THE DADDY OF ALL CLUBS
Berlin is packed with polymorphously perverse petting zoos, perhaps the most notorious being Berghain, a gargantuan former electric power station converted into an electronic music club. Setting several city blocks at hump every weekend from Friday at midnight through early Monday afternoon, Berghain is a DJ- and drug-fueled free-for-all, with booming, high-ceilinged dance floors interspersed with labyrinthine dark rooms. Admission fees are extremely modest, but be prepared for hours long queues even in early dawn hours. And waiting in line by no means assures getting in once you reach the entrance.
Sven Marquard, severe in his gray-streaked beard and 24-7 sunglasses, leads the world’s most inscrutable crew of bouncers; they will assess your wardrobe, interrogate your aspirations, and look you deep in the eyes to scan your soul before deciding whether you’re admitted (about one in three hopefuls are turned away, and if you come with a group don’t count on all making it in). It’s supposedly easier to win passage if you dress simply (and in black), make an effort to politely answer questions in German, and are queer. Still, there’s never a guarantee.
There is one major lubehole (uh, loophole!) for gay men, but it requires its own sort of courage. To the left of Berghain’s main entrance is a concrete loading dock that leads to a males-only basement level (with no inside access to the other parts of the club) known as Lab.Oratory. Lines are shorter, but there’s a limited two-hour period each night during which guests are allowed to arrive, and dress/undress codes vary from night to night. Tamping down my sense of intimidation to adopt a “When in Berlin…” attitude and, of course, be of generous service to PASSPORT readers, I took the plunge for a learning experience.
The night’s theme was among the Lab’s least specific (nudity, underwear and leather gear were all deemed acceptable outfits). I deposited most of my clothes at a check-in desk and, in just a jockstrap, socks, and sneakers, entered a large dimly lit bar room humid with beer and ballsweat. Hundreds of nearly naked men—skinny, heavy, smooth, hairy, muscled, and dad-bodded—drank, flirted, and danced to techno between forays into side halls and chambers where all manner of mansex went down with libertine boldness.
While I’d convinced myself I was ready for anything before arriving, I quickly realized that I was only ready to see anything. And frankly, even from just a people-watching perspective, a little Lab.Oratory went a long way. The student in me may indeed live forever, but Phys Ed was never my thing.
LESSONS LEARNED
It turns out that for this visiting scholar, a week’s visit was the perfect length for my Berlin 101. In some ways, I feel like I barely scratched this amazing city’s surface, but from another perspective, I realize that the city burrowed deep into my mind, generating new questions and curiosities to explore on a return trip to Berlin.
This provocative metropolis is a testament to the possibility of moving forward and learning from loss. Its a potent reminder that identity, and opinions, need not remain fixed; that open mindedness and open heartedness make good traveling companions.
Did I have fun Berlin? Absolutely. But much more. Because the real joy in travel is not in “taking a vacation” but in continuing one’s life long education.
