"StrangeBrew" is a column about unusual places to drink in Shanghai -- places with a gimmick. Weekly, biweekly, monthly, or just whenever, we look at bars and clubs in which Shanghai proprietors have let their own personal obsessions and dementias find expression in shaky business ventures.
This club's a plane, y'all.
So, the Da Tong Mill
Well, let's just stop right fuckin' there, shall we?
Is it the Da Tong Mill or Da Tong Mall? We snuck into the place when it was being renovated a few months ago, and it said "Da Tong Mill" in a few places and "Da Tong Mall" in a few places, and we figured it was a clerical translation error and they must mean "mall". Because a "mall" is a large commercial complex with several independent store fronts, which is what the Da Tong Mall is, and a Mill is somewhere they make paper. On our return trip, however, it became evident that they're officially and inexplicably going with "Da Tong Mill", which doesn't make a lot of sense to me.
I offer this solution: from here on in we're referring to it as the "Da Tong M$ll". Problem solved.
We wrote a thing on the Da Tong Bar M$ll
a few months back which scored us sweet clicks and mad linkage from the International Sex Guide forums. Incidentally, if you've never surfed into the International Sex Guide forums, don't, because it's kind of like repeatedly punching your soul in the face. Anyways, the International Sex Guide forums were abuzz about that article because it contained the awesome news that the Da Tong Bar M$ll was going to be the new location of the recently closed Tongren Lu bars, which, if you're new to Shanghai, was were you used to go if you had no compunctions about "paying for it."
You know, "paying for it"... Paying for sex... Paying for sex with a hooker... Haggling and exchanging money for sexual services from a lady, engaged in the profession of prostitution.
And yes indeed, several of your favorite Tongren Lu bars have moved shop into Da Tong, along with a few restaurants, cafes, nail salons, some psycho club called Bobolia
, which, as legend tells it, makes Babyface look like Element Fresh
, and this place called D10 Ultra Lounge, which is basically and airplane-themed, blinged-out hip hop club. They're wrestling with a lot of concepts down there.
Staking a manically bold claim on being the "longest themed ultra lounge in the world", The D10 Ultra Lounge
is a club/lounge built into the shape of the body of an airplane. If I recall correctly, they're calling it one third the size of a real commercial airliner. As you can image, everything is airplane-themed -- waitresses are stewardesses, coat check is in the overhead compartments, the bathrooms are airplane bathrooms, and oh fuck yes, the DJ booth is the cockpit. They're three table seating "classes" -- Economy Class (dancefloor / bar stools), Business Class (couch seating), and First Class (VIP models and bottles section). Music is hip hop / mashup (Friday and Saturday are hip hop nights), drink specials are frequent, and they're planning special events like salsa nights and things. It's a touch on the expensive side: cheapest beers start at 45rmb, cocktails are 55rmb-70rmb.
But yeah it's an airplane. So like... you're paying for that. Um. What else. It's purple. Really purple. The "stewardesses" are giggly. Management is very nice. What else can I say? It's an airplane, man. It's an airplane.
I like it.
All the best, airplane bar! Fuck it! Cheers!
But *here's* an interesting thing to consider: if you make sweet, sweet love to someone in the bathroom of this place, do you join the "Mile High" Club or "The About 10 Feet Below Ground Level" Club?
Riddle me that! Tree falling in the woods, kind of thing, maybe.
Getting there: D10 Ultra Lounge
is in the area of the Da Tong M$ll with the big open courtyard, on the right hand side when facing north. It's right in the middle on that right side down a corridor thing. You have to get past all the "talking bars", with their harpies hanging out the doors, calling you to come inside and have a drink with them. Ignore the harpies -- they are sirens calling sailors to their doom, beguiling them with song so they might smash their ships on the rocks.
They feast on man-flesh!