A Guide to Going Out in St. Louis: Female Edition

Ah. So you want to go out in, I think it sounds lovelier in Spanish, the “most violentè Ciudad in America.” Perhaps your dad paid a proctor $50,000 dollars to inflate your ACT scores and you got into WashU. Maybe your employment at a canine food company brought you here. Perhaps you tried to make it to the West and your car ran out of gas and you thought, eh, might as well just stay here. Alas, it’s the freakin weekend. Use this helpful guide to determine the best venue in all of St. Louis to black out and throw up in the adjacent grass. 

  1. Downtown:

St.Louis’s booming metropolis includes buildings that go all the way up to almost 9 stories! You might even get to ride in an actual elevator if you get lucky. But probably not. Once your 57-year-old uber driver has asked for all of your friend’s numbers, he will drop you off at the ambiguous location you called the car to. Bask in the glory of having the whole city as your playground and head to your first club. You might have to walk around a bit, so hopefully it won’t be cold, but it probably will be cold. 

When you go out downtown, you will need to purchase a ticket ahead of time, usually running around $15. No, this money does not go to the actual bar venues. No, this money does in no way cover drinks. Your money goes towards a group of WashU frat brothers who have brilliantly manipulated the system and will stand at the door of the bar like a bouncer despite them being 120 pounds each and tell you you cannot get in unless you hand them a 20. It may be confusing to pay them for doing absolutely nothing. But I think of it kind of like charity. These boys often don’t even have enough money to buy a second BMW. 


  • Marquee Bar and Grill


Do you hate peeing? Have you never had to use the bathroom in your entire life, especially after a few hours of heavy drinking? Then head to Marquee, where there is no chance you will be able to pee unless you go outside. If you like public urination on your permanent record.


  • Dos Salas


Do you hate your fucking friends? Do you want to ditch them because they are losers? You should go to Dos Salas because you won’t be able to find them the second you get there. 


  • Just John’s


What I love about Just John’s is their very sophisticated and high-brow aura of mystery. With its electric atmosphere, the club draws in hundreds of members from the St.Louis LGBTQ+ community every weekend. They always have some fun surprises planned that you won’t know until you get there, like a drag performer, free merch, or the time when there was a bomb threat and the place remained open that night and didn’t tell customers. 


  • PBR


WashU’s a pretty liberal place with students from all backgrounds committed to positive change. The progressive student body has taught me so much and allowed me to explore current global issues. And I’ve realized, we like, live in a society. Ugh 🙁

And while I appreciate this atmosphere, I find it is critical to balance this with other cultural viewpoints, which is why I love heading to PBR in my pushup bra and cowboy boots. Decorated with as many Blue Lives Matter flags as you could ever want, it really is the perfect place to get a break from all that WashU liberal craziness. Especially because WashU boys are way too respectful. I want to be objectified every now and then by a 45-year-old metal belt-wearing conservative grandpa. And if that’s a crime, well lock me up and have an officer slap my ass on the way out.

If this doesn’t convince you, remember that your uber to downtown and back will only cost you $126. St. Louis is a tough place to show your friends how much money your dad has. The restaurants aren’t even that expensive. To achieve this goal, offering to pay for the uber is a really great way to show how many employees your dad has exploited. Also, if you offer to pay for the Ubers, you can Venmo request your friends. They will then pay you out of their own checking accounts, and you will keep the money, even though your Uber account is tied to your parent’s cards. This way, you are actually profiting from using your parent’s MasterCard. I picked up this lesson in my freshman-year business class. 

  1. Your Friend’s Apartment 

Going out at Your Friend’s Apartment is like high school all over again, except with no sleeping parents upstairs. Instead, it’s someone from your econ class who lives upstairs texting you guys to keep it down because he has an exam tomorrow. To feel like you’re a senior in high school again, someone at the party might even get carried away to get their stomach pumped. 

Instead of being examined by the real-life EMT, your drunk friend will have the privilege of being poked and prodded by a member of WashU’s EST. EST is like EMT but better and safer because it is composed of students from your school. If your drunk friend does get EST’d (getting eee esss teeeed is WashU speak for being so fucked up you have to be tended to by pre-med students), they will probably be assisted by some girl who was on her phone all of training, and has no idea what to do. She’ll stand there on her phone being like “I think this person is likeeeee, okayy.”

Before you leave your house to go to Your Friend’s Apartment, make sure you bring chapstick, because it would suck if you got there and they didn’t have any, definitely bring your own hard alcohol because they will probably only have beer, and also probably a gun for your walk there.  Or if not a gun, at least industrial-grade pepper spray, and a handheld alarm. Your mom heard about all of the crime near WashU and wants to know the best place to buy such gear. Tell her Amazon, Bloomingdales Home, or the DUC.

  1. Frat Row 

Something I love about WashU is how the on-campus social scene is run entirely by circumcised 20-year-old boys whose only humor is using the word gay to describe their friend’s shenanigans. Every weekend, the 8 school-sanctioned fraternities (or maybe 6 or 7 depending on who’s on probation that week) will host a sweaty dance mob in their basement. If you give a shit about your social standing, you will absolutely attend. 

Getting In

I’m honestly not humbled enough here. As someone whose grades and ACT scores were below the cutoff and who only got in because my grandpa paid 7 trillion dollars to refurbish the fireplace in the DUC in 1874, you’d think I’d feel humbled in my classes and whatnot. But I don’t! 

Everyone needs to be humbled now and again. To achieve this fix, I head to frat row on the weekends, to stand in ripped jeans and a crop top in 1-degree weather as a freshman boy has to look up my name in the system to ensure I am relevant enough to be invited to their basement. Everyone needs to be knocked down a peg or four every now and then. 

The Themes 

The best part about any frat party is dressing for the theme. During the week, the social board works tirelessly to create a theme for this weekend’s party. The themes are witty, intelligently crafted word-plays that are always exciting to dress up for, like 

  1. Hawaiian 
  2. Groovy ‘70s
  3. USA
  4. Bikinis and Aliens 
  5. Bikinis and Cowboys 
  6. Bikinis and Jews
  7. Sluts and Bar Mitzvahs 
  8. Sluts and their Tennis Coaches
  9. Boobs
  10. Sluts

The Ambiance

I’m pretty sure the WashU gym has a sauna and a steam room, not that I’ve ever used it because I would never step foot in the gym. But I’ve heard rumors. Even if I wanted to use the steam and sauna, I would assume the gym isn’t open all night. That’s why I love frat row on a Saturday night. As you descend the staircase and enter the basement, your body temperature will immediately increase to 130 Fahrenheit. It’s the oppressive unbearable heat of a sauna with the wetness of a steam room. And what’s awesome is that wetness isn’t coming from that clean misty water of a typical steam room. No. This particular wetness is the perspiration of the top 100 worst people at your school. 

Frat row is also a good way to spot anyone Jewish because their hair will expand into a religious frizz 3-5 minutes after entering the basement. 

With all of this in mind, enjoy your weekend. After all, this is the city that never sleeps. Or that sleeps with one eye open and its hands around a pepper spray.