When You're Not Looking

After a long and strangely emotional week, Saturday being the worst, I went out with some co-workers to our usual spot for some drinks and some major unwinding. Problem was I carried over the stupid social paranoia from the workday, into my evening. Then again after having an emotional meltdown in front of people you work with, I think it seems natural that I ended up wondering if the people I was now drinking with were still pondering what a loser I was.
All of that aside it ended up being a good night full of laughs. That’s what I love about the people I work with and I’m glad that they’re not women. Men and their short-term memories mean they don’t hold grudges. If they do remember then they give you shit about it, but it’s nothing personal. It’s another reason to laugh at the situation and your self in retrospect. Being able to laugh at your self is seriously important. People without this skill will die of a heart attack or any other stress related problem at the age of thirty. I don’t plan on being that person, although I have no trouble admitting it’s damn hard.
After a healthy buzz I headed out to the club to see what sort of trouble I could stir up. I was in a standoffish mood yet I was sincerely lonely. Walking into my favorite Saturday spot, I really expected just to dance the night away like I had earlier that week, and go home alone with nothing really to speak of when it came to meeting someone. I was still working on my idea that nothing happens when you’re looking. Love is famous for broadsiding a person; it gets you when you least expect it. Like with the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus I wasn’t going to get anywhere by standing guard, I had to go on with my life and stop trying so hard.
The club was busy when I walked in which was definitely encouraging since it was early yet. After taking a walk through the main floor I headed downstairs to check my coat and see my bartender friend. I needed a hot guy to be happy to see me for just a moment. Unfortunately Shannon wasn’t there, but another friend from Tacoma, Max, was behind the bar. Now Max is hot as well, but he’s never been that happy to see me. I wanted a self-esteem boost not toleration. Moving to the edge of an already jumping hip hop scene I watched wondering if I should go back upstairs where it was empty or stay put. Then I remembered that every man I’ve met at this club was downstairs, with the exception of one; and that hadn’t gone well anyway.
Squeezing my way to a spot on the floor I started to dance and just ignore the crowd. It was another night of hot guys with girlfriends, and creepy looking guys on the prowl. If I ignored everyone I figured I’d be fine. I remember thinking that the guy that was dancing nearby was really tall and that he had at least given me an appreciative look. I really didn’t feel like I was dressed to kill nor was I feeling very sexy as it was. Someone thought I looked pretty good so I started to relax. I was here to have fun not glare around the room with a chip on my shoulder.
As I continued to dance the tall guy moved more and more my way. I starting to struggle with the idea that he might actually want to dance with me and I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet someone. Here I was over analyzing the whole situation of a doomed relationship and the guy was just dancing next to me, nothing more. Shaking it off with my usual brand of pessimism I noticed a very cute girl nearby and figured I was being vain and not the object of his attention anyway.
For some reason this made me feel better. When I usually want to live out load and be noticed whenever possible, lately I was taking refuge in my before hated invisibility. I could dance and watch other people, without anyone noticing me. Yet this guy kept grabbing my attention. He was very good looking and white, which had been my streak as of late but not my usual cup of tea. Among my friends I’m well known for my tastes in “brown boys”. He was also tall and broad shouldered which was something I really missed. Since my first boyfriend, everyone I had dated after that had been either my height or shorter, making me feel like an Amazon Woman and making it tough to dance. All of that aside I was still determined that I was going to be alone tonight. That determination got thrown out the window as that tentative moment came when I, being entirely dense as I can be, realized that he is trying to dance with me.
Even as I sit back and think about the night, I know that there was this hazy moment when I continued to struggle with the idea of meeting someone that night. Yet something deep inside told me to let go and see what could happen. On the shallow surface he made all the marks. He was well dressed, good looking, danced like he loved it, and was treating me with a brand of respect. He wasn’t just all up on me; he kept his distance and yet showed interest. So slowly I let him in. From that moment on, I remember thinking that the usual feeling of caution or wariness was completely absent. There was just something about him that seemed open and honestly interesting. After a couple songs he introduced himself as Dominick. I hate trying to pronounce my name on the dance floor. It’s a simple name, four letters long, plain and ordinary but has letters that can sound a million different ways. I usually ended up spelling it out for the guy, so that he doesn’t end up calling me by some less than flattering alternative. Maybe Jimmy had it figured out by just calling me “B” and stopping at that.
