Woohoo, Boohoo

Woohoo: Gay club

I recently had the fortune to check out a gay club in Vancouver, called the Junction. Going in, I assumed that it’d be like any other Vancouver club, besides a slightly different clientele. However, as I received a stamp on the arm from the topless man at the coat check, it dawned on me that this place was unique.

It wasn’t just the nearly seven-foot-tall drag queens, or the half-naked men on the dance floor sucking face with a passion I wanted to take notes on; it was the utter joy on people’s faces. It was seeing everyone be who they were without compromise. Young, old, straight, gay — the binaries disappeared and partying hard was all that mattered. Security personnel seemed almost ornamental: the space’s safety never felt compromised.

Gay clubs are a beautiful microcosm of love and passion that other nightclubs could stand to emulate more. Not to mention, the one place where you’re guaranteed not to get dry humped without consent.

Boohoo: Nightclub

Looking to spend your hard-earned pay cheque on watered down booze and a night you’ll probably forget? Grab some comfortable kicks and a shirt you don’t mind staining with sweat: it’s time you hit the club.

You’re only one arm-and-a-leg cab ride away, if you can get past the velvet rope and the self-hating bouncer. It’s smooth sailing after that, and all that’s left to do is fork over an overpriced cover charge and coat check fee to get into a club that couldn’t reach maximum occupancy if it tried. But, hey, you’ve thrown $100 down the drain without even trying — you might as well go all the way. Start bumping and grinding to a mix that your 10-year-old cousin on Froot Loops could have mastered better.

To conclude your night of dancing (or a poor excuse of drunken shuffling, whatever), try procuring transportation back home. Have fun forgetting that it’s the taxis with the lights on that are available.