I’ve got mad props for the people who were at Das Bunker the other night. Well, some of the people. There were many at the industrial disco who displayed their good humor, keen fashion sense, and/ or grooved to the stompy, electronic sounds with German, Cookie Monster vocals and, in general, lifted my spirits. Mad respect to:
- that bald dude in heavy piercings, a corset, and a pleated mini-skirt
- the brick-house bartender who poured my very first Adios Motherfucker
- all the girls on poles. Even though there are no official go-go dancers, patrons routinely give it everything they’ve got — and that’s a lot.
- that guy dressed as a nazgul from Lord of the Rings. He even got on the pole at one point. I as a paladin of the order of the geeks, I was duty-bound to go tuck a dollar into his shoe.
- the couple in heavy goggles, wigs, and glowing red wristbands who danced like mirror images of each other in Das Noise Room.
- Frank, the big Belgian, with hugs and hellos for us all
- the raver who danced better than anyone out there, and didn’t stop all night.
- E-, who was awesome as ever
- anybody who had the guts to show up alone.
Those who earn a suitably Teutonic frown include.
- the dolts in Das Noise Room who just sat and looked at their phones, even though they were there with friends and hand great lights and music all around
- the newbie who poured me the very worst vodka tonic I have ever had. Did he use gin instead? The mix was so bad, I couldn’t even tell.
- clumsy, drunk people
- the nimrods who couldn’t think of anything more original to wear than cheap underwear. Ladies — your Fredericks sale-bin specials are taking down the Blade-Runner vibe of this place. If you’re low on cash, shred a t-shirt, dye your thrift-store purchases black, or hit up Supply Sergeant with convenient locations in Hollywood, Burbank, and Santa Monica.
Featured image by Rob Griffoen, model Psychara