It was an off night for this place. I had three friends in from LA, and we were dreadfully bored. So my friend Parker, who's not content unless Paris Hilton is running around with her tits on fire, decided to take action. He asked to speak to one of the club's managers, then began an elaborate story about how he was the contract supervisor for a condo that was being built next door. He didn't look the part--here he was dressed in a big floppy hat like a rocker--but he definitely acted the part, and this big, dumb Italian beefcake of a manager was suddenly looking very nervous. Parker said officiously, "We're having a lot of problems with the noise levels at night," and the manager said, "Oh, that's strange--we're hearing the opposite from the day shift because there's so much construction noise." So the exchanges continued back and forth, and then Parker asked for the guy's card, telling him in the voice of authority, "Someone will contact you in five days, after we've made our report." The funny thing was, of course, that because the building next door was under construction, with no one living there, how could there be any noise complaints?
--Tyler Curtis, photographer