Club Allure ... Keeping You Safe From Wild Elephants

To create that Club Allure ambiance on your computer, turn volume to really high, then press PLAY.

Meat Market:  "A place where guys go to meet the ladies, and ladies show up to tease the guys. Pairing is done solely on the basis of physical attraction. The selection of quality meat in the butcher shop is a similar process." 
-- Urban Dictionary

Friday's intended dancing destination, Club Allure, was the topic of discussion.

"It's a very young crowd (barely 21)."
"It's not that bad."
"I don't care as long as the music's good."

So privately, I did my own research on Club Allure on City Weekly's web site.

"Dance club, meat market."

Some of the reviews were ... well ... interesting.  If you have time, read the one by Mooseknuckles.

I decided not to expose what could be my relative naivete (it's not like I go clubbing every week) but did email one of the members of the group.

"It's a meat market."
"Oh which club is not a meat market? Gotta try new things in life."
"Actually some of the other ones we've been to on the list are not shown as meat markets ... but trying to be expansive."

After much deliberation, the plan remained intact. Club Allure was a go.

I remember Club Allure as Sandy Station where we held the class party for my line dancing course a decade ago.  I didn't remember there being a hotel right next door.  A Comfort Inn.  Sort of smacks of meat market, but if this is a meat market, where's the beef? I thought, as I surveyed the lack of cars in the parking lot.  I went in, showed ID, and found a few members of the group who were already enjoying beer and pizza.  We were the only ones there except bartenders and kitchen staff.

For the first hour or so after we arrived, the dance floor was bare.

 Side venture to Palladium in Acapulco.  At some point in this post, and it might as well be now, I must explain that my world standard for clubbing is Palladium, perhaps you've heard of it.  Palladium is the place to disco while seeing the Acapulco Bay through 160 foot wide glass windows.

High atop a mountain cliff, Palladium is rocking from 11:30 pm til ??

While at a family reunion, me, my brother, sister-in-law, cousins and spouses "smuggled" my then-15 year old daughter and my cousin's then-15 year old son into Palladium (the minimum age for entry was 16) at 11:30 pm at night, starting time for the Latin disco scene.  Palladium is a standout among discos ... the lights, the (very loud) pulsating music, the crowds, the stage show, being on a cliff overlooking the twinkling lights of Acapulco Bay.  Completely enthralling.

Back to Club Allure. The electronic, neon technicolor dream dance floor captured my attention.  Perhaps I'm too easily entertained but I was mesmerized by the changing designs and such beautiful colors, all in sync to the music.  Music videos played on massive television screens.

The dance floor was a continuously changing technicolor design element of Club Allure.

Side Rant: I'm not a music video junkie, but is this really what we (collectively, as a society) are buying? Somebody sitting by me called out the videos as a "race to the bottom."  At times, the images on the screen were beyond subtle sensuality.  I feel like the character Public Opinion in the opera "Orpheus and the Underworld" for saying this, but I wanted to blow my whistle a few times. I encourage parents of younger music video users to do some investigative work before such videos are showing up in your living room or on your home computer. 

Slow dance on red and black can't be beat.

One of our contacts, Kenny, was a new member of our group and he was the kitchen manager/owner of Back East, a separately owned and operated kitchen at Club Allure.  Kenny got off on the right foot with me, given we're both from the Windy City.  He told us there were usually 500 or so people in the house around 11 pm on the weekends.  By this time, it was 9 and the place was still fairly empty.  Kenny gave me a tour ... I saw the room where the band would play and the well appointed patio. Never mind it was overlooking a huge dirt field.  It had plenty of seating, fire places, a bar, and sand pit for a miniature game of beach volleyball.  And several loudspeakers, so everyone could hear the same music playing in the disco.

At times, the floor took on a pulsating, Oz-like appearance.

We heard that Back East's kitchen had developed special BBQ sauces for chicken wings that would make grown men cry.  Would we (the women in the group) like to try some?  We graciously accepted, not knowing there was a contract normally required to eat them.  No joke.

You may be asked to execute a legal document before eating chicken wings at Club Allure. Yes, really.

