A short report from my last visit at Goldentime Club Vienna (On multiple requests here is a translation)
Weekend. Goldentime Vienna. I arrived around 5:30 p.m. Striking emptiness at the parking spot. Even the obligatory boastful sports car from Maranello was missing. I entered with determination, a bit sceptically. Inside I had a similar impression. A hint of apocalyptic mood.
Twilight of the Gods.
Hardly anything going on in the wardrobe, the toilets and showers are rarely used or not used at all. 2 of 3 showers broken. That shouldn't be the case with a self-respecting club. Surprisingly, however, the rear soap dispenser was refilled. Hallelujah!
What grace!
Spotted a couple of new girls in the dressing room, not really a feast for the eyes, none of them my type: too old, too worn out, too artificial,
too much tattoos, too much silicone, botox and plastic! I don't need that, I thought. You get to see something nicer elsewhere.
After changing clothes, I left the wardrobe. The ambience for me still too dark, too gloomy. Infernal. Is that a metaphor? I wondered.
No, because the boss maybe doesn't know what to do with this word anyway.
I quickly left this depressive blackness behind me and headed towards the garden. Where have all the girls gone?, I thought to myself. In the past, all hell broke loose at this time, in the truest sense of the word!
Now only the color of the walls indicated the former "Hades".
It was weekend. Mind you: WEEKEND! Friday and Saturday used to be the days with the highest rates, both for girls and for male guests. And the few prostitutes I glimpsed, hardly flattered my eyes.
The number and selection did not differ in any way from the competitor called Funpalast in Vienna Liesing, only that there is already included 30 minutes sex in the 110 euro entrance fee. Actually I had to find out that the GT entrance fee (95 euro) is almost a mockery for all male clients.
After all, as the evening progressed, the number of pretty women present increased, which reached its peak around 7 p.m., but who, more or less bored, hoarded together to smoke, stare into space and besiege the sofas.
Their eyes passed some male guests almost disparagingly and exchanged Romanian gibberish. Cold dislike was palpable in some prostitute´s eyes.
If looks could kill!
I let the few rays of sunshine shine on my stomach and tried to make the best of it. If I didn't like a prostitute, so I decided I could always leave the place without having accomplished anything, eat something and have fun with a nymph outside the Club for a cheaper price.
What surprises me is that, apart from a few exceptions (Coralia, for example), hardly any prostitute showed the slightest impetus to initiate a serious conversation. They immediately want to herd the customers into the room to extort 150 euros!
My summary: There is nothing on offer that justifies the 95 euro entree or the 150 euro for half an hour with a callgirl.
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