Natalia Cuevas | April 23, 2018
I walked out of my final dress rehearsal last week to my usual routine. I plugged in my headphones, double checked Google Maps for train delays, and texted my fiancé that I was on my way home. As A Tribe Called Quest started playing and I did my usual walk-dance to the subway stop, my phone dinged. It was a group text between me and my Notre Dame girlfriends, and all it said was:
“Feve is closing in a week :(”
I froze. A South Bend Tribune link confirmed the news. Club Fever — Feve, the South Bend institution, pillar of Notre Dame party culture, and my Thursday night haven — was closing on April 12. And suddenly, all I could think of was one particular night.
Take a quick trip with me.
It is October 31, 2013. It is 6 PM. I’m elbow deep in heavy stage makeup and a floral arrangement and debating multiple options for an evening gown. It is Halloween of my senior year, and, as luck would have it, it falls on a Thursday. Anyone who has attended Notre Dame within the past twelve years knows that Thursday nights can only mean one thing — Fever — and Halloween on a Thursday can only mean one other thing — Feverween. Going all out wasn’t expected. It was required.
For those of you who never experienced the glory of Club Fever, picture if you will: a giant, slightly refurbished old warehouse. Multiple split levels, a seedy (at one point carpeted) basement, two separate entrances (three if you knew the right bartender), and plenty of dark staircases. Sexy, right? It opened in 2005, replacing the country music dance hall Heartland. The Heartland sign was never taken down, adding to the mystique of the 38,000-square-foot building.