremy’s death sparked a huge media response and a powerful backlash from the city. Mayor Rudolph Giuliani and the Deputy Mayor, Rudy Washington, were on a mission to shut down not only the Tunnel, but Peter Gatien’s other club, the Limelight, as well as Twilo, Soundfactory, and all other “public nuisances.” Whether or not we actually realized that this would be our “last hurrah”, so to speak, it didn’t matter. We had been to the Tunnel several times since January and always partied as if it were not only our last night at the club, but our last night on this earth. We held nothing back and stepped up the intensity every time by staying out later, using more “enhancements,” and bringing along “goodies,” like the ones in my back pack tonight. Every individual at the club did their own thing to make the experience as amazing as possible. But regardless of who you were or what you did, we all went all-out, we all made it unique, and… …we all did it up “Tunnel-style.” The group that I am a part of tonight is a perfect example of the Tunnel’s diversity. Dave rocks Khaki pants and a shiny, button down shirt that looks like it is straight from Bang-Bang. Jason is in black slacks and a white tank top, which isn’t long for his chest anyway. As for myself: jeans, sneakers, and a blue Nautica T-shirt are the order of the day, as usual. Although we all attend the same school and are in the same grade, we never really talk much during the days in between bouts at the Tunnel. We hang out with completely different crowds and hail from vastly different neighborhoods. But when the time comes, we draw together like a band of brothers who exist for a common cause. That cause: To party as hard as fucking possible – first time, every time, no matter what. And that we did. Enough of the over-dramatics. Now back to the good stuff. We hit the mezzanine and the DJ is pounding hard trance. We grab a seat and bullshit a little about what happened that week during school. Blah, Blah, Blah… …20 minutes go by. It is now 12:30. I run down the steps for a second to take a peak at the coat-check line, which serves as the perfect barometer of how the club is doing on a particular night. People are crowding the entire length of the window, about 40 feet, and filling the space back to the steps leading to the main bar. It’s packed. Looks like this is shaping up to be a good one. I hop back up to the mezzanine and grab my seat. As Jason begins speaking to me again, I notice him licking his lips pretty frequently. He shifts his jaw to the side a few times and…and…wait a second… I feel a light surge hit my body. I shift my position and along comes another surge. I am still looking at Jason, but he appears different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but different. I glance at Dave and he is staring off to the side. His eyes are a little droopy and he adjusts his lower jaw a few times. I focus on myself and look towards my feet. I move them back and forth a little and experience a warm feeling behind my knees, which are pressed against the seat. I look back up at the guys. “Yo, lets take a walk.” I state. “Sure.” They both reply. We head down the steps and toward the hallway on the side of the club that leads to Kurfew. We grab a couch in one of the alcoves, opposite another group of patrons, which includes two guys and two girls. My hands begin to receive sensations of enhanced sensitivity. I place a fist into the opposite palm and rub it powerfully. My eyes flutter slowly a few times and my tongue explores the inside of my mouth, leaving a temporary sense of tenderness at each place it chooses to stop. My eyelids feel heavy and my sight shifts slowly from one spot to another. I stop at Jason. He looks at me with a grin while bouncing his head to the beat emanating from the main floor. He grinds his jaw and puts out his hand. I give him a pound. “What’s up guys?” Asks one of the girls sitting across from us. “Not much.” I answer. “Where are you from?” “We’re all from Staten Island. You?” “Brooklyn. My name is Stephanie.” I introduce myself, as well as Jason and Dave. The rest of the group extends their hands and tells us their names: Joey, Michael, and Jenny. We go through the usual introductory stuff: ages, schools, jobs, etc. I decide that it’s time to break out the goodies. I take off my backpack and open it. “Anyone want a blow-pop?” I ask. Smiles flash on all four faces in front of me. “Hell yea! What flavors do you have?” “Take your pick.” I state. They reach in a shift the pile around a little bit before choosing. They all remove their hands with one piece of candy. “Thanks, bro. That’s awesome!” Proclaims Joey. I smile in return. I feel the warmth that was once limited to the back of my knees spreading throughout my body. It works its way from my hands, up my arms, and throughout my chest. My thighs tingle as well. I can feel my jaw shifting as I tighten my lips. I open my bottle of water and take a big gulp, followed by another. Our new friends across from us open their treats and begin to work on them. I notice that Dave has got one from his stash and is sucking away. Heavy eyelids and an intense focus on the lollipops characterize the group. I never really eat them myself, but they sure do have a way of exciting people. Dave really struck a cord when he came up with the idea in the first place. Good job Dave. After a few minutes, I decide to walk around. About this time every night, we usually split up and explore individually. “Alright fellas, I’m off.” I state. They nod in agreement. They already have their knees tucked into their chests and are swaying their heads to the beat. Maybe that’s why they nodded. “We’ll meet at the main bar at about 4 to check in.” I say. Dave gives me a thumbs up, but there is a slim chance of it actually happening. I throw my bag on my back and head off down the hall with the bathroom in mind. That’s the place I usually like to hit up early in the night