Shipwreck

This place is like entering a hole in the hull of an old, beached shipwreck that was commissioned centuries ago to transport sea hags to the new world. And it is haunted by those very sea hags who, if they're not too busy staring slack-jawed into space, will approach and attach to you like a sea leech. These tired, listless women (and a couple of girls) have all the verve and sex appeal of a mandatory traffic violation class. The club itself inspires instant claustrophobia which only intensifies when a middle aged (drunk?) "dancer" drapes herself on you to ply her trade. Only by buying a dance or leaving can you be left alone after this. Not one attractive female in the place; not on a Friday afternoon, anyway. "Seedy" is the word. And "musty" is another. After making sure there wasn't some unapparent factor that was keeping the place afloat, like amazing mileage or great conversation, I left this creaky, cobwebbed galleon. Never go here.