While dancing I happened to look over and came face to face with Ben, a co-worker and good friend of mine. Prior to turning twenty-one he and I had made a deal, I would go flying for the first time with Ben when he got his pilots license if he would go clubbing for the first time with me. He’s the type of guy that would rather sit around someone’s living room and drink. The next step up would be a bar, but never a club and certainly no dancing at any point. I ended up taking Ben and his friend Alex with me to this very club and they had ended up having an awesome time, to include dancing. I remember them both being drunk as I was driving them home and having them both say, “That was fun! Can we go again next weekend?” I was really proud that I had not only helped them find the fun in dancing and going to clubs, but Ben had returned to this club and brought his girlfriend Kelly.
We talked for a second and Ben kept eyeing the guy I was dancing with, in that big brother protective sort of way. Dominick on the other hand was wondering whom it was I was talking to. There’s always that moment when the guy your dancing with isn’t sure if you’re just tolerating him and will walk off at any second. Any guy you talk to in the mean time could turn out to be a boyfriend or some other sort of confrontation. Ladies take my advice; watch your interactions with the opposite sex if you are truly interested in the one you’re dancing with. Guys are pessimistic by nature and it takes little to scare one off. I was too excited at the time that Ben had returned to this club on his own, that I had to turn and share the story of who he was and why I thought it was so cool. I also made sure to mention that I was so happy Ben had brought his girlfriend. After that Dominick and I ended up heading to the bar for a drink. I was getting tired and really hot. He was a great dancer and giving me a run for my money.
While at the bar it seemed impossibly loud and I ended up heading for Max, knowing that he would easily guess what I wanted to drink. We talked for a moment and shook hands. Just looking at Max makes me miss the old days down in Tacoma. If I had had this blog then, man the stories I could have told. Then again I might just post some of the best ones. Stay tuned. Anyway, after the drink we talked for a moment. The more time I spent with the guy the more I was starting to like him. He was having a great time, and I knew that if I walked away at any point he would just go right back out on the dance floor and keep dancing. He was out to have fun that night and I really liked that about him.
Back on the dance floor, I looked up again and saw a girl I use to know. She was a cocktail waitress from the same club that Shannon worked at in Tacoma. I had spent a lot of time at that club after Shannon had left mostly because I was dating, or trying to, one of the other bartenders. Many a late night I had spent with the waitresses and bartenders getting steak and eggs at four in the morning. I can’t remember her name now for the life of me but we recognized each other right off and did that silly girl hug thing. Dominick leaned forward to laugh about the fact that I seemed to know everyone. It was just a little Rock Star moment but one none the less.
As the night went on, I had a blast dancing with Dominick. The basement was still packing in and I was just overheated and tired of being bumped into downstairs. At his suggestion we went up for some air on the main floor. That’s when I sort of got caught up. Even though I was tired the music caught my attention and renewed my energy. DJ Hyperfunk was spinning some awesome House and the dance floor was full but not jam-packed. I didn’t think that Dominick was into House music, so I didn’t know if he’d be willing to stay up there and dance. He surprised me again, and we danced up there for a while. Ben and Kelly went by and let me know they were going to check out one of the other clubs near by. They ended up just coming back.
I noticed that Kelly had jumped up on the stage and I was really surprised how she turned out to be a good dancer. I turned to point her out to Dominick and he pushed me forward, telling me to, “Go get her.” I ended up jumping up on stage next to Kelly and even up onto the platforms to do my thing. Dominick got me a drink and watched with his friends from a table. This is a moment when I’m afraid that the guy will think that I’ve left him, and won’t come back. Dancing up on that platform is just a momentary bit of fun and when I’m truly exhausted then I’ll be back on the floor. Or there’s always the possibility of the exact opposite, that I’ll look so stupid that he’ll be too embarrassed to be seen with me after I get down.
Neither seemed to be the case. We danced all the way till two in the morning. Hyperfunk made the announcement that he would be having a CD release party next Thursday and that anyone who walked through the door that night would get a copy of his CD. Now that sounded like fun, especially since I knew that Thursday’s was Open House night for that club, and that meant free cover and House music all night.
Walking me to my car, I gave Dominick my number and after saying something about catching a cab he turned to walk away. I watched him head down the length of the parking lot and something inside screamed that I shouldn’t let him go just yet. Calling out his name, I asked if I could give him a ride home but once he was in my car it ended up being a trip to Denny’s for breakfast. I wanted to get to know him better and I certainly wasn’t ready to let him out of my sight just yet.
The rest of the night, or should I say morning was awesome. It was just strange how comfortable we felt with each other. Life is interesting that way and I have only the best of hopes that Dominick and I have some more good times ahead of us. He’s awesome, gorgeous and a great dancer. I couldn’t ask for more. Well maybe that I don’t screw it up.

