Way Out Club has been on the 'scene' for quite some time, 30 years in fact. I was keen to go as it doesn't have seedy sex rooms and porn blaring out. However, it never seemed to get many reviews, so I was dubious about going. Having missed out on She World's 7th Birthday earlier in the year which was well attended, I figured Way Out's 30th would be equally well attended. So into the diary, it went.

Roll on to the 18th Dec, and I'd had lots of TVs and Admirers say they'd meet me in town beforehand and meet at the venue. Always nice to have company and someone new to get to know. However, all but one turned out to have an excuse. Hey ho. I had the house to myself for the day, so took my time soaking, shaving, choosing what to wear, painting nails, and eventually putting Ophelia's face on.

Way Out Club is in Limehouse for its current home, it has moved about quite a bit over the years. I drove to a station on the Northern Line thinking it was a good move for getting back late at night. I got off at Bank and happily wandered over to the DLR. "Oh!" It was shut! As I was reading how to get to DLR stations, I heard a rather... unique feminine voice. "Hiiiiii, are you going to the Way Out Club?" "Erm, yes. How did you notice I was a Tgirl?!" My feeble thoughts of being passable were shattered. Sad face emoji.

Neeha was dressed to party, complete with 1" heels which she said were killing her. We walked, slowly, over to another line to get to Tower Gateway for the replacement bus. I was conscious of being 'not passable' with a Tgirl ready to party. A replacement bus turned up, and I had to ask the bus driver if it was going to Limehouse...in my male voice. The first time I'd really done it. The driver didn't bat an eyelid, and just said that it was. On board I found out that Neeha has Pakistani heritage and has been out out for 9 years.

After the driver got lost, we finally ended up at Limehouse and crossed the road to the White Horse Pub, the current venue of the Way Out Club. Lovingly on Google Maps it's listed as a Gay Bar. Nice! I guess LGTBQ+ Bar doesn't have the same ring to it. I thought there'd be an ID check, but there wasn't. I checked in a bag with my trainers in and swapped to heels. After paying the reduced rate of £5, and scribbling my signature on a sheet, I was in.

As I walked in, I was in a mixture of shock and awe. A semi-circle of seats greeted me, with a pole dancing stage in front of them. Behind the semi-circle of seats was a bar. On the far side a raised area with the DJ. I was mostly taken aback by the large number of men, something I wasn't expecting. At the bar was a man who had dwarfism. I'm not sure of the PC term here, so apologies if I offend. As I walked around, I felt like most of the clientele weren't much taller than the chap with dwarfism. Most of the men were barely 5'8" at most, and quite a number of the Trans women were short. I towered over most of the bar, making me feel somewhat self-conscious. The place was really busy, giving it a good vibe.

*usual apologies for photo quality, and i've blurred any obvious faces for privacy*

I tried to remain Lady-like, avoided ordering a pint, and asked for a bottle instead. The barman showed me the beer bottle for approval and then poured it into a pint glass. D'oh! I leant against one of the upright fittings, and carefully scanned the main pub room, for anyone I might know. A pleasant American chap in a soft blue suit started a conversation with me. He was from Yorba Linda, California. Which oddly enough, I'd actually been too. It's the last resting place of Richard M Nixon, 37th President of the USA and someone I studied at University. He said most Tgirls here are either looking for dates or looking for money (ie Escorts). I was shocked, although I felt I could tell the Tgirls that were likely to fit into the escort category. I had been warned off of Way Out by a friend online who said they'd got into a row with Thai Prostitutes here. I thought it far-fetched, until now.

I went off to find the chill-out room. I couldn't see where it would be. I asked at the front desk, and they said 'through the door marked Staff Only.' Oh! No wonder. I pushed through the oddly labelled door and found myself beside a bar and a seating area opposite it and in front. Beyond that was a screen with a film playing all about the Way Out Club's impressive 30-year history, and that of Vicky Lee, the patron. Or is that matron, not sure? I was impressed by the sanctuary it had given those in the Trans community over the years. I ordered another bottle of beer, and again received it in a plastic cup. Not sure if it was BPA free. Hmmm! I watched to the end of the film and joined in with the hearty applause.

