TUSCL

It finally happened, after three decades of clubbing in the city where I live. A dancer introduced herself, sat down next to me, and asked (as a conversation starter) what my plans were for the weekend. We didn't recognize each other immediately, but eventually from chatting about my weekend plans it became clear that we knew some…

In the winter of 1993, Dave Jackson (not my real name) was thirty-two, newly divorced, and freshly unemployed, sitting in the half-empty parking lot of the Pink Pony on Buford Highway with divorce papers still warm in the glovebox. The club’s neon bled pink across the windshield while he nursed a vodka he couldn’t taste. A dancer named Cinnamon…

This is a long read. I get it, but if you don't want to read it, ask for a refund. Part One . The original plan was to have a threesome with a girl we met at Amnesia named Palace. ATF1 and I were in that club twice, and ATF1 got along with Palace extremely well. (Palace is about 5-foot, with…

I can’t post this as a club review because the club doesn’t have a page in this site. (32.7742941, -83.6602024) The club is a somewhat large standalone building. One side of the parking lot had massive potholes. The club was not not notably dirty or clean, just older / sort of dingy. Most of the patrons were black. I saw…

It began, as all true American horror stories do, with a text that came in during the witching hour: “She took the dog.” That was it. No punctuation. No context. Just those four words, carved into my phone like a ransom note from Hell. My old friend Danny—journalist, bourbon enthusiast, and optimist by mental defect—had finally joined the ranks of the…

I'll admit right up from that this write-up has some characteristics of a review, but since it doesn't dwell on any single establishment I'm offering it up as an article. Now, I've never thought or even heard of Geneva, Switzerland, as a mongering destination. I still don't think of it that way, but I've found that sexual pleasure can be…