Representatives from Whitman Walker, a D.C.-based health center specializing in LGBTQ health, were conducting optional HIV screenings. The entrance and large entertainment room has lockers, chairs and a television. With the locker rental – where I could leave my clothes after I disrobed – and a one-time membership, my total was $18 because Tuesdays are half off.Īfterwards, I was handed a towel and gained access to the first floor, which has a tanning room and gym. On display were typical items you’d expect for sale, like the appropriately titled “ultra douche,” and poppers, a drug that can make you feel heady and relaxes your muscles during sex. There’s no more information given by the employees, but you catch on quickly. They value anonymity here, so to pay, you go into another small room with a different employee. through the small window to prove he was at least 18 years old. Upon entering the building, there is a tiny lobby housing only a shut door, a circle porthole and one mustached man in line, who gave me a cursory look after slipping his I.D. I arrived at about 7 p.m., just as the workday was closing out and bathhouse patrons were coming in.
The frosted windows allow for discretion alongside real estate offices and cocktail bars. NW, Crew Club blends in with the commerce almost too inconspicuously for all the testosterone ready to flood out of the building. and a return to the sex-positive aspects of the gay community. To older gay residents, the bathhouse may be a reminder of the life left behind in a post-AIDS crisis D.C. Instead of scrolling through faceless photos on Grindr to find a hook-up, some gays opt for a steamy night out at D.C.’s scintillating bathhouse.Ī rite of passage for GW gays, or at the very least a seedy pipe dream circulated through the gay grapevine, Crew Club is D.C.’s only gay bathhouse and sauna.