It was my first time at I2 Lounge at the Metropolitan Hotel on Sheikh Zayed Road.
I had no clue about how this night would turn out.
I usually fall into the same patterns on weekends…. Clock off work 5pm on Thursday afternoon, have an early one or on the rare occasion get dolled up for a night at Club 400; beach/pool/gym Friday morning OR sleep in until early afternoon (depending on my Thursday night decision really); Friday evening get ready for a boogie to some electro-synth favourites at Alpha or head over for a cheesy 80s night at The Lodge.
When Tracy suggested heading to I2 Lounge to celebrate her birthday, I was a bit hesitant to attend. Don't get me wrong, I've heard many good things about I2 from my peers, but the fact it was located at the seedy Metropolitan Hotel gave me doubts. An old establishment (for Dubai standards), its red flashing signboards screamed 'tacky' to me. Also, it was home of one of the seediest bars of EARTH, the notorious Rattlesnake. The Rattlesnake was a brothel, but since brothels were illegal in the Islamic state of Dubai, it wasn't really a brothel. Basically, if you wanted some action and were willing to pay for it, your best bet would be to head to the Rattlesnake.
Still, I brushed my worries aside and put on a nice dress and took a taxi out to JLT to meet the others (there was no way I would arrive there alone). Me, together with Tracy in her birthday best, Tracy's best friend Ramona, Ramona's buff boyfriend Dan, and Tracy's neighour Allan, all squeezed into a taxi and drove the long road down to the Metropolitan. I2 was located around the side of the hotel, and was a small underground place full of plasma TV's showing film clips from the 90s and furnished with white leather couches. It was small, or perhaps you might say intimate, and everyone there seemed chill.
A couple of hours later, after some beers and cheers, I found myself just staring at the TV just watching the corny film clips accompanying the music. The music was good, but we were starting to get restless and ready for the real party to start. We lasted 10 minutes in the hip hop club inside the hotel and re-evaluated out plan. Then Ramona screamed out "RATTLESNAKE" and after initial bouts of laughter and my very defiant "that's disgusting!!", the plan was set. We were all in it 'for a laugh'.
As we approached the Amercian Western Roadhouse themed bar, we could already tell that the Rattlesnake was alive and kicking. Although there was a small group of guys hanging around the enterance, Dan walked straight up to the door man and he ushered us in, handing us two drink vouchers each. Did we pay for entry? I really don't remember.
My first thought as we entered the noisy, smokey bar, was a reminder to myself not to make eye contact with anyone, especially the men. It was hard though, the place was bustling with tight lycra clad bodies and dirty denimed men. If you weren't looking at faces of these women, you were staring at their ample busts, their long manicured nails heavy with massive jeweled rings or their appropriate CFM boots (not forgetting that at midnight in Dubai the weather was still a cool 30 degrees)...
Myself and Romana found a spot at the bar, waved our drink vouchers at the barman and in no time had two Coronas in our hands. We were almost cheek-to-cheek with the patrons of this bar. I looked up at a tall women on my right and she looked down on me with the dirtiest look I've ever been given. I leaned over to Ramona and whispered,
"These women are thinking we're a bunch of new skanks taking their business away". We laughed and made our way over to the dance floor.
Ramona found an oddball loner on the dance floor and started a dance off with him, while the rest of us shared a quiet boogie on the sidelines. After a few songs from the band, I realised all the alcohol had caught up with me and I desperately needed to go to the bathroom. The bathroom in this place was the last place I wanted to go to... I dragged Tracy and we made our way over...
Tracy kicked the door open, so as to avoid touching anything. And inside the worlds seediest bathroom, we looked at the slimy walls, then back at each other, and I made a silent prayer that we don't catch a disease from here. I kicked open the cubicle door once again, and avoiding direct contact with the lock, used my cardigan as a glove to shut it. The back of the toiler door was scribbled with Russian text.
'Anna, 050-5555555, 1000 dhs', 'Katy 050-5555555, 2500 dhs'. Something for every budget I guess.
As I walked through the crowd, I was positive that myself, Tracy and Ramona were the only women there that were not prostitutes. I felt sorry for the women, but even more so for the men. The feeling was hard to describe. I felt such a deep humiliating pity for the men there. I wanted to cry.
Then I had a thought, what happens if I saw someone I know? It wouldn't be embarrassing for me; since I was there 'for a laugh', practically dragged there against my will, unable to ditch Tracy on her birthday since I'm such a good friend; but I'd be so embarrassed for that person, who obviously enjoyed being there. Maybe I was being to judgemental.
Back at the edge of the dance floor, I again avoided eye contact with anyone. I felt a guy creep up close to me. I ignored him. He nudged me and said hello. I moved closer to Dan, ignoring him completely.
"Hi, how are you?"
No response. Maybe a quick dirty look to make him go away but he didn't get the hint.
"How much?"
I really didn't know what to say. I turned to him and felt like punching his face in. But in a place like the Rattlesnake, could I really blame any man asking me this question?
At the end of the night, we tallied up our requests: I had 2, Tracy had 2 and Ramona didn't have a clue as she was too drunk to remember anything.
Topping the night off, instead of making our usual Burger King run, we decided that it was perfectly normal and hygienic to grab a table outside the Rattlesnake to purchase a few burger and chips combos.
When I got home, I showered immediately.
Things I learnt that night:
The dirty side of Dubai is very, very dirty
Going to a brothel 'for a laugh' will still make you feel dirty and disgusting
Those flashing red lights outside the hotel really do mean something
No comments:
Post a Comment