You have four weeks to party in a dance club with $4 Jägerbombs, smokin’ hot cage dancers, and crazies juggling fire balls, and then the DJ/freak show will disappear.



It’s been ages since I’ve gotten my groove on, but back in the day my weekends were spent swinging between dance clubs like a monkey on crack.   Last Friday, I came out of retirement for Carnival at The Loft.

For only four more weeks, the downtown club will host Carnival on Friday nights.  It’s a twisted circus, complete with aerial artists, ice sculptures and “ringmaster” Eric Powers.  The performers are part of the Seattle based underground P.U.R.E. Cirkus, the evil bastard-child of the show we went to as kids.  With stunning costumes and black eye makeup, these guys perform ludicrous and mind boggling acts.  The $12 cover is a tad bit pricey, but somewhat justified with a few drink specials, including $3 Heinekeins.

The madness begins at 9 p.m.  I arrived at 10, and by 11, the place was packed.  DJ Vinnie the Pooh was spinning, and even managed to throw in a few old school classics.  Good, because when Def Leppard was mentioned in the bathroom, a fledgling young girl said, “Who’s that?”  Even more shocking, I was the only one who seemed concerned.  I mean, you haven’t lived until you’ve been packed in a sweaty nightclub shakin’ your booty to “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”

The Loft has a strictly enforced dress code, so everyone was dressed to the nines, but I’ve never seen more half naked girls all in one place.  Two girls from No Limit Lingerie were in elevated cages, donning just booty shorts, body paint, and double d’s big enough to scare small children. 

Another girl was swinging fire wielding numchucks between her legs, just begging to singe something.  It was when an acrobat walked by me on his hands that I decided I needed another drink.  P.U.R.E. or People Undergoing Real Experiences, bring in performers from all over the country.  Their extreme stunts are reminiscent of car wrecks.  You can’t help but stare. 

Overall, it was a rockin’ good time.  What’s better than dancing, drinking and watching sideshow freaks do weird crap to themselves? This is just what Tacoma needs, but I was a little disappointed at the absence of any scary clowns.  I woke up Saturday morning wondering if it all really happened, and that’s a definite sign of a good Friday night. 

[The Loft, every Friday, 9 p.m., $12, 2106 Pacific Ave., Tacoma, 253.404.0540]