Dance Cave

Dance like nobody’s watching

For Annex locals, too lazy to get on a streetcar and too broke to get a cab, Dance Cave is the reliable, logical choice for sweaty dancing. An unlikely mix of hipsters, underaged kids, grad students, music nerds, and frat boys rock out here to the equivalent of comfort food in tunes: the Strokes, the Stones, OutKast, Pulp and New Order. No pretension, just quality times. There’s always an eccentric or three to keep things appealingly wacky. I particularly enjoy the guy who wears flannel pyjamas and the dude who does ballet moves in skinny jeans. If you lived in the Annex while at university, this is probably the site of many of your life milestones. Heck, in the bathrooms alone you’ve probably puked, fooled around, experimented with illegal substances and comforted a crying stranger. U of T alumnae are entitled to return for nostalgic, alcohol-infused, dancing bliss. But if you’re over thirty and at the Dance Cave, you’re probably a creep trying to bed naive freshmen.