Homage To The Post-First World: My Wanderings in Europe, Part 3
Stockholm, Sweden
Greg and I left the club in a state of shock. I had been to some terrible night clubs back in Washington, DC, but this one took the cake.
I mean, c’mon, what about Swedish House music? When people think of Stockholm, they think DJs and house music, hot blond women and Svedka vodka.
I had seen the ads, so I felt like I knew what to expect.
But we had started to notice that something was up the minute we went down into the metro. It was like leaving the land of the Eloi and entering the land of the Morlochs. The smell of fresh piss was hard to miss, as were the gypsy beggars, and the fact that we suddenly found ourselves to be in the minority. Africans jumped the turnstiles ahead of us and the cars were filled with full hijab’d women pushing baby strollers.
The minute that we got out in downtown Stockholm, near Stureplan, things got better. There were only well-to-do Swedes around us now. Boomer Swedes burning their life-savings away at fancy restaurants and Millennial Swedes dressed up for a night out on the town.
Anyway, despite laying down 300 Swedish Krona (about 35 USD) at the door, we were keen on leaving almost as soon as we got in.
It looked inviting from the outside, to be fair. All the local guide books recommended the place and even the globetrotters on the PUA forum that I frequented back in the day had a thread up praising the place. To be fair, we should have noticed how the Arab bouncers at the door looked at us.
But we had no choice. Read more