I Feel Much Better

In a previous post (Should I Stay or Should I Go) I mentioned the search for who had done this song and what the darn name of it was. I’ve still yet to mix it into the next of the compilation CD’s that I make, but it’s coming. Aside from the silly search for the artist and title of this particular house song it just seems to come up at interesting times in my life.
When the new music museum opened downtown I attended the House themed New Years Party held in conjunction with the traveling Disco exhibit they had at the time. The song sticks out firmly in my mind as playing that night. I remember belting out the lyrics as I danced the night away with my boyfriend and friend Nicole.
The thing of it really is that this song speaks to the heart of me. People tell me that clubbing is something I’ll grow out of. Drinking and dancing will grow old for me and I’ll soon realize I need to be doing adult things like getting eight hours of sleep or grocery shopping.
Yet I prove to myself time and again that I’m still young. I need to live my life while I can. I want to look back at my life when I have settled down and know that I have some great stories and that I did all that I could to really live life to the fullest. No regrets for time wasted or things undone. And at the moment when I feel the most alone, I do feel much better... At Night!

At Night
By Shakedown

(I feel... at night)
It seems I can't deny
Some days just don't seem right
I think I feel, I feel much better
At night

Sometimes I can't deny
Some days just don't seem right
I think I feel, I feel much better
At night

Sometimes I can't deny
Some days just pass me by
You know I feel, I feel much better
At night

(I feel...)

Seems I can't deny
Some days just don't seem right
I think I feel, I feel much better
At night
Sometimes I can't deny
Some days just pass me by
You know I feel, I feel much better
At night
Yeah

