International Player

When Nicole called and left me a message that Friday was the best night for her to go out, I was little surprised. Normally we did the whole Saturday night at our usual spot. This favorite club of ours wasn’t exactly what I would call, “The Spot” on Fridays. So I decided that we should venture to a different place for our House music fix.
Everything that night was not going as it was originally planned. Some of that turned out for the better, some for not the better. A guy who had worked for us during the summer was back in town and a bunch of us were supposed to go to dinner to hang out with him. I suggested the Irish Pub my boss is a frequent client at because the food there was awesome as well as allowed minors in before a certain time. As we headed out right after work, my boss mentioned that the guy we were going to dinner for in the first place, wasn’t going to be able to make it. Of course we went anyway, and drank in front of the two minors that we brought with us. That was almost strange, and probably somewhat torturous for the two that weren’t legally the age to drink.
As I predicted, dinner and such was over too soon and I felt stupid since I had agreed to meet Nicole there at nine-thirty that night. When my boss and one other person left, he gave me and the other guy quarters so that we could hang out playing pool in order to kill some time. As luck would have it, the only open table to play pool on was broken and my co-worker didn’t seemed thrilled about playing with five balls and the cue ball. So there went that idea.
Nicole and I met up finally and I ended up being the one to drive. Which at the time was kind of funny because I was still pretty toasty from the drinks I'd had with my meal. By the time she and I headed out I was fine, and I almost glad that I was done drinking for the evening. I just wasn’t in the mood to get any farther than what I had already achieved at dinner: nicely warmed and outwardly funny.
Parking paid for, we headed for the club at closer to eleven than I had really intended. The cover jumped up at that particular time and this whole evening was already technically beyond my financial boundaries. It had been pouring all day and the thought of waiting in line in the rain didn’t really appeal much either, but the Gods were merciful as the raindrops held during our stand in the slow moving line. By the time we made it to the door where the bouncer was checking ID’s the rain did return, sprinkling on the rest of the poor souls.
ID’s checked, the wait was then for the cashier. One of the female bouncers outside told me she really liked my hat. “But if you just rocked it to the side, you’d be off the hook.” I turned the hat for her, and she gave me the thumbs up. I shook my head and told her that I didn’t wear it like that because everyone else did. She only smiled at me. “That doesn’t matter. You look bad ass like that. That’s what matters.” After an unexpected compliment like that, I had to take the whole thing back under consideration.
The first girl I ran into with her hat turned and my hat went right back to the way I like it. There’s just something I can’t stand about doing the “trendy thing”. Silly things like purses, hairstyles, and articles of clothing can grab my attention, but if I see that everyone else has jumped on the same bandwagon I want nothing to do with it. I’ve really strived to surround myself with things that truly reflect my personality and my own sense of style. It’s taken me this long to figure out who I am, I’m not going to bury it under a bunch of over commercialized bullshit only to come out another cog in the clock. That’s just not the way I do things. That’s not to say I don’t own things that are popular at the time, my hat being a major case in point. This is then a situation of being true to myself. I love that hat because of how it looks on me and I wear it the way I want.
Nicole and I both checked our coats, which was nice because I didn’t have to have a ton of things in my pockets for once. Normally I check my coat and stash even Nicole’s stuff in my pockets, which leads to having unsightly bulges. Besides making life interesting for the guy you’re grinding on with two sets of car keys in your front pocket, there’s just something not right about seeming “happy” to see the other person when you’re a girl.
We took a quick walk through the place to find a bathroom, and check the scene as well. It was early yet, and even with the line to get in the door there really wasn’t that many people inside. The first place that everyone went was the bar anyway. A club with a split personality, first section played House and the second floor that looked down on the “Saturday Night Fever” dance floor had it’s own DJ spinning House as well. The majority of the second floor is all VIP. The other half of the club had Hip-hop and rap playing all night, and had taken up the majority of the population as well. Even with the quick walk through from the door to the bathroom and back downstairs, the people that were hanging about on our side of the club had a lot of promise. There were certainly a lot of guy groups that had a lack of girlfriend looking types. It’s not about finding a one-night-stand or about hooking up for the future. All I’m ever looking for is to meet someone who I can have some fun with for a little while. I’ve made a lot of interesting friends in the long term because of this outlook. For that I frown when friends say a girl can only meet losers at clubs. Depends on what she’s looking for when she meets people.
Downstairs staring over the dance floor, I was busy bitching to Nicole about the big and curvy Go-go Dancers that they had apparently installed since the last time I had been at that particular club. Being female and one of the few to be the first on the floor dancing, the last thing I want to see is some busty girl falling out of her Victoria Secret bra and stilting around on huge platform boots. This may be jealousy or it could be sheer feminine annoyance. Either way it just leads me to bitching at my poor friend with a combination of both feelings.