The far end of the bar and film in progress. And for those in need, the Escape Exit!!

My exploring instinct led me to the back of the chill-out room, and a wide set of stairs that went down. I descended, almost missing a step on the turn to the second flight. Awkward! I was now in the basement dance floor, and it was awesome! The tunes were proper bangin', as the OAPs say. New Order, Underworld and Darude's Sandstorm got me quickly into the mix of dancers. I tried to dance proper ladylike, but there weren't many examples to copy here.

After a good while dancing, I sauntered upstairs to get some water. I passed through the chill-out room, keen to find a seat, however, there were few options. Some of the gentlemen who had been in trouble with the ugly fairy had grabbed a seat that would mean if I sat near them, I'd have to converse or worse. I ploughed on on my slowly burning feet and saw a TGirl I'd chatted to loads online, Bluebell. I said Hi and found myself quickly chatting to her friend Tamara. Tamara started off by saying how many TVs there were that were in their 40s and 50s in a negative tone. I pointed out that I fell into that bracket. Tamara uttered 'F**K off, you're not?!' I liked Tamara! We talked about the usual, other clubs and experiences.

The raised DJ area, and resident 'Bez,' or in-house dancer on the podium. They described themselves as an inbetweenie, and seemed to dance most of the night around the dance pole podium in an hypnotic state.

Something odd happened next, something I wasn't expecting. Two clearly cis-gendered women started talking to me, well, mainly a brunette woman in her 30s. She asked me about my wig and how lovely my outfit was etc. I realised I was being flirted with by a cis woman, who was quite attractive. This was very odd, had my drink been spiked?! Was I about to descend down the wormhole or into a Hunter S Thompson dystopian nightmare? Apparently, they liked men who appreciated feminity and looked gorgeous. Blimey!

Various people hopped up onto the pole dance podium to give thanks to Vicky Lee and the club to celebrate 30years, some of whom had been coming since day one. Bez or maybe 'Bezia' still dancing! The lady in orange dress was belting out a Drag classic, probably "I will survive" or something.

As I wandered about, I would see lovely Neehar, and they either waved or asked if I was ok as we passed now and again. Social whirl that Neehar is. 

On the dancefloor, I was approached by the blue-suited American chap, who despite appearing to have some black heritage, had no instinct to dance. It was hard to hear on the dancefloor, so I tried to avoid conversation. I hate shouting into people's ears and vice-versa. There should be little whiteboards handed out in clubs, so people can converse easily. God, I'm old!

It was well past 2 am, and I started to think about getting back to Tooting where I'd left my car. Stupid District Line not on the Night Tube. I said my goodbyes to those I'd chatted and danced with. Retrieved my bag with trainers in, and took off my low-heeled shoes. I didn't want the night to end, so instead of walking 15 minutes to Shadwell, I walked half an hour to Bethnal Green. It's so nice to be out and walking about in female finery. The tubes all seemed to be 8-10mins as I changed at Tottenham Court Rd for the Northern Line. My car lay as I left it, and I was glad to flip the heater on and a warm draft shot up my skirt! Women have it so lucky!

Finally home, around 4am. I was exhausted, and still had half an hour of taking off all the make-up.

On reflection, especially after watching the film, I felt a little like I'd intruded, as it was a club for those of a Trans nature, which I'm not. Also, the club was just so diverse, almost every type of person was there, black, white, Asian, Latino, Gay, straight, Bi, Trans, Cis Female, male, and even a person with dwarfism. No physically disabled people that I could see though. I loved that aspect of the place, it was so inclusive as Vicky Lee has said. I did feel like I belonged there, and I did enjoy myself. Mainly because I like a dance and a natter, and had both. It was also bustling and busy with lots of nice folk. Would I go back? Yes. Probably when the DLR is working again though!

Feel free to comment below with notes on how your thoughts, experiences and so forth. No need for real names and fake email addresses are expected!