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

Earlier last weekend I had decided that I was going to check out a different place because two DJ’s from my favorite radio station were going to be spinning. After going out to dinner with a co-worker, I changed my clothes quickly and drove him back up to his place in the city. Problem was I miscalculated the timing and it was entirely too early. I ended up hanging out and watching Donnie Darko. Not exactly the sort of movie one should watch before going out alone to a place they’ve never been to before. That movie blew my mind; it’s definitely something that makes you think about so many things at once.
Still determined, I headed into downtown much later than I had wanted. I was seriously worried I was going to be dealing with parking issues and a real crowd. Turned out the whole situation was the exact opposite. At almost midnight I rolled into this club with parking along the back wall of the building. Walking in I was again seriously disappointed. Several people were at the bar and even though I moved on quickly I could tell these were the “regulars”, especially for a Wednesday night. They were sitting in clusters and talking across the bar to each other. Heading toward the music and eager to catch up with whatever had started without me I walked down a set of steps onto the dance floor. The back wall of the place was covered in these funky convex mirrors and three screens separated the area from the bar. Projectors were showing different things on each screen. The crowd itself was one girl and two guys just sitting. A part of me wanted to turn and run. Looking up into the booth I recognized the DJ and knew I was indeed in the right place. What to do? Taking a deep breath I re-evaluated my situation and the actual music started to seep into my muddled brain. I really didn’t want to turn and flee. I wanted to dance. I wanted to really let loose and forget my problems.
The next best option was to take a seat and hope the music would spur me or the situation would change. Choosing a seat at random I watched the swirling lights and bobbed my head to the beat. At this point I wasn’t coming out of my coat for love or money. This was still my armor against the fact that I was looking extremely sporty and dressed up compared to the other three people that were seated in the area.
The two guys were dressed well but not looking like the sort that was in to this kind of music and were showing no signs of ever considering the idea of dancing. The girl to my left was of a bigger frame and was dressed more comfortable than anything else. No make-up or jewelry, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. At first I started judging her for her sloppy appearance and sometimes off beat movements, yet I realized that she just heard it all differently than I did and that didn’t make her wrong. As the night went on I came to admire her more and more. Here I was sitting the whole thing out and she was up doing her own thing.
As it would figure there was a group of friends out for some occasion that descended back into the dance area from the bar. The girl who walked out with a guy and danced for a moment marched over to me and asked if I was having fun sitting in front of her drink. I did the usual smile and nod method. What is there even to say to such a bitchy question? Figuring alcohol had a lot to do with her increased attitude I counted on the fact that I could plead the lack of hearing due to the volume of the music. I waited for them to go back up to the bar again before I moved several seats down, this time trying to be observant of some one else’s property or tasty beverage.
It actually didn’t take that long to get me up on the floor. I was seriously daunted by the idea of just jumping up there and dancing. It was a small floor and the speaker system didn’t push the sound to where the dance floor really was. The DJ booth was off to the side and pretty much out of sight line from where I was sitting. Then again that didn’t really matter since the DJ wasn’t the sort that interacted with the crowd much. So other than the two guys that were just sitting to one side watching everything, all I really had to impress was the other girl and she was really content in her corner doing her own thing.
I was reminded of old times when I had a huge dance floor all to myself. I use to find as close to direct center and dance from about nine-thirty to almost eleven at night. This was the time when the majority of people had started to come in and begin what I always called the “horse shoe”. With the ends on either side of the DJ booth, people would ring all the way around the length of the dance floor, stacking up at the back by the bar. It was about then that I was never sure if I was keeping people off the floor or if it was the House music that kept them all on the sidelines. I would always try to get more people up there, quick to give space for any one who was brave enough to join me. In the end it was the DJ that would switch to hip-hop and I would take my first break of the night.
I would hurry though my workweek to get back this process that signaled the weekend and fun. Now here I was on a dance floor the size of my apartment, not a warehouse, and couldn’t quite get the courage to dance yet. I needed inspiration.
As more songs that I loved played, I began what I call “the edge”. Normally I’m observing this in other people, but for once I saw the process in myself. Instead of just charging on to the dance floor to take control and then forget anything else, I was exhibiting all the signs. It’s a slow progression that reminds me of someone waiting to participate in Double-Dutch. It’s about timing and finding the right moment to jump in. After sliding to the edge of the seat, I give up on the chair dancing and stand. The dancing is still pretty low key, I’m just moving a little bit; like an experiment to make sure all parts are still working and the way I want them too. Then comes the movement away from the safety zone of the chair and I give up the coat at last. After that it’s an immediate regression in movement, I look around and just make sure I feel okay with the way I look as compared to the other people in the room. It’s the last moment of insecurity. After that it just takes a good song to send me pouncing out there.
As it turned out it was a song that I have a little bit of a funny history with. Shakedown “At Night” is an awesome song just on principle, but my whole story started with my friend Nicole describing the song to me and asking if I knew the artist. For once I had been completely without resources. I knew the song exactly, right down the lyrics for the first three lines. Yet I wasn’t sure how I was going to get the artist. My friend Jon has the knack for the Internet and the annoying ability of always finding things. He gave me song and artist in under five minutes. This led to my ordering the import single and an increased appreciation for the song all together. This was the song that played and really started my night.
After that it was pretty much off and on, depending on if I was just tired or not feeling the groove at the time. The DJ Speedy G took over at one o’clock and things definitely picked up. I’ve known, not personally, this DJ for two years and had watched him grow to become amazing. I use to frequent another club several months ago because he had the whole basement to himself and it was like a House music paradise, all my favorite songs and a nearly empty floor. Now he was quite the showman and the two guys that I had written off earlier as never joining the party were personal friends of his. Before starting the set the Speedy G came down and talked with the two of them for a moment and then dragged them to the bar. It was then that I had a vain moment of wondering if I could get in good with the two friends and officially meet the DJ at the end of the night.
After that I was just getting tired as hell but having a good time. Speedy watched the crowd and at every turn showed his intimate knowledge of the songs and his love for the music. He was singing along to vocals, and doing his own thing up there in the booth with whatever the cord from the headphones would allow. After a while it was funny to realize that he would tip off when the song was about to drop back into some heavy beats with this pile driver move that he would pull. He was definitely into the whole thing.
There is nothing better than a DJ that puts out so much energy that you HAVE to dance. There’s something to be said for the relationship between a DJ and the crowd. The DJ gets you moving, and keeps you moving. It if he doesn’t care about the record he’s slapped on next, then why should you? I’ve always just found it completely irresistible when a DJ knows all the words to every song, knows every high and low. When he’s up in the booth dancing and loving his job, then I am way more into the whole scene. I give the DJ energy because I am dancing to what he’s creating. He gives back in this awesome sort of circular thing. It’s tough to explain but when it’s there, there’s nothing like it. I don’t leave the floor. I’d rather drop dead of exhaustion than miss a single beat.
At two o’clock the music ended and I was caught in the middle between trying to appear as a groupie or just go home. I was sweaty, probably looking nasty, and tired as hell. It was the best kind of tired though. The kind where I go to sleep the minute I hit the pillow and I wake up the next morning feeling better about life. I had talked with one of the two guys and they had both ended up dancing. I had even caught the DJ’s attention all on my own, during a rather naughty song that I really loved and knew well. Yet in the end I had to work the next morning and had definitely stayed later than originally planned. Home I went and ever so glad that I had stayed instead of running.