Nicole, who probably was hoping to shut me up, headed to the bar to buy some drinks. The dance floor was empty and everyone in the place was basically hitting up the bar first thing. Nicole had just gotten good news from work that morning and wanted to celebrate the fact that she would be going back to her beloved Germany come the New Year. I even opted out on the hard liquor. I just wanted a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and that was good enough. Some guy that had stood in line behind us tried to strike up a conversation, but neither of us really felt like putting in the effort to chat with him. Standing in line with a person doesn’t suddenly make you closer to them.
Taking our drinks back with us to the dance floor it was an odd sort of observation as we talked for a moment about life and watched the Go-go dancers. As Go-go dancers go, they were typical and nothing spectacular. I will never be one because of the way I dance. I have to remind myself that, all of that doesn’t make me a bad dancer, but it just makes me unique. If I’m ever to find employment, I will have to look for a club that is looking for what I have to give. One of the girls I recognized from the casino when I had auditioned so long ago. She apparently remembered me because she turned to wave as we stood sipping our drinks. I knew it was the hat that had probably jogged her memory. I also then pondered if I would lead a completely separate life if I took the hat off; like Superman and Clark Kent with his glasses.
As the DJ’s switched out and the club continued to fill up with people, Nicole and I did what we always do best: dance. I remember appreciating the fact that it had been quite some time since she and I had last gone out and this time things seemed to be working more our way. I am always glad for Nicole’s friendship and that she understands both my passion for House music and for dancing. As much as I like going out alone for the all the good things independence can give me, there’s still something better about being able to share a situation with someone who understands.
The House scene has always felt like some sort of underground movement from when I first turned twenty-one. The whole industry is becoming a lot more main stream as time goes by and that both encourages me and makes me wonder. The same people that I see when I go out on Tuesday nights, I was noticing as a part of the DJ crew here on a Friday night. I’ve always been excited about the fact that I was a regular in this scene enough to know and to be recognized by the people I consider to be regulars. Yet as I looked around at those same people, I began to wonder if those people ever listened to other types of music. Did these people go to other types of clubs? What was it about this scene that got people to come out? I know deep down that I have a passion for the music and I love dancing. The music moves me yet whatever that music is, I’ll dance to it. What was it for these people? Was it narrow minded to be such a regular?
Nicole started dancing with this guy that seemed determined to break all her rules and boundaries. She has this amazing look of pure “help me” that always strikes a bit of worry in me every time. I’ve never had a problem rescuing her; I’m just not shy about dancing my way around the situation and walking away with her in the process. On the dance floor I’m confident. If this was a bar situation and she needed my assistance, I fear I’d be pretty useless. Yet even though she and I stopped to talk several times about how things were going for her with the guy, or I pulled her way to dance with me on a different part of the floor, she still managed to end up back where she was. At the time I wasn’t sure if I was losing my touch or if she was still really unsure as to whether she wanted to be rescued.
Walking away on her own, she and I ventured over to the Hip-hop side for the heck of it. There were a lot of good things to look at but the whole atmosphere was different. Only ten steps away from where I had been dancing, this side reminded me of that weird gritty, aggressive scene that I had gotten to know so well when I started clubbing right after college. I hate to link it to the music, but rap doesn’t exactly send the message of sweet-talking a woman to get what you want. Nicole surprised me by wanting to stay on that side and dance for a bit. Normally I was the one settling for the hip-hop while she yearned for loftier things.
The guy we ended up dancing with was the same one I had gotten so angry with at my Thursday night spot for slapping and hitting me. A very good dancer, he’s just an out there sort of guy that seems to get so fired up about the music and the situation. Egging me on I started trying to show off for the guy, and then he ended up dancing with Nicole. By then I came back to my senses and wondered what the heck I was doing. Why was I on this side of the club when an awesome DJ was spinning House on the other side?
Back on the “Saturday Night Fever” dance floor I felt a better sense of belonging. There’s something about the atmosphere that House creates, but that is also dependent on the people that are making up the crowd. Those that listen to House are usually more dependent on their love for the music and the joy of dancing to it. Those that listen to Hip-hop seem to be more intent on hooking up and being a “playa pimp”. Looking over the crowd again I noticed this guy that had been dancing as consistently as Nicole and I had been. As I came and went, when ever I returned this guy would give me some sort of sign that he saw me. The first few times I found it a little strange since every time I made eye contact with the guy, he had a different pretty girl he was dancing with. I calmed down when I rationalized that he just was another enthusiast like me. It was like two motorcycle riders waving to each other as they pass.
Another guy caught my attention because of his height and the fact that he was attractive. He was talking to one of the Go-go dancers as she got off her platform and his friends seemed to hovering a little closer that most normal situations would entail. As I watched him move through the crowd toward me, I remember thinking that he must be a little drunk, and was probably trying to hook up with the dancer. Oddly enough he stopped right in front of me as I stood alone, and announced that he would dance with me.
We ended up talking quite a bit, definitely more that I was use to when in a loud club. It was also really apparent that he, James or Big James as he decided to share with me, was drunk since the conversation became quite circular. He asked my name several times, where I worked, things like that and would forget the answer not a minute later. There was a boyish quality about him that really appealed to me, since most guys become totally testosterone driven with the influence of alcohol. I remember thinking that he would probably be an interesting person once sober.
