Dodging all-too-real thrown beer cans on Fifth Street, clawing into Les Bains for the "Spider's Web" party, a rough sea-of-artifice dance floor. Occupying the fringes of Thomas Kramer's table despite rampant Euro-hostility, Halloween making strange bedfellows of us all. Yet another club contretemps escalating steadily, our party dismissed from Kramer's champagne-littered table by a waitress, Katz having politely slid away when Fall-of-the-Weimar Republic felt her up in a decidedly unspiritual manner. Out to the street, a veiled woman with an elaborate twinkling headdress waving a wand over the damned: "I have come to this place, where the wicked go unpunished, to capture all the dreams that have been lost. Without dreams, this evil land is beyond the power of mortals.