Arriving to a club after a few shots of whiskey isn't something I normally recommend. I also almost never recommend racking up a $70 bar tab.

But what is it the good book says, humble Volcano readers? Judge not lest ye have hit the dance floor hard? 

Sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do. And this man decided the best way to handle a night at Olympia's new club, the 1230 Room, was to get drunk. Three sheets to the wind, have a hard time remembering things, shithoused DRUNK.

Lucky for this column, I decide to jot down notes on a little notepad during my drunken night at Olympia's newest club. The notes are surprisingly lucid to start. I write the club is "L.A. Chic" and that, "even in Olympia, people like to dress up on rare occasions."  I take up a half page describing a set of artsy skateboards hanging on the walls. I'm also infatuated with the "comfy lounge chairs" and "the soft, clubby lighting."

But as the bar tab increases the fluidity of the notes starts to fade. I quip that, "there are hot hipster babes and muscle guys everywhere." I write that the 1230 Room is, "the bangingest (sic) meat market in town" and that, "I'm so hyped on this club." After an entry surrounded in stars that announces "Big Pun is playing baby," I note that, "1230 is number one in Olympia!" 

The most telling part of my notepad comes at the end, though. Somehow, I schmooze my way in with a couple of ladies. I hand over my notepad and they write in big, frilly letters all sorts of also-drunken things. Stuff like, "booties on the dance floor" and "everybody's kissing". On the back of the pad, a girl named Felicity even writes her number.

That's right, a girl gives me her number. Though I have little recollection of the event, I can say the 1230 Room is one of the few places I've actually been gifted a number. $70 bar tab and memory loss be damned. The 1230 Room is worth the hangover.  

1230 Room

$3 cover Thursday-Saturday
111 Washington St. NE, Olympia