Standing Observation

At the moment I am honestly all upset about some personal stuff that I’m going through. Depending on the situation I’ll either run to or from going out. This whole mess I put myself in, I’ve felt so alone inside my own skin that I’ve had to be around people as much as possible. I just want to be an anonymous face but there is just something soothing to me about being out.
Tuesday I went to my regular spot and it was really dead. The music wasn’t hitting me the right way and the crowd was … well interesting. There’s always the drunk. He’s so into the music, but I find it crazy that he is trashed every week by eleven o’clock. He’s one of the few out there dancing, which is usually closer to pacing forward and backward while shaking his bottle of beer around.
Then there’s the DJ’s crew; people who are there specifically for the person spinning at the time. This usually grows as the night goes on. More people that want to know the DJ or just want to look like they do. The girls always sit on the stage area, and it’s almost like clockwork that one of them will bump the set-up for the turntables and either skip, stall, or scratch the record playing at the time. The guys always have to stand as close to the DJ as possible, practically breathing down the poor person’s neck as they work. They’re right there when the DJ is choosing the next record. Or either sex will just stand directly in front of the turntables and watch.
There’s always at least one person that just really wants to dance. Usually it’s the people that just want to show off for five minutes. They are always backed by an entire group of friends that is holding down the bar but more than willing to cheer the representative on. These people go out for a few minutes and just bust a move the best and quickest way possible and then walk back to their crowd to be congratulated.
Closer to midnight these two girls jumped up onto the dance floor out of nowhere. Looking like the best of friends they were dressed all retro with fingerless gloves and funky belts. It was tough to admit but they were awesome dancers and the guys descended on the two of them without much of a wait. One of the bartenders that my friends and I call Captain Morgan because of his twirl-y mustache and beard came over to compliment them and hand over a bottle of water to each. The Captain was also one to dance whenever they didn’t need him behind the bar, and has been an avid promoter of getting the dance floor started. That’s how I met him more than a year ago. The thought made me feel old and out of the game.
I only stayed an hour and stood by the entire time. I was happy enough that I had somewhere to go and that I could listen to House music for just a little while in a laid back atmosphere with a sound system close enough to that of a club’s.
No one spoke to me the whole time nor did I even really want anyone too. I’ve been on a string of sadly miscarried meetings and another phone number was not going to make it better. I was out for my own reasons and happy enough for that alone. Something about being out alone again, and losing myself to the music made me feel more grounded. I haven’t forgotten who I was, or what I enjoy. Deep down I’m still the same person and I would make it through whatever life threw at me next.
Feeling calmer about life I drove back home.

"Everytime" I Hear This Song

This last year I gave my cousin yet another in a long line of dance mix CDs. The tradition so far has been for me to give it to him and then ask for it immediately back so I can burn a copy of it for myself. This year I decided to be smart and just burn a copy before I wrapped the dang thing. This of course led to an interesting little bit of work with a knife. I’m told he didn’t even notice my handy work until much later, but he was proud that I had taken care of the burning already.
At the time the CD was interesting enough but the track list was all songs that were being overplayed on the radio. I listened to it a couple of times and then stashed it. A couple of weeks ago I was heading out to go dancing and really wanted something up-beat to listen to on the way into the city. Something about the timing or my mood, the CD just hit me the right way and I continued to listen to it, pretty much non-stop, for a couple weeks. As it always turns out, one song starts to stick out for me because of something that is happening in my life.
Aside from the fact that it’s a Brittany Spears song, I must remind all readers that it is a HOUSE REMIX and hence my increased liking of the song all together. Now I will admit that I like some of Brittany’s dance stuff. It gets me moving and that’s important, but it usually takes some other DJ to make it a better song. This one in particular I managed to catch the video before I moved out of my apartment (and all hope of having control over the T.V.) Talk about a twisted plot they added to this song.
When I hear this trance-y version I tend to think more of a bungled romance. Things were working out but she’s taking the responsibility for it getting messed up. The problem with it all is that he’s getting on a whole lot more easily than she. It’s the same sort of idea as the Dido song I also posted. The similar idea from the song “Sand In My Shoes” is that some people stick with you because you can’t let them go. I’m in that situation at the moment honestly. The whole thing is really my fault. Yet the major thing that is keeping me from letting go is the fact that he asked to be friends and then never spoke to me again. The one thing that I cannot stand is being purposely ignored and with that the hurt that goes with the idea that someone out there wants absolutely no contact with me ever again. Your face is haunting me…

Everytime
By Brittany Spears (Valentin Remix)

Notice me
Take my hand
Why are we
Strangers when
Our love is strong
Why carry on without me?

