Sam Editorial: The Underground is Going Down


As everyone now knows Justin Bieber Night has come and gone for the second time at the Underground, signalling the second time most of campus has genuinely gotten excited about the prospect of waiting in line at the JDUC while blitzed. And while some may misinterpret that sentence as sarcasm it is entirely sincere, I love the Underground. It is by definition one of the best dankholes in Kingston. Undies takes the warmth, hip friendliness of the Brooklyn and couples it with a Stage’s inspired darkened portion of the dancefloor for people to make out. Throwback Thursday is the most consistently fun experience you can have while wearing all your clothes. Technically, Underground is also open on saturday’s but I’ve never been. However this is not a love letter to my favourite club so much as some tough love.
As a service that has consistently provided me with more butts to grind on than Camel Cigarettes, I have a lot of love for the Underground but, as much as it pains me to say this, for the good of the club and all its patrons they must raise their prices. Now I’m the first guy to jump at the prospect of cheap booze, but selling a bottle of wine practically at retail is nearly criminal. The joy of carting around an entire bottle of wine in a drinking establishment like a damn loony is simply too much of a good time to be allowed at my University! My main complaint directed at that derelict dominion just downstairs of the, by direct comparison, dingy Queen’s Pub is that they distribute too much fun per person. They give people a criminally good time, and don’t even charge for coat check. For the sake of my wallet and for the area around and including my toilet I have to demand that the Underground do something to make their service less attractive to myself and other such frugal individuals.
The Underground could definitely learn some lessons from Alehouse’s grimier cousin, Stages. Stage Rage’s outrageous $2.75 drinks is mathematically balanced out by a greasy assortment of patrons, and perpetually sticky floors. I don’t know whether I’d be more worried if those floors were never cleaned ever or if they were cleaned regularly because that mixture of sweat, booze, condom lube (presumably) and sexual secretions (likely) has never changed in its sticky consistency since I’ve been there. That being said, stages: excellent time place to dance, terrible place to give or receive oral sex (according to a friend of mine).
Conversely Undies could take the Alehouse approach. As a business they’ve lost money every year they’ve been in operation, so raising their prices to something appraching Ale levels would go pretty damn far to make sure that I wasn’t blowing forty bucks a night on like a baker’s dozen of drinks every time I’m at the bar. Just make me pay five bucks for a shot and I guarantee you I’m never drinking at your establishment for the rest of my natural life- isn’t that what we all want?
Undies we’ve had some good times, I have probably spent literally close to a thousand dollars within your artfully graffitied walls and in the interest of that never happening again you gotta teasing me to venture inside your friggin’ fantastic bar.