A true tale (sort of) from behind the Velvet Door

Penn Dawson, Contributor, Jakarta

Location: Hotel Sahid Jaya, 18th Floor, Jl. Sudirman No. 86, Central Jakarta. Telephone: 572-5992. Hours: Wednesday to Saturday 6 p.m. to 2 a.m.

He stepped out of the elevator on the 18th floor of the Hotel Sahid Jaya. Who knew this place had 18 floors, he mused.

There was an Indian restaurant on the right and the left was the Velvet Door, a new club/bar. He went left.

He was confronted with a table and a group of about four people all dressed in velvet, or is that velveteen. He remembered his mom made him a shirt with this kind of fabric when he was about six. She made him wear it on Easter Day. He's hated Easter ever since, though eventually he forgave his mom.

Cover charge, they told him. Rp 50,000 to get in. Is there always a cover charge for this place, he asked. There was. So he paid and walked through the door and into a dark little hallway, with the walls covered in thick red cushions.

He stepped into the club proper and had a slow look around. It was smaller than he expected, though it was plenty big as long as it was empty as it was now. But what do you expect at 9 p.m. on a Wednesday night.

To the right he saw the DJ booth, from which was emanating some kind of music. He called it house, but that's what he called all of this kind of music he heard at clubs. In front of the DJ booth was a scattering of tables and chairs, all empty.

And there were two nooks, one on either side of the DJ booth. They were furnished with huge, overstuffed sofas, and offered some seclusion if you wanted a little private party.

To the left was the bar, which took up most of the room on that side of the room, expect for the one secluded nook, furnished like the other two.

And dig that chandelier overhead and the big mirror right in front of him.

He walked to the bar, handed over his drink ticket and ordered a martini. The bartender said the drink ticket he received for the Rp 50,000 he paid at the door was good for a cocktail, beer, soda. He sipped his martini and wondered why anyone would order a Rp 50,000 soda.

He watched the bartenders cut up fruit for a while, which was the only entertainment the place had to offer. That quickly got boring, so he checked out the woman at the end of the bar.

Her hair was bob short. He preferred women with long hair, but he would lie if she asked him.

Her long, black skirt and white blouse, plus the bag sitting at her feet, made him think she came straight from the office. He looked at his own ensemble: blue jeans, dirty from being worn for four straight days, scuffed blue tennis shoes and a button-up short-sleeve shirt, wrinkled of course. He looked like he had just woken up and put on whatever clothes happened to be on the floor nearest the bed, which was partly true (he actually had just woken up and found his clothes hanging over the back of a dining room chair).

He walked over and took the stool next to her. They sat together in silence, sipping their drinks. Soon their glasses were empty, and they stayed that way for what seemed like an unreasonably long time, considering how few customers the hired help had to take care of.

Finally a bartender came over.

He ordered a Jack Daniels with very little ice for Rp 50,000. Her glass was empty so he asked her if he could buy her a drink. She ordered a Chivas Regal, neat, for Rp 50,000.

Typical prices for a club in a hotel he thought as he scanned the drinks list. Wine, cocktails, beer, spirits. The same thing at every joint.

She checked out the mural behind the bar, a surreal sort of thing that was like something Dali would have done, if Dali had been a cut-rate muralist, while he checked her out.

He attempted conversation, which was possible because the music wasn't so loud as to swallow his words.

"Hey, baby, what say we go over to that nice couch and get comfortable."

"You get right to the point."

"Well, the editor wants about 700 words and I'm already there. So I've got no space to waste. Why don't we blow this place and go to Retro."

"I would but I find you sickeningly handsome."

"You got it half right, sweetheart."

He called for the bill and paid up. Rp 210,000 for two Jack Daniels, one Chivas Regal and one Remy Martin, plus the Rp 50,000 it cost to get in.

As he headed for the exit, he took one last look around. He saw a lot of red and very few people. The place could be a good laugh if it could draw a crowd. Maybe he'd come back later, after the Velvet Door had had more time to establish itself as a nighttime destination.