Fiction Club (formerly Park Lane) is sandwiched between Grace O'Malley's and Tequila Jack's. The three lines of people that snake from those respective venues are indistinguishable from one another, and if it wasn't for Fiction's logo by the front, I wouldn't have been able to tell. The intertwined 'FC' looks vaguely fashion-y; there's no doubting this venue's aspiration to class. Left and right people are on their cell phones, barking instructions, impatient to get in. Try as they might, there's little nonchalance guising people's excitement about this place.

And why not be excited? Fiction is 9,000+ square feet of superclub, awash in neon and strobe, pulsating with music, drenched in glitter. If you're not already familiar with the nightlife this place could very well be the wonderland to your Alice; it doesn't so much tickle your senses as assault them. However, to the seasoned clubgoer, Fiction will likely be an alternative rather than the destination. There's little that truly sets it apart from the other venues available in the King West neighbourhood--not its size, its music, nor the wooden horse in the corner (The Fifth's elephant does it better). It is hotter than the average place, though only in the literal sense. No amount of exposed skin will save you from sweating.

There are 20 VIP tables, though those areas are all so packed that it defeats the purpose. If you're tired of feeling like a sweat-soaked sardine upstairs, the lower floor makes for a cool refuge. There you'll find an additional dance floor, bordered with hallways that lead to the two bathroom areas. The maze-like hallways and the paintings that adorn them makes it feel like wandering through an eccentric relative's abode. There's also a smoking section, which is preferable to getting your nicotine fix by the crowded entrance.

Its lack of novelty aside, Fiction is undeniably fun. If you're getting over a brutal breakup, I could not recommend a better place. The unabashed sleaze of King Street suits combined with the Ryerson co-eds tired of banging the same old people at their dorms makes for a scene that would entertain anyone, from the brokenhearted to the merely bored. Clubs in this neighbourhood have a notoriously short shelf-life, and I'm not convinced that Fiction has any reason to outlast its competitors. But if you're looking for shits and giggles, it's not the worst way to spend your Saturday night. Just be armed with patience and a sense of humour.