I don’t go to dance clubs in Portland. Usually they are meat markets with horrible music and even lousier patrons. Ohm is different. I’m sure that for some, Ohm is a meat market and there are probably lousy patrons. However, Ohm is a vacation from the plethora of crappy downtown bars.

The interior of Ohm is cutting edge for Portland. It’s simple, modern and tasteful. There’s room for a band and a DJ. The dance floor isn’t large, but it’s adequate. During the summer, you can go out in the back and take a breather from the smoky atmosphere.

Perhaps the best thing about Ohm is the music. They don’t play Top 40 pop crap and they don’t play mainstream rap (which, in my opinion is terrible – all the best rap never gets radio play). Ohm regularly spins a wide variety of electronic music. They will also occasionally have rap shows by more progressive rap artists.

Pub Crawl night was a different story. By the time we went to Ohm, I was so drunk I could barely stand. I have no recollection of getting into the bar. I remember gratefully seeking out the huge red velvet couch so I could collect my wits and figure out where I could get water.

Only later, after reading the Mercury, did I realize I spent seven dollars for a cover. Then, I was forced to pay a dollar every time I wanted water. This to me, amounts to extortion. Glasses of water should be offered to drunk people free of charge, for safety’s sake.

At any rate, the water was cold, but expensive, but the music was awful. I kept waiting to hear some good breakbeats or perhaps Dahlia would be playing, but no such luck. Instead, I was treated to what sounded like a hippie drum circle. The pounding just went on and on. No one was dancing. Then I realized the club was nearly empty. This was not the Ohm I knew!

The Purple Nipple my friend Erica was sipping was perfect. Ohm does have the best bartenders in town. They are nice and nonthreateningly pretty and pour one hell of a stiff drink. Too bad the prices aren’t as good as the pours. Also, as Erica pointed out, the bathrooms have locks and toilet paper, which is a rare thing in downtown clubs.

The other bad thing about Ohm that night, was that I realized what a horrible location it’s in. We had to walk all the way to Berbati’s Pan to find a cab, and that was only after walking under the Burnside Bridge. I don’t think anyone would argue with me when I say it’s not exactly the safest area. Good thing I don’t really remember the walk to Berbati’s.

Ohm didn’t let my friends in because one of them was a bit too drunk. Okay, I’m lying. He was assing out. To their credit, they were promoting responsible behavior (though charging money for water sort of cancels out their good Samaritan-ship). We met up with them in front of Shanghai Tunnel and caught a cab.

I spent well over $60 that night. Erica owes me for the cab, but I’ll never see that $15 again. That’s okay. We sang an old SWV song with the cab driver and I hope I gave him a good tip. I can’t remember.

The evening was good and I wish I could have stayed and played on Saturday, but I was too busy vomiting my Jell-o shots from Scooter’s at 4:30 that afternoon. Such is the life of a hard-working journalist.