when things get going. A lot of people pass through there. Although a dopiness manifested itself earlier, I now feel energetic. My mind is moving quicker than my feet as I walk along, making eye contact with as many people as possible. I toss out a few high-fives to some familiar faces. I make my way up the steps, which takes several minutes due to the large crowd that has formed. The place is packed and the vibe is strong. This is going to be a great night, I can feel it. I make it to the bathroom and make a sharp right. I hit up the urinals, but my efforts are fruitless. It’s hitting me hard now and pissing is usually a problem. I walk back around the corner and grab a seat on the tiled protrusion opposite the sinks. “Mind if I sit?” I ask a group of guys already occupying the space. “No problem, bro.” One of them states as he moves to open a space. I take the seat and begin chatting. Soon enough, the blow-pops come out and the place goes crazy. Not only are the guys that I’m with reaching around inside my bag, but about a dozen other people have formed a crowd, waiting to take a pick. Comments come from left and right. “Nice, man!” “Thanks, kid!” “Great idea!” “Nice one!” After a while of spreading joy in the bathroom, the energy kicks in hard. My eyes flash from smiling face to smiling face. My jaw has taken on a life of its own and I chug my water after refilling it at the sink. I decide to go with it and let loose a little by hitting the main floor. I make my way down the steps, this time the set behind the bathroom bar. My goal is to avoid the crowd on the other staircase. I stride along past the coat check, up the steps near the main bar, then down two steps onto the main floor. I love that feeling. It is like stepping into another world. The lights flash. The people move. The music pounds. “It began…in…Africa…” Pumps through the powerful sound system. I move through the crowd and find a spot on the floor towards the side, near one of the enormous speakers. I put my bag on the floor in the corner and dance a little by myself in front of the woofer. It feels good to get the energy out. I am alone, but I am not. I am with everyone on the floor. No words are spoken, but they don’t need to be. We are there together – it’s understood. I bust out a few halfway decent moves to the track, and decide to stay for a while to burn this energy. I am engulfed in the music and crowd when I notice things get a little clearer. I look at my watch. Indecipherable. Either way, it’s time for another hit. I head towards the hallway and grab a seat in one of the alcoves. I take out my wallet and grab one of my “green RN’s,” gulping it down with my tap water. Time for round two. I head back through the hall and notice a few familiar faces. The blow pops come out and the smiles spread. We exchange a few words before I head to the hardcore room. I take the back steps and emerge from behind the bar in the bathroom. At the bar, I notice a girl with her top pulled down around her stomach as she shows off her nipple rings. One guy decides that they look tasty and begins to fondle her nipple with his tongue. She seems fine with it. Lucky for him. I head into the hardcore room and observe the pit for a little while. My energy level isn’t as high as it was, and I don’t feel particularly inclined to hop in. I grab a table with a couple of girls and introduce myself. They happen to be from Staten Island as well, so we go through all the usual hometown bullshit: “Oh, you go to Farrell? Do you know Jimmy or Mikey or Bobby or Billy?” “Oh, you girls go to New Dorp? Do you know Shelly or Timmy or Richie or Joey?” Blah, blah, blah… The time is a little past 3 in the morning. I feel a wave of surges hit me from the second pill. They are not as pronounced this time, they never are with the second pill, but they are still noticeable. There goes my jaw. There go my eyes. Down goes the water. The euphoria returns. This time it is stronger, but without the energy. My eyelids are heavy, hell; my whole body is heavy, as I make a circle around the room. I complete my circle and then head back the other way, just checking everything out. Amazing how interesting average things are at the moment. A table, a couch, even the damn floor commands my full attention as I stroll along. I head out to the bathroom and stop off for another try at the urinal. I push. No, wait, you’re supposed to relax. I relax. 30 seconds…1 minute…90 seconds…ahhhhh. Finally. There we go. Now I can get on with things in comfort. I hit the mezzanine. The DJ is playing hard trance, while half of the area’s inhabitants dance to his sounds. The rest are sitting along the edges. Special K is popular in this room. It’s small, dark, and out of reach. Anything goes in here. Let’s have a seat and see what happens. “Do you not cross the borderline…between good and evil…” Pumps through the speakers as the DJ spins the popular Cosmic Gate track. I notice the guy next to me. He has a hat on and his eyes are closed as he rests his head against the back of the couch. I nudge him on the shoulder. “You’ve got to find your own state of mind…” The track continues. “Hey bro, you alright?” I ask. He opens his eyes slowly and looks in my direction. “You’re reaching out for another world…a place where dreams come true…” He opens his mouth wide before actually speaking. “Yea, bro. Want some K?” “A place…to create…a mental atmosphere…” The track sounds its famous riff and the cymbals start to kick, building in anticipation of the bass drop. “Yea. Let me get a bump, if that’s cool.” He takes out a small brown jar and unscrews the cap. I put out my fist, thumb facing up. He proceeds to tap gently, but like what most people who are fucked up would do, he spills it. I am left with a hefty mound of white powder on my hand – with only one place for it to go. The cymbals come to a halt and the bass drops hard. I rip the mound. I take a few extra sniffles just to be sure. Here