Everytime I try to fly
I fall without my wings
I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And everytime I see you in my dreams
I see your face, it's haunting me
I guess I need you baby

I make believe
That you are here
It's the only way
I see clear
What have I done?
You seem to move on easy

And everytime I try to fly
I fall without my wings
I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And everytime I see you in my dreams
I see your face, you're haunting me
I guess I need you baby

I may have made it rain
Please forgive me
My weakness caused you pain
And this song's my sorry

At night I pray
That soon your face will fade away

And everytime I try to fly
I fall without my wings
I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And everytime I see you in my dreams
I see your face, you're haunting me
I guess I need you baby

Phat Tuesday

I’ve never participated in anything relating to the Mardi Gras celebration. Before and after I’ve always been to the clubs and listened to other people’s stories. The closest we came was two years ago my best friend was asked to design a New Orleans style balcony for the club that became our “Cheers”. She was leaving for a vacation and didn’t have the time with work with the general manager on the design. A couple years prior to that, there was a terrible riot in the downtown clubbing area. The cops were totally unprepared for the number of people that streamed into the streets and caused serious drunken mayhem through out the city. Since then the downtown area that was the heart of the spree, is now like walking into a police station. There are more cops in that area than people trying to get into the clubs. Driving into the area you are met with the five huge buses, which I call “paddy wagons”, meant to accommodate mass arrests.
The ultimate goal is to project a sense of safety to the area as well as immediately eliminate the possibility of another riot even starting. DUI’s are pretty much caught in a block or two. Fights within establishments have immediate support. The rest of the city can sleep more easily knowing that those twenty-something hoodlums will be dealt with.
The opposite side of all this safety is that city cops have never been the nicest. The regular patrols for this area, at times, seem to pick fights with people at the end of the night. Now you have two billion cops walking around with nothing else to do but feel big and important. The other annoying thing is that all this extreme cop presence takes up all the street parking, several sections of paid parking, and the “paddy wagon round up” uses the whole upper level of the one parking garage that is the closest and cheapest.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am not down on the cops at all. They deal with so much shit, and as a female that clubs alone, that would indeed make me feel extremely better about going out. It’s the overwhelming feeling of two billion cops waiting for you to do anything, ANYTHING, so they can body slam you into handcuffs. Most people I talked to this year, and past years, specifically avoid the area because of the cop presence.
Even I planned on sleeping through another Mardi Gras. I specially told friends that, as much as I had wanted to go out dancing this last weekend, it just wasn’t a safe time for a girl to be going out alone. The whole “earning” of beads gets drunk men treating women all alike with an extremely lowered sense of respect. I’m not against it; I just don’t want to put myself in a place where I could get into trouble when I’m out alone.
If it wasn’t for my awesome friend Jimmy I would never have gone out. He gave me a call the minute I got off work and said that I needed to get my ass home, change, and get back up to his “crib”. We were going out! A part of me was so completely happy because he hadn’t spoken me to in over a month and it had been a while since I had gone out. On the other hand a part of me was hesitant to tackle the over policed scene that would be downtown.
After some dinner and several choices for outfits I ended up taking the fashion advice from another awesome guy. My friend Jon, who took me out for my birthday, suggested that the corset top to the formal dress I wore then, would look great with just a pair of jeans. Turned out to be totally true, I ended up getting a lot of compliments later. Set to go, with my favorite hat in place, I headed out the door and out to Jimmy’s “crib”.
Only a little late getting there (dang slow people on the freeway) we had a couple drinks to get things started and then Jimmy dug out his stash. Apparently last year he stocked up with the intention of going out and ended up staying in due to the amount of alcohol he’d managed to consume in the safety of his own home. So after loading up on beads, to which I grabbed a couple just so I didn’t look out of place, we headed out with Jimmy behind the wheel.
Downtown we went and after a couple swings through the heart of the police district we promptly gave up on free street parking and headed to the closest parking garage to call it a night. I paid for parking since I was making Jimmy run the risk of getting pulled over by making him drive. Hustling into the club it seemed so dead. It was also about nine O’clock, a little bit early, but it was Marti Gras people!
