The club's unobtrusive entrance, in Disneyland's New Orleans Square, is a green door that stays locked. There are no signs pointing the way, only a placard with the address: 33.
Most Disneyland guests don't know Club 33 exists, or write it off as another Disney urban legend.
It's not in the phone book and doesn't appear on any Disneyland map.
But it is real, and so is the address -- 33 Royal St. -- even if it is located somewhere between Adventureland and Critter Country.
Although one popular myth has it that 33 is the number of initial Disneyland investors, Club 33 got its name from the address, which was required in order to obtain a liquor license from Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control.
(It remains the only place at Disneyland to serve alcohol.)
"It's the secrecy of it," said Anaheim resident Dale Mattson, who has been on the waiting list for a year. "It really has the reputation and aura of being a Prohibition speak-easy. I think that's what appeals to people."
Designed by Walt Disney, but opened in 1967 after his death, the club was conceived as his private dining room where he could entertain investors and business associates.
Membership is capped at 450. Advancement on the waiting list happens only when members resign or die. Club manager Jeff Plumb swears there's no pass that jumps celebrities to the front of the line.
"We treat a celebrity like our other guests, and we treat our guests like a VIP," says maitre d' Russell Trahan.
Initiation fees -- depending on the corporate or individual membership levels -- are about $10,000.
Then there are the annual dues: Disney officials will say only that those run "in the thousands," but members say the annual cost is about $3,000 to $6,000, depending on membership type.
There's also a $45 minimum for every meal. Nonmembers can get in, but they have to make reservations through a club member.
Dues buy access to both Disneyland and Club 33, where meals feature such dishes as pancetta-wrapped halibut on manila clam linguine and porcini mushroom spinach and fontina ravioli.
The food is prepared by executive chef Marcel St. Pierre, who was trained at the Culinary Institute of America, and is offered with wine pairings selected by three sommeliers from the club's extensive cellar.
At one time the club offered its own private-label wine. It was discontinued, but Plumb said they hope to bring it back.
The food is great, but that's not why member Kerry Rutkin, 50, of Huntington Beach said he loves Club 33.
"Where do I start?" gushed Rutkin, an eight-year member who waited about three years to join. "I love the whole thing. I like the exclusivity of it. I love calling up and talking to the people who make the reservations. I love the atmosphere, the privacy, the peacefulness. It's like you're not in Disneyland anymore."
One of the most fun aspects, Rutkin said, is getting through the door. Members are buzzed in, but only after their names are double-checked.
"When there's a giant line for Blue Bayou [a nearby restaurant], people are dumbfounded," Rutkin said. "People grab you and say, 'Can you get me in there?' A lot of people are dumbstruck that the door actually opens."
The few who pass through the doors enter a place decidedly un-Disney. Sure, there are a few Disney touches -- Mickey-shaped pasta and Mickey-shaped chocolates on the cheesecake.
But the elegant decor is more reminiscent of "Gone With the Wind" than Cinderella's castle.
Once inside, an elevator -- modeled after one Walt Disney admired at a Paris inn during the filming of "Bon Voyage!" -- transports diners to the second floor.
There's an oak telephone booth from "The Happiest Millionaire" and a French-antique-style table, carved from a tree stump, that Disney's wife bought while in New Orleans.
Servers like to point out the microphones in the chandeliers of the smaller Trophy Room (capacity 33 diners), where Disney once hoped to film people during their meals so their interactions could be played back later as entertainment.
He also planned to intersperse commentary from the animal likenesses mounted on the walls.
Members might glimpse a celebrity. Elton John has been known to frequent Club 33 (officials won't say whether he's a member or a guest) and play the antique harpsichord.
And, at the right time, you might spot fireworks through the window or hear a saxophonist making his way through New Orleans Square.
Angela Gabour, who has worked at Club 33 for 28 years, likes to tell of the time Prince Rainier of Monaco visited. The maitre d', to the horror of the service staff, dropped a cup of coffee, spilling it over the prince's white patent leather shoes.
Rainier handled the situation with aplomb. "But sir, I did not order coffee," he said.
Plumb said the club has by-laws, though he prefers not to call them rules.
It is possible to have a membership yanked, but a member would have to do something "very, very, very bad." Disneyland frowns upon people profiting from their membership.
Reservations and exclusive Club 33 merchandise, available only at the restaurant the day of a visit, should not be auctioned online, according to the bylaws.
Plumb said he once bid on an eBay item in an attempt to determine the seller's identity, and Disney officials have been known to send letters requesting that items not be sold.
Few people, though, want to risk their prized membership because they know there are dozens of Club 33 fans biding their time.
"It's a little pricey," said Mattson, the nonmember. "But it's worth every penny."
At least that's what he hopes. He's still got three (he hopes) years to wait.