Over spring break I was gallivanting around Germany with one of my suitemates. In Frankfurt, a friend told us that the place to be on a Wednesday night was the club underneath the European Central Bank. Excited for the momentary lapse of the “war on fun” and the prospect of walking up to a bouncer without the usual drop in the stomach and sweat on the brow, I got dressed up in cute clothes and ready for a night on the town.
