Club Scene
No cure for Virus addiction
By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer
 |
| DJ Mr. Goodvybe looks through his records before getting ready for a night of cranking out the music at the Virus nightspot.
Eugene Tanner • The Honolulu Advertiser Virus 1687 Kapi'olani Blvd. 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays; after-hours 2-8 a.m. $5 951-9881 |
Virus — where everyone knows how old you're not.
The latest all-ages venue, neighbors to upperclassmen Club Femme Nu and Rock-Za, lures the late-night ravers with swirling lights, true trance and enough space to bust a move and be yourself.
Pacifier-sucking, microlight-spinning candy ravers packed into the second-floor club. 2:08 a.m. A Sunday morning cartoon show, with kids in knit caps, pigtails and plaid skirts with monster boots. Orange fluorescent lights bounce off the black walls. The black lights illuminate wide smiles, white socks and the confetti scattered on the floor.
A candy shop, a toy store and a playground rolled into one.
"On Saturday nights this is the place to be," raved Sean Akiu, who, at age 18, sported a yellow Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt and a pink Powerpuff Girls backpack. Seven bead bracelets ran up his right arm — gifts of friendship from other sugary clubgoers.
It's only his second time to Virus; he normally haunts 1739, aka The Shelter. Same concept: no alcohol and everyone's welcome.
"I love The Shelter ... but I like a variety of deejays," said the journalism major at the University of Hawai'i-Manoa. He stood in front of the deejay booth, where Lock 'N' Load from Holland was spinning the coveted underground trance that has Gen-Y collectively on its feet.
More than 500 nightcrawlers escape to Virus every weekend, most arriving after 2 a.m.
"It's a really mixed crowd," said 28-year-old promoter Tim Hazelgrove, hip with a split goatee and electric blue sneakers with big, silver stars. "It's weird, the age differences, and there's never any fights."
Blame the music. That's why most of these rave kids stay up past their bedtimes to be here.
"This is the only place where it's solely trance," said Robert Holzhauer, a 20-year-old Leeward Community College student who makes the journey to Virus from Waipahu at least twice a week. "It's a dedicated club."
He adjusted his knit cap and got into the repetitive beats that start to lull your body into an unconscious sway.
"I don't do glowsticking," he added without prompting, watching other ravers twirl lights with their twisting wrists. "I let them do that." He called out, "Go do your thing," and walked away.
He disappeared into the crowd that had formed around several new-school breakdancers, who opted to twist their bodies instead of their glowsticks. Windmills, headspins — the moves brought back eighth-grade memories of cardboard flats and bad hair.
A blonde in a glitter halter top dragged her friend, in a long crochet jacket, through the spectators. With tousled hair and matching dazed looks, they headed straight for the restroom, where a line of chatty lollipop girls talked, waited, talked, waited.
"We need more raves after hours," moaned Melissa Jones, who, at 25, could have been one of the oldest clubbers there. The waitress from Salt Lake lamented about not having places to go after 2 a.m. And not just any place. A place where the chemistry is right, with a good vibe that keeps her coming back.
"I like the atmosphere here," said Jones, her third time to Virus. "Everyone is friendlier than in bars, where it's competitive. Here, everyone's on the same wavelength."
Her light eyes glowed eerily under the black light, as she surveyed the room. Ravers, dancers, deejays. Her plunging neckline and tight black pants could have put her anywhere, in any club, in Oceans, in Pipeline, at the Wave. But she's here instead.
"It's got a good vibe," she said, her blond curls bouncing with each word.
It's a different place to be, less a scene and more a location. Sixteen eighty-seven Kapi'olani Blvd. is a place to make new friends, swap CDs, exchange beads, feel trance, show off the latest Hot Topic fashion. Not to hook up, not to get digits, not to down Tequila shots. It's all about stimulation.
But it's Virus, the name being all about something that catches on quickly. And maybe without a cure.