The Bhut Jolokia pepper, for those who don't know.  The BBQ sauce is made from the Bhut Jolokia pepper, the world's hottest pepper, imported from India.  Bhut Jolokia peppers, also called Ghost Peppers, are rubbed on fences in northeastern India to keep wild elephants at bay.  These same peppers are being developed by India's defense department in hand grenades and pepper sprays.  Not your ordinary jalepeno.

Like so many things in life, Bhut Jolokia peppers are beautiful but wicked.

Yes, it was volcano hot. The kitchen manager brought four chicken wings, a moist folded towel, and a handful of packaged wet wipes.  "Touch your finger to the sauce on the chicken ..." our host advised.  I, who have burned out many a guest's palate by serving extra spicy Mexican and Thai food, dipped a finger and touched it to my tongue.  As steam emerged from my ears, I encouraged others to try, not wanting to be the only guinea pig in the group.

Weapons on the vine.

Braving the wings.  I prepped by pulling my wet wipe out of the package first, which turned out to be a brilliant idea.  One chicken wing later, my lips and my mouth were burning.  Ice cream, beer, and water provided moderate relief, but I felt the sizzling hot lips tingle all night long.  Later, I saw the wall of achievement, where the person who'd eaten 20 Bobbleheads (wings) in 20 minutes was photographed in his victorious glory. Owwwwwwww that would hurt. But hot as they were, the wings were delish and were gobbled up soon.

Ingredients for a devilishly hot BBQ sauce.

 By 10 or so, our group was bigger, the crowds thickened, and the dancing began.  The pulsating sounds of Lady Gaga, Rhianna, The Jackson Five, and other disco tunes surrounded us.  We danced and danced.  I noticed that there was a couch over by where the DJ's were seated, but I did not venture over to see who was "using" it.  The crowd grew and undulated to the beat of "Brick House," "Wild Thang,", and "Kiss" among a never-ending litany of disco and even Motown tunes. 

Dance baby dance!

You don’t have to be rich
To be my girl
You don’t have to be cool
To rule my world
Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your kiss.

Dancing in circles without spinning takes perfectly executed logistics and a lighted floor.

It was as if Prince was right there in the room.  "The music's louder," somebody noted.  Ummm yes, it was, and probably cranked up a few decibels after each song.  The scar tissue I developed from several bursted ear drums as a child dislodged.  Okay, an exaggeration.  Maybe.  Let's just say, like at Palladium and other discos, the music at Club Allure was loud enough to wake the dead.

By 11 or so, the crowd was in full tilt.

Respite on the patio.  To give my ears a break, I made way outside where an industrious, man-snagging member of our group was engaging all the men on the patio in conversation, laughter, and lap dancing.  Yes, I can see why there's such disappointment if she declines to attend these dancing events as she's unbelievably funny, more like hilarious.

The patio party was just getting started.

Pole dancing anybody?  Once back inside, I convinced a couple of ladies to climb into the dancing cage for some pole dancing.  Well, and I had to try.  It's always easier to learn new skills without an audience, and fortunately there wasn't one.  The rest of the gang was on the dance floor or patio, not watching me slither around the pole. My pole dancing photo turned out great and I'm having prints made for Christmas cards, so don't want to spoil the surprise by posting early. ;o

The cage without follies.

So ... was it a meat market?  On the basis of the chicken wings? yes, definitely, the hottest meat in town.  And about the pick up aspects of the joint, my sources say night club hookups start in earnest around 1 am when the bar closes, so I missed the action.  In fact, I missed any action that suggested Club Allure was anything more raucous than a wild party scene.  I said my goodbyes around midnight, delighted my empty gas tank with a couple gallons of gas, then headed home.  I rubbed my eyes with my pepper-stained hands in the shower so my eyeballs stung beyond belief.  Still, I rested especially well, knowing that wild elephants would be kept away from me, given my recent ingestion of the Bhut Jolokia pepper.

The morning after.  Besides all the other obvious comparisons that might be made between my beloved Palladium and Club Allure, I acknowledge that it's a lot easier to recover from a night at the discotheque while lounging poolside with the pool boy bringing Papas Fritas and Pina Coladas.  What the heck was I doing at my Bikram yoga class at 8 am trying to hold my leg parallel to the ground while standing on the other one? I don't know.  I fell out of several balancing postures ... I'm not sure if that was because my ears were still ringing or because I was thinking about fun times at Club Allure. {LOL}