Nicole and I headed for the bathroom again and as we came down the stairs a guy came over to me randomly and tried starting a conversation. I’m not sure what it was about it that bothered me. The opening line was sort of cheesy, “Hey so pretty and all alone.” I took his hand when he offered it, but when he asked me to stop and talk to him for a minute I just turned and walked away. There was just something about it that made me roll my eyes and want nothing to do with the person. I was looking to see where James had gone and didn’t give the guy another thought. It was a moment before I noticed that Nicole wasn’t behind me but had stayed to chat with the guy.
I felt like a bitch suddenly, but then again I’ve never been one to falsely encourage a guy. If his line is terrible don’t stand there and encourage him like it was a great opener. He’s only going to use it on other girls later. The same with brave guys who try to bully their way into dancing with girls. Most of them get their way because girls are too shy to shove a guy off. The same rules apply. Don’t encourage his behavior, he’s only going to think that is the way to treat girls on the dance floor and do the same annoying ass thing next weekend to some other poor unsuspecting girl. Along with my soapbox about getting more men to dance and be confident about it, I’m also huge on trying to get guys to realize that clubbing is not an excuse to be a jerk. I have no delusions that I will find the man of my dreams or even my next “Mister Right-Now”, which just makes me the girl for that night. Whatever behavior works for him this time, he’ll fall back on the next time he goes out. Keep that in mind the next time you go out.
James and I danced and talked for a moment more, but his large group of friends headed out and he went with them. Nicole was still enjoying the company of the guy I had completely blown off and I felt too awkward to go over there and talk to her because of it. Again I was facing the interesting guy that kept catching my eye, and flagging down my attention. Even though he had this drunken girl rubbing her self all over him, he still reached out to meet my hand as a sign of recognition. It was the oddest sense of understanding someone completely by the look in his eye. He seemed to be glad that I got rid of the other guy and that I was on the floor giving my self back up to the music. Getting that vibe from him was almost funny since he appeared to be like every other guy; doing his little two-step and never without a friendly partner.
Trying not to think too deeply about the situation I did indeed go back to my happy place. The DJ that night was throwing out some amazing stuff. At one point I was stopping to rest and raise my hand in the air in a sort of DJ prop. A guy that I had seen plenty that night dancing with his friends tapped my shoulder suddenly. “I like that you wear your hat straight.” This was a great compliment and solved the whole inner conflict that the female bouncer had raised at the beginning of the night. Stay true to yourself and you can never go wrong.
Nicole and her guy were definitely hitting it off and I was happy for her. I still felt weird about the whole thing, but what did it really matter? I blew him off and he met someone who did find him interesting. That was the important part and I really needed to get over myself. I also really needed to figure out what the heck was going on with the man of mystery. Dancing in front of him again, it was odd to watch the funny little shift he did from his current partner to dancing with me. It was the smoothest thing I’d ever seen, and I’m not sure the girl even noticed. With his eyes on me the whole time, he slowly handed the girl over to the guy that was dancing closest and then moved my way. She started rubbing herself all over the guy she was now dancing with and he was free and clear without any sort of issues.
We danced together for the rest of the night. I was so happy to have found someone who was sober, seemed to love the music as much as I do, and was starting to wear me out on the dance floor. I was the one that had to go sit down while he kept dancing and that blew my mind. Mystery man also totally respected my physical boundaries, he wasn’t trying to grind up on me or get all touchy-feely. During a rest break he asked my name and I could tell he had a thick accent. I finally got up the courage to ask where he was from. “Italy,” he replied and I was totally surprised. Looking at him now I could suddenly see the differences. This was no American guy, from the way he acted to the way he even dressed; this was someone who had not been raised in this country.
Nicole was excited about the whole idea of this mysterious Italian. It was still blowing my mind that this was truly some one from another country, not just someone who had distant relatives from Italy who came over through Ellis Island or something like that. We talked for several minutes more outside the club when we left for the night. The guy had an intriguing accent that made everything else about him so exotic. Spanish was the language I took in high school and college. I’ve been around Spanish speaking peoples the most, to include my boss who makes all his phone conversations in Spanish. Even though I know by all principles Spanish and Italian are very close, they are entirely separate languages. I just never realized how different until then.
At one point a tricked out little, back, two-door car came rolling by with some thuged up guy in a white wife-beater who started shouting rather explicit opinions on what kind of girls Nicole and I appeared to be and what he would do with us if we were. The Italian marched directly into the street after the guy with a look that meant someone was going to get hurt, and it was going to be the nasty little thug. The only thing I could think was that no American guy would ever give a shit about something like that. That’s not to say that they don’t completely care, it’s more of a situation that American guys are immune to it all now. Unless someone threatens his girl directly, then the rest is all white noise. There was something really traditional and flattering about having your honor defended in so simple a way.
It was a simple night and yet there was so much going on all at the same time. Either way I’m glad to say that I have branched out into improving relations with other countries. Mmm… real European House… Maybe I should have gotten a number!