comes the drip. I down some water to help it along. I put my head back… Purple tints the outside of my vision. I glance slowly from left to right. My eyes move slower than my brain, as I remain fixated on each spot for a delayed moment of time. Light seems to travel slower than sound, or maybe light is just traveling much faster than sound…hard to tell. Things… up… seem… mixed…all… Things seem all mixed up. I notice something, but fail to notice that I notice it until a few seconds later. Sometimes I notice things before I actually notice them. Getting all this? My legs go numb and it is obvious that I won’t be moving for a little while. My hands feel detached…my head feels detached. It’s as if I have taken a step back and I am watching my situation play out from the perspective of someone else. I move my feet slightly. They feel numb and heavy. I move my hands. They feel detached and light. I move my head, left to right, right to left. It stays centered. This is not a good feeling. It has erased my euphoria and replaced it with a heavy sense of displacement. Am I going to puke – no. Am I going to pass out – don’t think so… I sit and wait patiently (as if I have a choice) for the numbness to subside, so that I can get up and work this feeling out of me. The lights still flash in purple, while my feet and hands remain unresponsive. As for my head, it’s off in another part of the club as far as I’m concerned. Minutes go by. Hours…days…years… The sensations return to my appendages. My head joins the rest of my body - good to have you back, buddy. I move my feet and they respond dutifully. Time to go… I get back to my feet slowly. Things are a little wobbly at first, as I struggle to regain my equilibrium. Eventually I head back to the bathroom (not necessarily in the straightest line) to throw some water on my face and refill my bottle. I hit the urinals…relax…relax…ahhh. 2-for-3 tonight. Not bad. It is now a little past 4am. I head down to the main bar to meet the boys. Not there. No surprise. I head through the big hallway. I grab my third pill, a little ahead of schedule. My trip to the K-hole pushed me along faster. Round three. I move back through the hallway and a few new people approach me. “Hey man, you the guy with the blow-pops?” “That’s me.” I reply as I open my backpack. Only a few left. Amazing how fast 100 of these things go… I let them have the rest. Out of business for the night. I make a trip around the club, hitting all the major areas to see if I can find the guys. No luck. The third pill kicks in. Dopey again. Oh well. I head to the main floor and sit on one of the platforms that flank both sides. I squeeze next to a few people who look like they are taking a guided tour of a K-hole at the moment. I put my head back and let the music take me on a journey. Sweat pours down my face as I chug my water from time to time. The music is pounding and the energy on the floor is explosive. The crowd is going wild. I open my eyes occasionally to observe the floor. It is filled with smiling faces and energy. There are several people with glow sticks attached to strings, which they swing in a variety of patterns, creating wild visions as they rip through the air. A familiar beat kicks in and the energy of the floor rises. The track breaks and the lights go out. The glow sticks come to a halt. The anticipation builds. “So let me take you…on a trip…” Echoes throughout the floor. “Let me take you on a ride…” The bass kicks. The crowd erupts with a deafening cheer. “So let me take you…on a trip…” The track repeats. A mild drum kicks in, providing a beat for the floor. The intensity of the roar continues to build. “Let me take you on a ride…” “So let me take you…on a trip…” “Let me take you…on a ride…ride…ride…” The cymbals begin to kick, getting faster and faster. “ride…ride…ride…ride…” The mantra continues at an increasing pace. The song continues to build in intensity and speed, encouraging the floor to do the same. Glow sticks fly through the air faster than before and the crowd moves, trying to keep pace with the lightening fast chorus. “ride…..ride….ride…ride..ride.ride” BOOM. The bass erupts and the track’s energetic anthem kicks in hard. The entire crowd is in a frenzy as I observe and feed off of the energy. I bop my head back and forth, unable to stop the power of the track from affecting me. The surges come hard and fast now, following the pace of the track. I feel the rush originate in my stomach and pump into my arms and legs, spreading all the way through my fingers and toes. I remain in the same spot for a while, until the intensity of the rush begins to diminish. I decide that it’s time to take a walk around and see who I run into. Maybe I’ll actually find the rest of my group. Probably not. I hop off of the platform and make my way through the dance floor crowd. No easy task at this point. It is almost 6 in the morning and the place is packed to the fullest extent. I hit the usual areas and run into Jason in the bathroom. He is with a girl, and his tank top is nowhere to be found. Figures. We chat for a second and it is obvious that we won’t be leaving for a while. I make my way out of the bathroom and into the hardcore room, where I find Dave relaxing on one of the couches. I am reveling in all this newfound success with my searching. He has just bought another hit. That seals it. We will be staying for a while. At this point, I am coming down from my third pill. Since we have a while to go, I decide that I should buy another. I walk past several dealers, ignoring them completely. You don’t just buy drugs from anyone in here. I make my way to the mezzanine. I saw some familiar faces in there earlier – people who I know have real shit. I hit the room and immediately see one of the guys I have in mind. He is medium height and has a thin build. He is wearing sneakers, jeans, and an A/X T-shirt. I approach him. “Hey.” I whisper in his ear. “You sellin tonight?” “How