Krucifix

Being the good fallen Catholic that I am, and being in Berlin for [can it be?] my fourth Easter running, I decided to mark Good Friday in my best decadent style with another trip to the Kit Kat Club. No matter that I had not brought any particularly fancy party clothes along. [Berlin is my chance to feel that my increasingly impoverished drop-out lifestyle is way cool.] Being possessed of dangerous curves still gets me most places I want to go and spaghetti straps and tight black jeans are enough to do the trick. My voyeuristic cravings were, sadly, not completely satisfied as the usual crappy Berlin electronica drove me out by 2 AM or so, before people were really getting warmed up. But the man in the cardinal's costume wielding a fluorescent cross provided just the right touch. And it was nice to be in a club where sexy matters and people make an effort in that respect. At 12 euros it's a splurge, but my previous favorite spot for an hour or two of electronica (Tresor late on Wednesday night for only 5 euros) was a real disappointment the last time I went. They no longer open the neat-o downstairs machine room and being crowded into the upstairs bar with all the energetic young Germans on "E" is more than I can stand.