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

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.