many?” He replies. “Just one.” I state. “Twenty-five.” Normally I would try to haggle him down, but since I am just getting one, and it is 6 am, I go with it. I already have the money ready, folded into a small rectangle. I take the pill from him and put it to my tongue. Bitter. Should be good. I hand him the money low and give him a pat on the back. He returns the gesture. We part ways and I swallow the pill immediately. Round four begins. I make my way past the coat check area and notice that the line is still huge, now from a combination of people coming and leaving. I spend a little while roaming around the club, talking with people, both new and familiar, and sit on the dance floor platform. By 7am, the energy is still as high as ever and the music has only gotten harder and faster. The next two hours go by in a flash of strobes and smiles. By 9am, I find myself in the bathroom, where I run into Dave. He mentions that he hasn’t seen Jason in a while, so we go off to search. Our travels stop in the chandelier room, where Jason is passed out on a couch. We wake him up and he immediately regains his sense of orientation: who he is, where he is, etc. Good sign. We stroll around the club together, stopping to chat here and there, and end up in the good old bathroom. This place never fails. We sit on the tile protrusion and Dave begins talking with a few girls, both of which are dressed scantily and are wearing dual pigtails and sucking on pacifiers. Going for the baby-look, I guess. Before long, Dave has a pacifier in his mouth, followed by the tongue of the matching girl. After Dave finishes robbing the cradle, we stroll around a little and end up running into some friends from Jersey near the coat check. We hang out there for a while and discuss the events of the previous night, as well as the next time we all plan to do it again. We exchange phone numbers. Before we know it, it is well after 10am. A large bouncer with dreadlocks approaches us. “Club is closing, people. Ya’ll gotta leave.” He states in quite a manly voice. I look out past the main bar and the dance floor is empty. A couch is blocking the entrance to the main staircase. We seem to be the only people left. We have officially closed the Tunnel. We all give our goodbyes and leave as the Jersey crew grabs their jackets. Dave, Jason, and myself head to the exit. We open the doors and a burst of sunlight hits our eyes. The sun is high and bright, but it has gotten pretty cold outside. Maybe we should have taken our jackets, especially considering the amount of people left at this point. We put our hands in our pockets and start down 27th street towards 11th avenue. We are all wide-awake and giddy from the night before - another great experience at the Tunnel. We had completed our mission. We had partied as hard as fucking possible… First time, every time. No matter what.

As we step out of the subway station on the corner of 28th street and 7th avenue, the feeling of excitement hits me as sharply as the cold, January air. “Yo, which way is it?” Asks Mark. “To the right, through the FIT campus, I think.” Says Mario. “Yea, that’s were all the fags learn how to design ugly clothes and paint gay-ass pictures.” States Billy. We all let out a little bit of laughter edged with anxiety “Wait, let’s stop at this Pizzeria for a bite to eat real quick.” Says Donnie “Sure, whatever you want.” I reply in tone marked with anxiousness. The six of us step into the pizzeria and order some slices and some sodas. As I grow more excited, some nervousness creeps in as well. I let my slice sit there as I sip Sprite from a can. I notice that some of my friends are allowing their pizza to sit and get cold as well. I’m sure that they are feeling the same way I am. After all, we’re in for a big night. After about 15 minutes of bullshitting and wasting perfectly good pizza, we decide to drop our first hit. Donnie takes the circular shaped pills out of his pocket. They are pinkish-red and resemble alien flying saucers. “I guess that’s why they are called ‘red ufo’s.’” I think to myself. We all use what is left of our sodas to swallow the pills. For many of us, this is our first time using ecstasy. A few others have tried it before. None of the veterans, however, have ever used it at the place where we are headed tonight - the place on the other side of the school where fags learn how to design and paint - the place that sits unassumingly on the corner of west 27th street and 12th avenue most of the time. As we leave the Pizzeria, we head towards FIT and take 28th street over to the next avenue, where we are blocked by housing projects. “Let’s hang a right and take 27th straight across. I’m pretty sure it goes through.” says Mario. “Whatever you say, Captain.” Replies Billy in a wise manner. As we walk through the streets of Chelsea, we keep our hands in our pockets and our heads down. It’s January 9th and colder than shit in the city as the wind whips around the buildings. As soon as we round the corner onto 27th street and get about a block down, it seems as if we have stepped into another world. The time is 11:00pm on a Saturday night and the streets are swarming with people. “X, K, coke.” Whispers a lone black man who is leaning against a building. “E…I got the E.” States another in a hushed voice. We ignore them and keep moving. Ahead I notice a line of people leading to a door with a large awning above it that reads TWILO in bold, white letters. “See that? That’s Twilo. It’s a fag club.” Proclaims Billy. “Anyone wanna stop in?” I say joking (of course). “Haha. Nah, We’re goin right up there, on the corner of the next block.” States Donnie. We all look ahead at a huge building with loading platforms covered by blue-painted gates. People are lined up outside, heading towards 12th avenue. There are no signs of any sort. It is just a plain building with people hanging all around it. As we approach the warehouse, the sound of bass