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After Hours

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Miscellany

Published: 03 March 2016

Hits: 2802

• Drugs,
• Addicts,
• party,
• Crackhouse,
• Cocaine,
• Coke,
• After-Hours,

Saturday evening, we're done work early, the Nephew suggests Rio, Latin bar in downtown Calgary. We meet there - the clientele, a mixture of young and old, ages anywhere between 18 and 65...the ladies outfits, well, elegant to whorehouse madame. The men, if you saw "The Big Lebowski", imagine a hundred Jesus Quintana's suggestively licking their bowling balls, a dozen of "The Most Interesting Men in the World" from Dos Equis, and a half dozen gangsta's and you're there.

It's not that interesting, not our scene, the Nephew goes home to play his PS4, his old roomate drops by for a drink, but this isn't where we wanna be...

***

From here to the gay bar, but this has been old and boring for a while. I'm being followed around by the 70 year old hipster librarian, we've chatted in the past, clearly he's trying to pick me up and I try and keep it on the friendly-not-interested page, tonight he's upped his game, wearing an old-school 70's black leather vest that makes him look like a geriatric BDSM queen, and dragging in tow a late 30's, surprisingly not unattractive girl...I'm not figuring it out, is he trying to set me up with his granddaughter? Every time I turn around they're there, catching my eye...weird.

***

A***** wants to go grab some food. I'm not interested, not tonight, but driving him home I follow a lead to a rumored new after-hours club in Calgary.

We find it, 2nd floor, music booming out the door, a security guard downstairs, pass, upstairs, another 2 guards, $20 cover, 2 wristbands, and we're in. 

It's projecting the feel of a rave, obviously brand new, good techno/electronica house music, like what you'd get at the hi-fi, it's not sooo busy yet and so we walk around...

A***** is amazed, he's been pestering me about an after hours club since we started hanging out, I didn't know of any, he's thinking this is a secret I've been keeping from him, that I've known about it and didn't share, I explain, no, it's brand new...heard about it from C*****, the party facilitator at the crack-house, he remembers...

...the club, brand new, white walls that disappear into the fog, laser machines trace screensavers onto the fog, yellow lasers, expensive...the laminate floors are still pale with the dust from the drywall,  you can still smell the paint, laid out in a circle around the inner stairwell, in the back, semi-discreet areas with leather sofa's curtained off from the rest of the club ... "Is it a sex-club...?" he asks hopefully, I hate to disappoint, "Probably not...", he really should learn to use Google...

The bar, one bar, selling soft drinks, bottled water, candy bars, lollipops and chewing gum. Prices, high, but what you'd expect, it's all they're selling, still, the average party goer couldn't be expected to spend more than $20 an evening on these treats...

...walking round the circle we come to the front of the stage, perhaps 60 people gathered, more are always coming in, a small Chinese man with a leather messenger bag is circling the club, he palms something to another guy, I know this gesture, the quick handshake...

...another, less well dressed, Caucasian in a hoody, sniffles, he catches your eye meaningfully, his nose twitches, he nods, you look away, and he continues to circle the club, making significant eye contact and twitching his nose with everyone he can, less a twitch than a nervous tic, clearly he's using a little too much of his own product...

We sit on a leather sofa, take off our jackets, watch the dancing. To the left are about a dozen Chinese or Asian people, aged mid 40's to late 60's, none of them apparently high, in front of us another sofa, 4 beautiful Asian woman perhaps early 30's in fashionable dresses, bared shoulders exposing colorful tattoos, watching them, none are high...

We're at a loss...can't read this room, more party goers arrive, we sit and discuss, quietly, what we think is going on,...

"Are they prostitutes?" he asks me hopefully. I don't know, but I recommend he doesn't ask...a drunk Alberta raver, musclebound and in toque, his dancing, personal space, takes up half the dance floor, he's like a baboon, arms outstretched, middle finger extended towards anyone, everyone, he thinks he's being funny, staggers off the floor, tries to talk to the Asian girls, an elderly Chinese man comes and shoos him away...

The Asians, the core dozen, they're inscrutable, impermeable, they talk to no one but each other, they're dancing, a bit, some are just watching, but the age of them, the way their dressed, they look more like a posse of foreign investors come to check on their property...

We're being watched. One walks over, perhaps 65 years old, stands in front of me, watches me, looks me up and down, clearly I'm not even slightly high or drunk and he's wondering what I'm doing here, he's confrontational in his fashion, but I know better, he's got friends...

They're thinking I'm an undercover cop...or, maybe, just making sure I'm not competing with their distributors...

More people arriving, always, errant homeless people with their wristbands, people so sketchy they wouldn't get served in a Tim Horton's, a group of 4 Russians with shaved heads, 3 in bad Adidas tracksuits, one in an expensive double breasted suit, they keep to themselves. A group of 4 East Indians, sitting together on another bench, they're trying to figure it out as well, ... it's a world within a world, all the cokeheads and addicts gathering to party the night away,..

Despite the lights, the fog, the great music, this is clearly not a rave. A rave doesn't need 6 big security guards, and a rave doesn't have such a cross-section of people...

Me and A*****, we're at a loss, this is something completely new, we're doing the math, the cover, the bar, they don't begin to cover the costs of the club...

Numbered Company, a share on the distributed profits? Commission? Employees? It's an entirely new thing to me...

There are a few drunk after-hours people, a few high on MDMA, but the rest of the party, well, it's a coke party for sure, the distributors are obvious, but I'm wondering as to how long this business model can run...A*****'s thinking it will be closed in a week or two, I'm not so sure...

But you can feel it, there's no love here at all, it's a dangerous place, and I'm pretty certain the white painted walls and pale laminate floors will soon be showing off some more vivid colors. 

Outside, 4:00 AM when we leave and the party's just getting started..., A police van, officer lightly quizzing the doorman, he knows, you can tell, he's laughing out loud but playing along, it's incredible.