Inside it was actually pretty busy. All the shaded windows with a view to the downtown area were open and the lights were still up on the main floor. The screens that normally show psychedelic imagines that move in time with the music, were showing the basketball game. There wasn’t a DJ yet either, just popular hip hop songs playing in the background. Upon entering and hitting the bar, we both received the first beads for the night. The buffet was all finger-foods but you can’t really beat free cover and free food. Something about free just makes it better.
Now before I can continue I need to explain the amazing person that Jimmy is. Only a couple inches shorter than I, he is a Mr. Clean style bald Korean with his own bit of Asian hip-hop flavor. He loves to dance. He can get out on an empty floor and do his thing without a care in the world except for the feel of music. He’s also the sort of guy that if you put him in a room with twenty people for a half hour, he’ll come out friends with nineteen of them. All of these are qualities that I love about him. While I meet people by situation, Jimmy throws himself into your world and makes everyone have a great time.
After a trip to the bar we both turned to look for a place to stash coats and start our evening. Seeing a guy standing by himself, decked out with plenty of beads but looking both alone and unhappy. Jimmy immediately headed for him and the table. I found it ironic that I was both prepared that he would head for this person first and that I’d naturally taken up the role of sidekick. Laying down our coats Jimmy immediately introduces himself and starts to find out about the guy; where he’s from, what he does, what’s going on that night for him. People are always inclined to just tell Jimmy anything, because he truly does want to know about you and that’s the most awesome vibe to get from someone in the clubbing world. So much of the “meet and greet” is totally superficial. As is turned out it was this guy’s birthday and he just wanted to get out and have some fun. All his friends and family were out of town. From there on, it was Jimmy’s mission to help this guy have a good birthday.
As if on cue then comes my introduction. Now Jimmy also has this amazing ability to both promote and embarrass the hell out of me. It starts out simple with the statement of, “This is my home-girl B.” His nickname for me has always been either B, the first letter of my name, or Cat. So I start out as a letter and then turn into a whole feline fatal personality of Catwoman. But then it just sorts of spirals from there depending on his goofy mood or the amount of alcohol he’s had. The focus then changes to a total advertisement on my ability to dance. Even that can go two ways. Either I’m an amazing talented dancer or I’m this naughty girl that is a sight to behold on the dance floor. With all that promotion I sort of have to produce. Everyone he’s introduced me to, now wants me to prove it. Talk about pressure! But truth be told, I sort of look forward to this moment of “throwing down”. I am as confident in my talent as Jimmy is in telling other people about it. I’m just WAY more humble about it than he is.
From there I was left with Birthday Boy to chat as Jimmy made his rounds within the room. Several sets of beads were earned in that first sweep of the room. I on the other hand was itching to both get dancing and to get more drink. Mr. Birthday was a really interesting person, not my type, but great to talk to and joke with as we both watched Jimmy proposition girls left and right.
It wasn’t too long after we got settled and Jimmy had told several people, now gathered at our table, about the birthday we were celebrating and my amazing talents on the floor. It was ironically at that moment a great song came on and away I went. Depending on the feel of the crowd or the people I’m with it really takes that great song to start me going. It was only about ten o’clock by this time, which is extremely early by every clubbing standard. Now I must state that I did not start this dance floor, even with how early it was when I did finally get started doing what I love. Several girls had tried their hand at being alone on the floor but were either strangely encouraged or frightened by our tables jeering. Classy things such as “Take it off!” or “Shake that big ole booty” doesn’t always inspire a girl to stick around. This was just another moment in my life when I found it utterly hilarious that I was at a table filled with all guys and I was shouting the same derogatory things at the silly, dancing girls right along with everyone else. Always one of the guys and I honestly hope that never changes. Hell of a lot more fun hanging with the guys than with a bunch of girls at the club.
Anyway, back to the point, though several girls had come and gone none of them had stuck around for longer than a song, if that. I started moving out to the floor and of course Jimmy was right behind me saying, “Uh Oh! Here she goes boys!” It was about that moment that Jimmy and I started laughing at each other as we noticed it wasn’t quite the same to dance with tons of beads swinging around your neck. I was also wearing stiletto style heeled boots, which are pretty comfortable, and a tightly laced corset. Dancing in all that was an entirely different experience. With all that accounted for, we still always manage to put on a good show. He and I have been dancing together for quite some time. I think it’s awesome that we both have different styles that look good on their own, but we can work it all together.