begins to faintly ring through the cold air. No one is talking as we move forward with the thump-thump-thump getting more powerful all the way. Finally we hit the corner and the immensity of the place becomes apparent. “This place runs almost the entire city block, three floors high.” Says Billy. “Damn.” I think. “This place is fuckin huuuuuuge.” States Jason, speaking for all of us. We pass several groups of people sitting on the protruding edges of the building, along with an endless line of individuals asking us to buy their product. “X, K, X, X, X, E, E, E, K, coke.” We hear as we pass them, focused on the line in front of us. We get on the end of the line, which is moving pretty quickly. We step up to a Spanish-looking guy, who stands about 6’6” tall, and hand him our i.d.’s. Although some of us are using fake licenses, all of us are allowed entrance. We step inside and onto another line. This time there are two lines, actually; one for guys and one for girls. We are about to be searched. As I step in front of the bouncer who is about to violate me, he asks me to remove all items from my pockets and un-zip my jacket. I kindly do so. He frisks me down thoroughly, checking my socks, flipping through my wallet, and grabbing my crotch. It is apparent now that this really is another world. It is a place that has earned its reputation as one of the wildest clubs in the world; a place where anything goes; a place where neither time nor rules exist. I was about to enter…. …The Tunnel. As I step pass the bouncer, there is yet another line to pay the admission fee. I wait my turn and hand over $25 in return for a ticket. I give my ticket to the collector and step into a barren room. There are some people hanging around, talking and creating a strange echo. As I move forward I notice a stack of televisions ten feet high and five feet wide. The images on the screen are emanating random visions in slow motion, giving the impression that things have already kicked in. A smile appears on my face as I approach the coat check line. We’re finally in. We check our coats and pay a $3 fee. Funny how my pockets are feeling pretty light these days. Directly behind the coat check is a large entranceway with a huge bar in direct view. The sound of bass is powerful as it reverberates throughout my chest. “If you really like to rock the funky beats, rock the rock the funky beats, rock the rock the funky beats…” I can hear pounding on the deafening sound system. We step through the entranceway and peer down the main dance floor. It seems as long as a football field. The lights are flashing, making it seem bright as day one second, then pitch black the next. The floor is relatively empty, since it is only 11:30 pm. “Yo, lets go back through there. I wanna show you the ‘fuzzy room’” Yells Billy over the pulsating techno music. We walk back through the coat check area and down a large hallway. Every 20 feet or so is an alcove with a display of some sort. Mannequins, abstract paintings, mini disco balls and other odd features present themselves behind glass casings. We stroll past another bar. This one sells only juice and energy drinks and is manned by a bodybuilder-looking guy wearing a Halloween mask. Right past the bar is a velvet rope. No one is there, so we move past it and into another room complete with a small dance floor and a DJ spinning energetic trance music. People are moving to the beat as we look ahead and move past them around a corner into a narrow hallway. The hallway accesses two rooms, one straight ahead and one off to the left. As I peer into the room straight ahead, I notice a huge chandelier on the ceiling. The room is lined with couches and a few people hanging around. There are steps on the side leading up to a balcony where a DJ is spinning hard, Chicago house style music. I look back and notice my friends entering the other room. I catch up to them and walk into the space, which is lighted by pink, green, blue, and purple neon lights. There is a water fountain in the center, and all of the walls are covered with fuzzy material of all colors. There is bar on the far left and a DJ is playing 80’s music. We sit down and begin to bullshit for a few seconds before a tall man with no shirt approaches us. “Sorry guys, private party in here tonight.” He says in a girlish voice. “Alright, lets go.” States Billy. “This is the fag room anyway.” “Fuckin fags.” Says Donnie. We walk back through the hallway towards the coat check area. I notice a large staircase in front of me. “Yo, whats down there?” Asks Mario. “That’s the hip-hop room.” Answers Billy. “Let’s check it out.’ We then walk down the staircase, which is flanked by shelves standing 15 feet high and filled with books. Accordingly, they call this room the “library.” Rap music fills the area, which includes a bar, small sets of tables and chairs, large fans, and several dance floors. “Ain’t nothing but a G-thang baaaaby, all these locked-out niggas goin craaaazy…” I hear as the DJ blares the old Snoop Dog track. We all buy a bottle of water for $4 and sit at one of the tables. As the hip-hop beats continue to pump throughout the room, I begin to like Rap more and more. Before I know it, I am standing up, swaying to the sounds. I didn’t feel like sitting anymore and was experiencing a sudden burst of energy. By this time, my friends were all bopping along, singing the lyrics “It’s the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth…movin on your left…” We all belt out as I continue to dance. My body is beginning to feel a slight tingle. The energy is growing and my movements become more and more powerful and enthusiastic. “This is it.” I think to myself. Everyone is now pumped up and dancing around. Finally we decide to go up to the main dance floor. We walk up the steps, and my legs are feeling bouncy and light. I bound up the steps with a huge smile on my face, ready to take on The Tunnel at full strength. My mind is