
As we reach the last step he opens the double doors for us onto a new floor, another level, another genre of music. The techno hits us like a thump to the chest, as flashing laser lights crowd the room. We breathe in the heat of the herd of tourists partying as if this night is their last and the heavy scent of beer, sweat and perfumes that hang in the air. The moment slows down. Women in little more than leather panties gyrate around in their designated cages for our viewing pleasure. As we pass through the room to the bar at the other side you catch individual snap shots of the weekend ravers you pass by. The 20-something stag drinking away his last few moments of bachelordom, the raven haired Eastern European girl confirming her bohemian existence, and the group of business men cutting loose after a week in the rat race. Red, green, yellow, and blue illuminate their faces.