The beards-per-capita ratio at the Kitty Cat Klub last night was nothing short of impressive. Honestly, there may even have been some bearded ladies... or perhaps just wispy hipster chicks caught in the facial fluff of their significantly hip others.
Okay, so waspish stereotyping aside, Kitty Cat Klub was everything and nothing like I expected. It was my first foray into the Dinkytown standby, despite the fact that I have been suggesting it to friends forever. Working at the architecure building on campus gave me a good idea of what the place was like, considering that I think the entire department hangs out there. And as much as I like to distinguish myself from that half of the design community, I wandered out to Kitty Cat Klub last night because some friends were playing a show there, and because Sunday nights are boring.
There was some confusion about the time of the concert, so when I got there at 7pm, the place was dead. I grabbed a bottle of the one root beer they offer and sat down with a copy of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" to pass the time, before running into my band member buddies, who had also gotten there rather earlier than necessary. Of all the places I could imagine killing a few hours, the Kitty Cat Klub at that point of the evening was a front-runner for the top of the list. Somewhere between kitschy old library and opium den in decor, it had a bunch of couches, benches, and comfy chairs. Add to that some really decent food, which I think they brought in from Annie's upstairs, a photo booth, pool table, and some cheesy pinball games off in one corner, and it was like a less gimmicky version of the Chatterbox. And a half-decent bar, which even if I don't drink that much, I can appreciate, especially because watching the bartenders mix drinks was a good way to avert my view from the weird, arhythmic dancing of the hipsters once the music started.
And it had jewel-toned lights, which, combined with the sudden incursion of the inked-and-bearded around 9pm, really sort of made it feel like a circus.