racing and I know that this is only the beginning. It’s only going to get better from here. We all walk past the main bar and down two steps onto the floor. The room is much more packed and the lights are going crazy. Strobes are kicking left and right while alternate flashes of red, blue, and orange lights fill the wide-open space. I find myself having to stop every few seconds, as the dance floor becomes pitch black. Finally we settle on a spot in the middle of the floor towards the left side. Within seconds I find myself tangled with a girl. Whether or not she was attractive, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t even matter. I was having the time of my life. I move with her at the pace of the hammering sounds. She is grinding her ass into my crotch forcefully and I am imagining what it would be like to fuck her right on the floor. She turns around and begins rubbing her crotch against mine to beat of the DJ’s track. “In the beginning, there was house music…then God said, ‘let this house be…progressive…” I hear emanating form the speakers that stand over 10 feet high. Before I realize what is happening, the girl that I am with slides her tongue into my mouth. We begin kissing while pumping our hips against each other. “SM Traxx is in the house, in the house, in the house…” Pumps out of the speakers. The song breaks into an anthem and the floor erupts with energy. The lights are flashing faster than before and I can hear people blowing whistles all around me. I take my face away from my little dance buddy and look around. Everyone is pumping their fists into the air. Everyone is smiling. The entire floor is moving to the beat together. Some people are good looking, some are not. Some are good dancers, while others are far from it. Some are dressed in lavish outfits, yet others in sneakers, jeans, and T-shirts. At this place, at this time, it didn’t matter how you danced or what you looked like. We were all in it together. “The DJ’s make ya move, SM Traxx got the groove…” The song continues I look back at the girl that I am dancing with and Billy is one the other side of her. We flash a smile at each other and I decide to let him take over so he can get a piece of the action. I head toward Mario. He looks at me, pointing towards the far staircase leading upstairs. My guess is that he has to use the bathroom. We head through the crowd, mesmerized by the music and disoriented by the lights. Anybody that I come in contact with gives me a hug and a pat on the back. I do the same. When the lights flash, I get a glimpse of faces glowing from sweat and accentuated with smiles. Upon eye contact with individuals we exchange nods of acknowledgment. The feeling is getting stronger and stronger and I begin to sense that things are just starting to heat up. Mario and I make our way up the steps and I notice a room off to the right with a DJ playing hard trance music. There are couches and tables with chairs lining the space. Everyone is dancing, as usual. We then enter a narrow hallway tinted with blue lights. Once at the other end, we step into the bathroom. It is covered with baby-blue tiles and has a small bar in the center. There are sinks on the far ends of both sides. Around each corner are rows of urinals and stalls. It isn’t long before I notice that the bathroom is unisex. There are guys and girls leaning on the sinks, talking at the bar, and dancing to the music, which is being played from the main floor and pumped through speakers on the walls. On the far left is an alcove with benches. I notice a girl with her skirt around her waist riding some lucky guy. “Wish that was me.” I say to Mario. “Haha. Yea, me too. Yo, stand in front of the stall for me, I gotta take a shit.” He replies. Mario goes into the stall to do his business and I hang right in front, determined not to let anyone take a peek, especially the girls. I can’t help but to move to the music and I begin to get hot. Most guys have their shirts off, and I decide that they have the right idea. I take off my white Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt and tuck it into the front of my pants without skipping a beat. People are passing me left and right. The guys all give me pound or a pat on the shoulder with a smile. The girls give me a quick rub down my chest or a swipe along my lower abs. “A little lower, sweetheart.” I think to myself with a grin. Finally Mario finishes dropping his deuce and we make for the main floor again. Before we get there, the rest of the guys, Mark, Billy, Jason, and Donnie, run into us at the end of the hallway. We all give each other big pounds and hugs and brag about who got the most. “Damn Jimmy, that girl on the main floor was busted. Hahaha.” States Billy. “You got with her too, hotshot.” I reply. “Hell Yeaaaaa. I had my hands down her pants and everything.” He proudly proclaims. We give each other a slam on the back and change directions, heading towards the room on the opposite end of the bathroom. I can hear bass pounding inside, but it is faster and stronger than any of the other rooms. “I think that’s the hardcore room” Donnie says. “Lets go in there for a little while until the place heats up downstairs. Then we can go back to the main floor and really start partying.” We go into the room, which is blaring hard, fast paced techno. There are booths and couches around the edges and a dance floor in the middle. A huge mosh pit has formed, and the energy is incredible. Arms, legs, and bodies are flying everywhere in a flurry of violent motion. “Lets hit that up!” I yell over the sound. “You got it, brother.” Replies Donnie. Donnie, Billy, and myself head towards the pit while the others head to the tables to take a break and sip on their $4 water. I can’t even imagine taking a break. My energy is still rising and my body feels tingly all over. My hands want to reach out and touch everything I see, especially all of the chicks strutting around half-naked. As