The Warehouse was aptly named-unassuming and industrial with nothing to give away what hid inside. Just a crisp sign with bold font stood out front without a soul in sight. The club didn't open for another hour, but I wanted to find the place while we still had a bit of daylight. I figured we could kill time with dinner in the North Davidson Art District, better known as NODA. Everything about the area was art from tattoos to galleries to food. The fish tacos alone were worth the ninety-minute drive.
With a full belly but no alcohol-the club restricted it-we found ourselves in the lobby of a busy club. And while the outside was nondescript, the inside was sensational-an artist's dream and an architect's fantasy. The designer had carried the industrial vibe throughout but done it with cla
