Closing Lights

Many people know about my aversion to closing lights. Closing lights are the bright lights that go on in the bar after last call. It’s at this time that people are at their worst. It’s at this time that men get that last chance gleam in their eyes, when digits are being exchanged, advances refused, when bad decisions are being made, when prostitutes are sizing up wallets and drunkenness.

Joni Mitchell said it perfectly in the song Down to You on her album, Court and Spark. I love these lyrics because they are universally true:

A few drinks later you’re not so choosy
When the closing lights strip off the shadows
On this brand new flesh you’ve found
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
You hurry
To the blackness
And the blankets
To lay down an impression
In your loneliness

The past few nights I’ve been checking out the nightclub scene in Vientiane. It is excruciating for me to go to these places. Over the years, I have ruined my ears with concerts and clubs; I now prefer a quieter environment where I can talk and listen. I swore off going to nightclubs back in 2003 when I left a club called Loft 6 in Vancouver only moments before some “gangsters” showed up and shot a few people – I took this as a warning and decided my clubbing days were over.

However, in my research here in Laos, it is necessary that I get at least a cursory understanding of the club scene in Vientiane. In the city center, there are a few such as Baw Pen Yang and Don Chan Palace. Outside of the center there are quite a few more clubs which cater mostly to Laos people with only a few falang. One place is called Top Dance near That Luang, another is called The Future on the northern end of the city, I can’t remember the names of the others. Most clubs have at least some degree of sex tourism going on. This is something I have a hard time watching and a hard time looking away. Last night, after Linkin’ Park, Cranberries remix, the very popular Happy Birthday and slew of other bad songs, this was the scene.

Some wealthy businessmen had ordered about a half dozen girls-for-hire to join them at one club. The girls were in their early twenties, the businessmen in their fifties. One of the men had found one of the selections suitable. The other two I think were a little disappointed with their choices. As the closing lights grew near, the two unsatisfied men began looking to neighboring tables for better selections. This was bad enough, but from the girl’s side, it was worse.

As each girl realized they would not be selected, they began looking around for who else might be interested in an hour or two contract. The look in their eyes – their very business like eyes – made me quite sad. My friend leaned over to me and said “If I could save just one…” I shook my head. There is no saving the worker until the market changes and company closes its doors.

Go to a nightclub. Listen to the music. Chat with your friends. Have a few drinks. Meet some people. Dance. When the closing lights come on, go home. Go home alone and play with yourself if you really need it. In the morning, think about why investing in temporary slavery would have been only you ‘laying down an impression in your loneliness’.