we approach the pit, I feel an adrenaline rush surge through my body. The feeling is getting more intense as I begin to clench my teeth and my fists. The feeling is incredible and I want it to get stronger. I know that I haven’t even peaked yet, and I am anticipating the time when I do. For now, though, I am enjoying the moment. The rush is getting stronger every minute. Every beat brings its own pulse of energy and euphoria. We get to the pit and Donnie and Billy immediately jump in, throwing their fists everywhere. I hop in right after, slamming into them while being tossed by the other participants. Everyone is smiling and having the time of their lives. High-fives are going around along with pounds and slams on the back. We continue to toss each other around for a little while longer when Jason grabs me by putting his arm around my chest. “Lets hit the main floor and get this shit goin!” He yells with a huge grin on his face. “Yea, this place is really startin to set the fuck off now!” Adds Mark. We all slam each other on the back and throw our arms around one another. I am really starting to feel intense now. My jaw is going crazy and I chug my water incessantly. My entire body feels like it wants to dance, run, move, anything to make it feel even better. I feel surges of absolute euphoria running through my body and I feel connected to everyone in the club. We make it through the blue tinted hallway and down the steps. As we approach the main bar, I realize how packed it has gotten. People are dancing everywhere: on couches, on tables, and there is even a girl in nothing more than a G-string, gyrating on the bar as guys shove dollar bills in her underwear. The feeling has really hit me now, and I am peaking hard. I can see the main floor, which is packed now, going absolutely crazy. “Sometimes I feel I’ve got to…run away, I’ve got to…get away…” I hear as the techno version of ‘Tainted Love’ pounds through the system. Jason hops up in one of the two cages stationed in the center of the dance floor. There are two girls in there with him, and he looks at me, motioning for me to hop in. There are people standing all around it, grabbing the bars and forcing it back and forth on its edges. All of the guys are reaching in and grabbing the girls inside with Jason. I grab the bars on either side of the entrance and jump inside. Jason and I put our hands on the top and grind with the girls. We are both shirtless and sweat covers our bodies. The girls hang around for a few seconds before deciding that they have had enough. They hop out, leaving Jason and myself. We clench the bars on top tightly and help the people around the outside tip it violently from one edge to the other. After a few minutes of this we decide to hop out and hit one of the chill-out areas to meet some new people. We round up the fellas and head towards the right side of the dance floor, to the entrance that leads to the large hallway on the side of the club. We end up in an area with a few couches and a handicap ramp with a railing. It’s the Staten Island room. Several people are already occupying both the couches and the railing. We stroll over and are immediately welcomed. The people on the couch slide together to make room for some of us to sit, as do the rail-sitters. I grab a spot on the couch in between a guy and a girl. They guy introduces himself as Joe, from Queens and the girl mentions that her name is Julie and that she is from Long Island. “You buggin?” They both ask. “Hell yea. First time.” I reply as I point to my chest. “Alright!” Says Joe. “Where you from?” Julie asks? “Staten Island.” I answer. As I put my head back against the couch, I look at the ceiling. It seems weird and disoriented. It is as if it is pulsating to the beat of the music with waves flowing throughout it, from left to right. I look around at the people, and they are moving in slow motion. They are all talking, but I can’t match any of the voices to any particular person. My body feels as if it is floating and I feel weightless. Then, the room begins to spin slowly. Nausea sets in. “Shit. I don’t feel so hot. I’m getting a little nauseas.” I turn and say to Joe. “Nah, don’t worry. Just go with it. It’ll pass.” Answers Joe in a concerned tone. “Just take it like a surfer takes a wave. If he goes against it, it crushes him. But if he flows with it, he can ride it all the way back to the beach.” I take Joe’s advice and breathe deeply. I relax my mind, reminding myself of just how great this experience is. Before long, I feel fine, even better than before. “Hey, you want a massage?” Asks Julie. “It will feel reallllly good, I promise.” “Sure.” I reply. She spreads her legs and I sit on the floor in between them. I rest my head in her crotch as she begins to rub my shoulders. Her movements become stronger and I feel as if my entire body is becoming more relaxed, pushing me further into euphoria. She creeps her hands down to the small of my back and uses her thumbs to knead my muscles. I feel like moaning in ecstasy. Her hands move around to my chest as she rubs my entire upper body. “How’s that feel?” She asks. “Oh my God.” I reply. She then gives me a pat on my upper back, signaling the end of the session. I get up and give her a kiss as a thank-you. “Anytime, sweetie.” She states. Mario comes up to me and throws my T-shirt on my lap. “This belong to you, lover-boy?” He asks. “Yup.” I say. I put my shirt on and stand up. I decide that I’m ready to explore the vast space that is before me. I feel like a kid on Christmas, with so many presents to open that I don’t know where to start. I make my way down the hall and plop myself between two girls chatting on one of the couches. “What’s up?” I ask. “Not much.” They reply. “How you feelin?” “Pretty good.” I state with a grin. “You buggin?” Asks one of the girls. “Yea, you?” “Of course. Hey, wanna give me a massage?” “Absolutely.” The girl sits in between my legs and I begin