At last the DJ started up a pretty impressive House set and I was totally loving life dancing as I love to do, giving in to the beat completely. As the night wore on the table was diligent in both making sure I had a drink, that Birthday Boy had a drink, and that everyone knew there was a birthday to celebrate. Girls were showing their goods left and right and I started giving Jimmy my beads a few at a time so that he wouldn’t run out. I kept to the dance floor and Jimmy was doing what he does best.
The bottom floor opened up early and Jimmy and I took a quick jaunt down there to check it out. My favorite bartender was yawning when I hit the bar down there. I’ve known him for almost two years, making the connection when a DJ friend of mine started spinning in a club down south. Back then he was the resident hottie bartender. Amazing physical appearance aside, he has a heart of gold and is a truly awesome bartender. Grabbing a drink and dancing to a couple hip hop songs, Jimmy and I decided we still liked it better upstairs.
In the end I really wasn’t propositioned to show anything to get beads. The more people I met through Jimmy, the more people that just gave me beads without asking for anything in return. I started giving out beads myself along with a kiss on the cheek to those men that were brave enough to come out on the dance floor and give it their best. Like I’ve mentioned before, that is my soapbox. Men need more encouragement on the dance floor than women and anything that I can do to get another guy out there will benefit everyone.
At some point during the evening Jimmy gave me a red feather boa. At first I was confused as to where and how he got it. But then again I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know. The story he gave me later was that he’d gotten a girl to give him a little bit of a naughty dance and he’d ended up with the boa. Not knowing what else to do with it, he’d immediately walked away and given it to me. In hindsight that explained the nasty looks I was getting from the other girls with similar feathers, and one girl sans boa. Yet by then I was beyond caring and made the most of my new toy.
While swinging my boa around like something akin to a twenties flapper, I happened to look over at the people coming up from the basement. A group of guys were standing together watching the floor and talking. I caught the eye of one guy who looked strangely familiar. Either way the guy was incredibly hot, which made me really want to remember how I knew him. Who’s boyfriend was he? As I kept dancing I kept an eye on him, desperate to figure out why he looked so familiar. He was so hot that it made me doubtful that it was someone I had spoken to before. Maybe he was just a guy I had seen at the club another time and wished I had talked to. Every time I looked over, he was looking at me, or what I was hoping was me and not some incredibly gorgeous girl behind me. The group was moving around and we kept making eye contact. If I had never met him, he at least knew I was interested. At last he came over and we danced. After a couple dances he leaned forward and said, “I think I’ve danced with you before.”
Now the evening definitely starts to get fuzzy, the alcohol was starting to kick in by this time. I said that I remembered him as well and we started to talk. He introduced himself again and I realized that I had indeed met this guy before. I was pleased to figure out who he was, yet not happy with the story that was behind the whole thing. Three or more months ago, my good friend Nicole and I had gone out and this was the man I had targeted as the hottest guy in the club. We had danced, and talked, had incredible chemistry. Before he took off with his friends we had exchanged numbers and I was on cloud nine. This was the hottest guy I had ever had the pleasure of hooking up with. As the story always goes, he never called me. Less than a week ago I had finally erased his number from my phone. Remembering all this I gave him both barrels with the usual “Yeah I called you and you never called me back.” That turned into a small saga but we talked longer and he took my number again. I left the ball completely in his court. Without his number I couldn’t agonize over being the first one to call like last time. If he did call then I would love to get to know him, if he didn’t then at least I had gotten my two cents in. I've just always believe that things happen for a reason and it was too random, for my way of thinking, to run into him and almost replay the whole situation over again. Seemed too much like a second chance.
By about midnight we connected back up with Birthday Boy and agreed to meet up with him at different club on the other side of town. Heading out I remember being obnoxiously loud about the fact that we were both rather intoxicated and that there was no question that Jimmy would get pulled over. Alcohol is sort of a volume enhancing truth drug at times. Now there are things that you could never get me to talk about, and actions you could never get me to do no matter the amount of alcohol I’ve had. I’ve never publicly embarrassed myself due to alcohol and I plan to keep it that way. On the other hand I’m sure that I have brought myself more attention than was necessary on more than one occasion. Needless to say we made it to the other club without any sort of trouble from Cop Town.
This club was packed beyond belief. There was no way we could find Mr. Birthday and in the end gave up. There was no room to dance, no way to get to the bar, and no way to really do anything. Both happy enough with our Fat Tuesday experiences, we decided to call it a night. We had survived Marti Gras without incident and still managed to have a hell of a time.