The EndUp Has Lost A Fan: Money Changes Everything
The EndUp is one of those clubs I had heard about for years before ever stepping foot in. Once I moved to a house a couple blocks away, I knew it wouldn't be long before I experienced the infamous club for myself. What I discovered was a place that soon became my new favorite late night/weekend morning dancing venue--The patio with it's waterfall and fountain, the chill space with it's comfy fur covered couch and warm fireplace. Yes, the people hurling in the garbage can, the long lines for the bathroom with people passed out in the stalls, the aggressive, bug-eyed, sweaty men and the stiletto-heeled women trying to swim in the fountain and hanging their breasts over the balcony certainly made it clear how it had earned it's less-than-pure reputation, but it was actually cool, and I developed a quick affinity for it-- especially when it plays host to some of my favorite parties. However, my experience this last Saturday/Sunday has now made me wonder if the EndUp has finally become just another big money club with a lot of attitude and no soul. The patio was still there, but the comfy, fur covered seating? Gone. In it's place was a sea of ugly, Camel Cigarette brand tables. In fact, the Camel brand was appallingly everywhere, and only showed that the owners have given up style and class for free gear from cigarette companies. New furniture aside, the most disappointing moment came when we left and tried to return 2 hours later in the morning, to find that although the party we had come to support was going on until noon, the folks at the door would be charging us a brand new $20 entrance fee. They insisted it was a ""different"" party, and our stamps had expired at 7am, even though we'd only come back for the end. The nasty woman at the ticket window screeched at us, ""we have to make money too!"" as though we were vermin trying to rip them off despite having spent buckets at the bar all night long. A neighbor and a patron, the EndUp has lost me as a fan.