Whilst queuing I noticed that certain people were getting turned away from the club. Not quite sure what the door policy is but it appeared as though it was inexperienced clubbers that were being shown the exit. Looking breathtakingly peachy and hot in my trademark orange wraparounds and cap we didn’t have any problems getting into this monstrous sized warehouse.
With a dozen recommendations before jetting off, my spiritual erection was very much looking forward to enjoying itself. A mixed crowd and music policy ensured that most folk were kept happy. We spent most of our time in the upstairs pananaroma bar which would sporadically allow the outside blinds to open letting in a bright beam of white light to cause momentary confusion. This place definitely reached the golden Juice standard that harsh critics employ in measuring the grade and caliber of many a disco establishment.
Bagging a couple of hours of kip, we squeezed in a flying lesson after a rooftop lunch. The larma did an amazing job and scored top marks with her landing at the memorial centre. During lunch we met this affable German chap called Patrick. Impressed by the size of his guidebook, we allowed him us to take us to the Sony Centre. I was mightily impressed with the awesome lighting and contemporary design. Caught some impressive late evening disco-skating and then rounded it off with the Brandenburg Gate and midnight falafel.
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