I Went to a Nightclub for the First Time Ever
This past weekend, I went on an organized club crawl of Hollywood, California. I’d never been to “the club” before. Or any club, actually. Something you probably gathered from the fact that I just referred to “the club” as “the club.”
Hollywood is—suspend your disbelief—lookist. Nowhere is this sad, solemn truth more evident than in “the club.”
Harris, the amiable young man who runs the club crawl I went on, explained to me, “If you’re a pretty girl in Hollywood, people just give you stuff. This is a way for, if you go with your friends and maybe all of them aren’t the hottest, you can still have a good time.” The “this” he’s referring to is the Hollywood Club Crawl, of which he’s a co-owner and organizer.
For a nominal fee, the Crawl offers plebes like you and I a “legendary night out in Hollywood,” providing unfettered access to four different clubs without the indignity of additional cover charges, waiting in line, or being judged for one’s appearance (or lack thereof). As Harris spoke, I looked around. No one in my periphery was “the hottest,” but they sure as shit weren’t uggos. I quickly realized, however, than in the context of where we were headed (a “fashion” themed nightclub one block away from Hollywood Boulevard), they may as well all be the Elephant Man.
Want to get into “the club” without the assistance of a man like Harris? Prepare yourself for a thoroughly debasing experience. Booking a reservation for a Hollywood club online, generally, entails sending them a link to your Facebook profile. If you’re “hot,” you’re on the list. If you’re “not,” you’re, uh, not.