to rub her back with my thumbs. She is clenching her water bottle tightly and grinding her teeth. She begins to grab my legs, making this a 2-for-1 deal. Her head is swaying back and forth and she is obviously getting turned on. I move my hands to her upper chest, pushing my hands gently into her breasts. She starts to moan faintly and grabs my legs with more strength. I move my hands around the outside of her chest and she begins to squirm even more. Her friend tells me that she is going to use the bathroom and asks me to keep an eye on her friend. No problem… After a few seconds, the girl stands up and straddles me as I sit on the couch. She leans down and begins to kiss me. I return the favor and continue moving my hands along her torso. I feel her hand creep towards my upper thigh and she begins to rub my crotch. Not a problem with me. I quickly do the same for her, except I put my hand inside her jeans. I can feel that she is wet through her panties as I move my fingers up and down. A few minutes of this pass before her friend returns and asks the girl to help her find the rest of the group. As quickly as it started, it ends as she gets up and takes her friend’s hand, flashing a smile as she leaves. I decide to move about the club, hitting the bathroom, the hardcore room, the hip-hop room and any other space I can find. I talk with anyone whom I encounter. Guy or girl, ugly or pretty, it didn’t matter. It was just too much fun. From time to time I run into some of the fellas, who are all off on their own now as well. Sometimes they are by themselves, sometimes with a girl, sometimes with another group of guys. Everywhere I go is packed to the brim: the hallways, the staircases, the entranceways. I make my way back to the main floor. The crowd near the main bar is so large that it takes me a good five minutes to make it past. On the dance floor, the music has momentarily stopped. The lights have gone black. The crowd is yelling. “10, 10, 10…9, 9, 9…8, 8, 8…” The countdown begins… Everyone throws their hands in the air, pumping their fists to the count. “7, 7, 7…6, 6, 6…5, 5, 5…4, 4, 4…” The countdown continues… The energy is continuing to build. I can feel the intensity of the track fill me up as I allow myself to be consumed by the moment. It seems as if the entire club is on the floor. I am standing shoulder to shoulder with the crowd and throwing my hand in the air as the numbers get smaller. “3, 3, 3…2, 2, 2…1, 1, 1…” The countdown ends… It is as if the entire crowd knows what is coming next. Glow sticks fly into the air, along with empty water bottles. The crowd screams. Whistles ring for a split second as the speakers blare… …”ECSTASY…” The track erupts into a dark, trancy anthem. The beat kicks in. The song consumes everyone on the dance floor. Girls gyrate their hips forcefully. Guys jump straight up and down, pumping their fists toward the DJ booth overlooking the floor. I notice that several people have climbed atop the cages, on the outside. The crowd continues to toss the cage from left to right, causing the climbers to hang on with one hand as they thrust the other one towards the crowd, feeding off of its energy. Several girls have stepped onto the platforms that flank both sides of the floor, standing four feet high. They move powerfully and pull their shirts up, smiling and sticking their tongues out at the audience in an attempt to garner even more attention. I gladly give them some. After that powerful experience on the dance floor, I head back towards the main bar to find my boys and bring them out there. As soon as I step off of the floor and up the steps, I feel some of the bounciness and tingly-feeling escape me. My vision becomes a little clearer and I do not seem as disoriented as I was for the past…jeez, how long has it been? I glance down at my chrome Vitesse watch, but the numbers are blurry and the hands are indecipherable. I rub my eyes, but still can’t make out the time. I approach the bartender and ask what time it is “20 minutes to 6.” He answers. “Holy shit.” I think. “Has it been that long?” I look over toward the coat check area and notice the rest of the guys already on line to get their jackets. “Yo, what the fuck?” I yell. “Let’s go man, it’s almost six in the morning.” States Donnie. I reluctantly push through the line and hand over my ticket. “Initials?” Asks the attendant. “J.B.” I answer. She hands me my yellow and blue Nautica jacket and I slip inside of it. It takes a few minutes for everyone to gather their stuff and then we head towards the exit. Billy opens the door and light floods the room. We all look down to avoid overloading our pupils. The sun is just beginning to rise and it is still colder than shit outside. We step up to one of the many cabs parked in front of the club. Since there is six of us, we split into two groups. I hop in a cab with Mark and Billy. My mind is still racing, trying to sort out all the events of the previous night. I am already getting excited about returning. It had been more than I ever could imagine and no words can ever describe it. I let myself sink into the leather seat of the taxi. “South Ferry.” I say to the driver. “You got it, boss.” He replies. “You guys have a good time last night at the Tunnel? I heard that place is crazy!” Under a spell of exhaustion and left-over euphoria, I just close my eyes and rest my head back. I don’t even bother trying to answer the guy… …He just wouldn’t get it anyway.

club - the Wave on SI (one of the original Frankie Bones rave sites in the US) first real club - Tunnel first rave - Whistle 2

I agree Joe. WH is pretty much the only club I go to now, and I have ALWAYS had a good time there. There are no "I'm so pretentious because I think I know so much about music" attitudes... Plus it is free on fri b4 12 and the girls are the most approachable in the city. john

Factory Baby!!!

Boston University ...and if anyone is wondering... YES - Boston sucks!!!