Say what you want about Hollywood's demise, inconvenience and filth, you can not take away its character. The only city west of 5th avenue that actually encourages pedestrians, Hollywood has a way of making every hour seem like midnight - even under the bright, hot California sun. Barely coming to life when most of its inhabitants fall to sleep, Hollywood attracts drunks, dopeheads, whores, ravers, athletes, hip-hoppers and naturally, stars alike to shared meeting points for the common goal of stimulation. I dared to step foot into this mecca of debauchery for a span of over two weeks to put this spotlight together for you, the curious reader. With a map to 'diversity' folded in my back pocket, I performed the sign of the cross over my face and chest and looked to find out more about this town, its people, and most importantly, three of its largest clubs.   The Ivar - I'll spare you the details regarding exact address, dress code and drink prices because I know you can figure out how to get here, what to wear, and how much money to bring. Let's just say that The Ivar is Hollywood and Vine meets the starship enterprise in a warehouse. Clearly this space wasn't meant to be a shelter for hipster-wannabes swaying to ambient house music, but hey, renaissance holds no prejudice. Two steps beyond the short, non-discriminant line, and you've set foot into a vast, tall space built for deep, crisp breaths of color and light. While the traditional dark venue backdrop dominates, towers of bright blue and plush seats of red tickle the small, swimming pool of space called the dance floor, directly in front of the DJ. Tonight, that role is played by DJ Alicia opening for Jason Bentley. We partied like it was 2099.   After a quick lap and surveillance of the two amply stocked bars, I start to get a good vibe about the place. Really interesting space, chilling yet not danceable music, and the potential to draw out some of Hollywood's finest makes for a good recipe for a club. Yet after hearing for the umpteenth time that Wednesday nights just go 'off' here (my arrival was on a Thursday), I start to realize that something is missing here: cool people. Wednesdays, hosted by Brent Bolthouse of Ritual @ AD fame (the only Saturday night afterhours spot in LA), generally see celebrities, large crowds and a buzz up and down Hollywood Boulevard. One night later, as I observed, and there are more cheese puffs in this art-deco dream than in P Money's food bowl. About two dozen or so patrons are wiggling around on the dance floor with absolutely no sense of rhythm nor placement in their surroundings, and I'm immmediately transported from a cozy evening of clubbing to doing the chicken dance at my cousin's wedding. As the evening progressed, the atmosphere seemed to worsen. The alcohol started settling in to the crowd's guts and the dance moves headed south. Jason takes the decks from Alicia and breathes a brief sense of adulthood into the scene (his rendition of Underworld's Two Months Off was clearly the evening's highlight), but its not enough to completely salvage this Thursday night. Call me spoiled or a snob, but I wouldn't return to The Ivar unless I was bringing my own crowd with me...then it has some possibilities.    The Highlands - In what was already a maddening traffic center, the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland Avenue recently gave birth to a multimedia extravaganza, known simply as The Highlands. Where but in Hollywood could a five-star restaurant, the Gap, and an aspiring club all share the same parking lot overlooking the entire Los Angeles basin? The Highlands is an electric atmosphere built for the world's travellers to shoot down to 'LA' and take some snap shots of the bright lights and big city. Its even only a matter of foot steps away from Mann's Chinese Theatre. After paying for parking (I half-expected the parking attendant to hand me a disposable camera upon entrance) and spending no less than 15 minutes climbing stairs and walking to the top level loft of this 'mall', I arrive at an impressive queue of people looking for entrance. As if the traffic and parking wasn't enough of an irritant, now I have to deal with bouncers and doormen with serious authority complexes. The general sense in line is that its getting late, its too crowded to hope for a non-VIP entrance, and that everyone inside is just better than the common man. I need to work some magic, and fast, but my days of greasing the bouncer are long over. All I want is a peek inside, but along with 6 other male friends, and only 3 cuties, our chances are slim. Ugh, annoying. Finally, through methods that needn't be explained, I crack the line and find myself inside...although I'm practically alone. Over an hour wait and the place is maybe 3/5ths full. What a load of crap! Hip Hop music fills the air about 80% of the time, with a few dance hits sprinkled in here and there, but no mixing nor flow to speak of, creating a lack of continuity on the dance floor. The drinks are outstanding, prices not so much and the entire crowd releases a sigh of disappointment immediately upon crossing the velvet rope. Do yourself a favor, if you're heading out to The Highlands, pay the $40 for a sensational dinner at neighboring Loggia and waltz downstairs to the club whenever you are ready (avoiding the line and wait altogether.) The Highlands is many things, but none of them are worth that much of my time.   Spundae @ Circus Disco - So here I am, finally Saturday night and I'm headed to largest, premier trance venue in Hollywood. During the week, Circus Disco is a seldom used gay and latin club; on Saturday, the reknowned event Spundae takes over. With average capacity estimates that range anywhere from 2500 to 4000 people, Spundae, which also hosts events in San Fran, Chi-town and Vegas, is by most measures a very organized rave. Fully equipped with a fruit buffet (mostly oranges and pineapples), three bars and two offset rooms of complimenting dance tunes, I'm starting to realize that this is one place where candy kids and frat boys can both share a good time. On a typical Saturday night, you're sure to see at least 50 pills exchange hands, at least three young-looking ladies dressed as fairies, and countless people of questioned sexual preference. Apparently this was not to be a typical night. This is what happens when Salazar goes out for Halloween.   The Saturday after Halloween, and you expect to see some added sense of madness, but factor in the number one DJ in the World, Tiesto (fuck Oakenfold), and this was absolute mayhem. I never like leaving the home before 11pm for these all-night ragers, but I knew it was going to be a special night. After making an early, 9pm arrival, I figured I could pace myself for a nice lengthy evening. Then, kaboom...a line of no less than 2,000 people just to get into the PARKING LOT! The usual line awaited patiently in front of the club, on top of this monstrosity. Within 15 minutes of my arrival, I heard: "I've been here since 7pm!" "I'm on the VIP list!" "I'm an executive producer for MTV!" "We'll riot!" Not a single one of these is made up...its a near miracle that the crowd did not become unruly. Luckily for yours truly, I prepurchased tickets online and only had to wait a little over a half hour. The music...good lord, the music is amazing. Tiesto is a trance messiah, jostling and toggling people through the proverbial journey of sullen happiness. There isn't the slightest hint of chemicals in my body, yet I feel lifted above the earth, completely in tune with each beat of bass. The lights, well placed air conditioning and pleasant crowd create the most pleasurable atmosphere for a night of dancing, real dancing. And for the first time in two weeks, I dance...I'm sweating through my shirt and I couldn't care less. Just when I think it can't get any better, the club releases a quasi-kryogenetic effect of extreme white, cold smoke completely over the crowd. This blinding cloud completely envelops me, and for nearly a minute, all I can see is this white blanket and the face of my dance partner; all I can feel is the bass and sound hugging me. This is heaven. This is my heaven. Its nearly 2:30am and I'm done. I'm not getting old - old is getting me. Spundae is the type of event that requires two days of reflection afterwards, and I know I can't do another thing for hours. Then someone asks if I'm going to afterhours at AD, where maybe we can get in around 4am after the line. Here we go again. Salazar
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