Issue #06/61, March 25 - April 7, 1999  

Good news. For two straight weeks, I haven't even seen the couch. Amy and I have been spending our evenings in spooning-heaven in the comfort of our Russian-made double bed. She brought her foam egg-carton mattress pad to Moscow when we moved here, so it must be the most comfortable bed in all of Russia. My back hasn't felt this good since that horrible week after the Intoya club review. Incidentally, in spite of the nasty letters that my editors are publishing, I've also been getting a lot of positive mail from readers, especially regarding my query about gay clubs. So thanks to my supporters. You've given me the courage to go on.

The good news only gets better, as Moscow has just been blessed by the opening of a sharp new club just across the street from Papa John's. Located in an elegant, spacious two-story palace at Ulitsa Myasnitskaya 13, Moscow's freshest barflower to bloom is ironically named "Club 13".

Two Saturdays ago, Club 13 inaugurated itself with a truly decadent opening party. Amy and I arrived somewhat late. I had heard that part of the eXile staff had been there earlier, and that they were sweating and angry like a bunch of mean drug addicts. Amy noted that she wasn't surprised, and hopes that my presence in this newspaper will eventually have a positive influence on the editors. We have always believed that change is best made by working within the system.

The opening party featured the creme de la creme of Moscow's nightlife elite as well as topless models painted in gold body paint. Amy agreed that it wasn't degrading, but rather self-consciously kitsch, and therefore we didn't disapprove.

The only unpleasant feature is the phalanx of flatheads at the door, arms folded in front of their crotches. I was lucky to get past them, but many people I saw weren't as lucky as me.

Up the wide, freshly-lacquered stairwell, the fun begins. The large hall features a sizeable dance floor, plenty of tables (both high stool and low chair), and energetic DJs pumping quality dance and house music. The second room features somewhat more esoteric techno music, setting a trippier mood.

But the real craziness is in the harem. I've never seen anything like it in my life. The harem is darkly lit, with broad silk-like fabrics hanging cushion-like from the ceilings. Black beanbags and barely-lit tables round the perimeter and the center. We saw couples kissing, flatheads tripping, and expats gawking at the utter decadence of it all.

Which brings me to my next point. Club 13 is what I'd call very expat-friendly. Sure, the drinks are somewhat in the budget-busting range. But hey, this is High Life Moscow. This is Park, Gallereya and Jazz Cafe all rolled into one, with a democratic flavoring. And for those of us who were rudely denied entrance to those snooty clubs, Club 13 is a better bet as a gateway. And with managers like Bobby from Moosehead, and owner Gary from Papa John's, you can be sure that this place will succeed.

Last Saturday, I went and checked out another club for this newspaper. It's called DK MAI, and it's already been reviewed here. I just wanted to add my two cents. First off, the night Amy and I went there, hip raver radio station 106.8 was having a party. You'd think the place would be jam-packed, but no. Guess why. They charged the kids 120 rubles entrance! Someone should really sit down and give the promoters there a short lesson in demand elasticity! 120 rubles is a lot of money to a Russian kid. Best to charge 50 rubles, and then mark up the drinks a little, wouldn't you say, guys?

A few kids in the audience, as well as some stage dancers, donned these really neat white gloves that sort of glowed while they danced. Amy thought it was a little gauche, but I was really impressed, and I hope to find a pair of white gloves for myself before I head out to my next rave party.

After we got home, Amy and I spooned and spooned, and didn't stop spooning until 4 the next afternoon, when I got up to cook one of my famous cholesterol-free non-lettes. As I prepared them, I realized the irony in reviewing Club 13 in the same issue where my luck has been best of all. And, if I may be so bold, I think my luck shows through in this very review, my best one yet.