Plain Vanilla

I was refused entry into Berlin’s most notorious sex club

- Hannah Choo

I WASN’T LOOKING to do anything stupid when I made plans to visit Berlin, but my friend Vicky and I stumbled on an ad for the KitKatClub on our last night. We were just done with a long dinner of garden sorrel and red wine in Kreuzberg, and because it was a Friday night, curiosity got the better of us. While we weren’t drunk enough to consider participation, we were game to set foot in Berlin’s most notorious nooky joint.

When you enter the KitKatClub, I imagine sex immediately losing its intimate appeal. Once past the rusty wired fence and into the old brick building, you’re quickly thrown into an orgy of sweaty Berliners celebrating their love for techno and bumping uglies. All this in a club located on the very slimy stretch of Köpenicker Straße, which isn’t the safest neighbourhood in Berlin. The lamp posts have lost their shine and strange people lurked in every nook and cranny. We had second thoughts by the time we got to the entrance.

“Maybe we should go back,” I said, as we paced back and forth, crossed the street and returned after a few minutes.