Clubbin’

GQ profiles what is likely the top-grossing nightclub in the world, Marquee in Las Vegas. It sounds awful to me, but at the same time, I’ve never held “a bottle between [my] legs and in great thrusting motions [sprayed] a $1,000 magnum of Dom Pérignon while below [me] women opened their mouths to receive [my] gilded French ejaculate.” I don’t know. I guess I’d try it once.

Part of the branding concept at Marquee is: Overwhelm the guest. And when we walked into that main room, we were indeed overwhelmed. Like it physically drew the air from our lungs and then replaced it with something that felt and tasted like vaporized Red Bull. The room had no visible ceiling. It was a clamshelly cavern of a place that glowed reddish and pulsed, with a dance floor at its focal point, layers of bottle-service tables perched around it, and a forty-foot LED screen above the DJ stage. The sound system cost $1.5 million and was built to rock a space as big as Madison Square Garden. Facing the speaker arrays was like walking into a strong headwind.

As a bonus, here’s a profile of the guy from Tampa who says he invented the lap dance.

Clubbin’

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