Much Too Young

Several months had gone by since the premiere of my friend Cale’s reggae band that was going by the name of Chela, after the stage name of the lead singer. I had had to work through their second gig, which had been a big outdoor festival that was better known for its pot smoker attendees. Apparently it had gone well enough, no one had anything terrible to say about the performance, but there still seemed to be a consensus that they were all better than that. Practice is truly everything and they’d had plenty of it since then. Going up to multiple nights a week, this crew was determined to get the creativity flowing and create a respectable set list that didn’t involve cover after cover. There was also work to be done on getting the lead singer to come out from behind the microphone. She had the talent; she just had to dominate the stage with it.
With this next gig coming up, I knew they would be a completely different band than the one I had first seen. Leaps and bounds of progress had been made and a new all inclusive band name had come out of all that time spent together. Chela and Georgetown were going to take the world by storm if it was the last thing any of them did. I thought it was a great idea. This gave the band some presence on the stage as characters and not just the objects behind the singer that were creating musical accompaniment. I also felt like they could create an angle for their stage shows as well. Everything was really falling into place.
The gig that was going on that night was at a club known for it’s live music and honestly a place I had been eager in seeing the inside of. I only knew it by name and from other people’s stories. Plenty of great DJ’s had gone through but I’d just never had a reason to walk through the door. The nights that I had seen a line around the building had really made me curious. Because of that I had asked to ride along with Cale into the gig, promising to make myself useful and haul gear or whatever he needed from me.
Directly from work I changed my clothes and jumped in the truck loaded down with gear headed toward the city. It was fun to be venturing toward something like that, the expectations that go with an upcoming performance and the fact that I’d really be helping out this time, not just an idle spectator. It also meant that it was going to be a late night since they were headlining and Cale was my ride.
Finding the place, as I had said, was not the problem. Finding parking convenient enough to load sound gear into the venue was the hunt. The sky also wasn’t looking that promising. As time passed the darker the clouds got and the last thing we needed was his stuff getting wet. He had nothing to cover it with. Only a couple circles opened up a spot right across the street from the back entrance. J.C. the keyboardist and Leo the drummer were already moving their stuff through the small door. Using J.C.’s hand-truck that Cale had borrowed, we loaded up his gear and joined the procession of people setting up their musical equipment and staking out the spot on stage they would call home for the length of their set. Apparently two other reggae bands were on the bill for that night, both well established from the chatter. Yet, here was Chela and Georgetown doing their third gig ever and already headlining. It was interesting to ponder. The future seemed to be looking damn bright for this band as a whole.
I always get so excited when I get a “behind the scenes” look at anything. Hauling equipment not only gave me a back stage pass, but a view of the entire club hours before it would be open to the general public. This roadie thing definitely had its perks. The stuff was heavy and most of it I had no idea what the name for it was or why Cale had to have it on stage. I had been a choral performer in school. You showed up, got in line, walked on and did your thing. Everything else was taken care of for you. It was really interesting to start learning what it really took for a band to do what it did. Just like a DJ set up, I wanted to understand my surroundings and how everything worked.
The fact that the equipment was heavy definitely wasn’t bothering me. It was nice to feel useful from that regard as well. The hand-truck only went so far and from the back door there was a set of narrow stairs. Everything had to be carried in and onto the stage from there. I use to work manual labor which was everything from sleeper couches that had to be hauled from the ninth floor of a residence hall to removing an entire office from the basement of the Library. Five years of that and I’ve never been the same. I wouldn’t consider myself a feminist. It’s all very personal for me. My crusade to not be taken for granted has nothing to do with the rest of woman-kind. They are on their own. I refuse to be treated differently because of my gender. Just because I was born female does not automatically equate to my inability to lift heavy objects or have a rational thought. I can hold my own on just about anything I put my mind to. Cale’s understanding of that really made me pleased to help him.
As the band, minus their lead singer, assembled on stage and started making noise while they set up, I was left without purpose or the intuitive knowledge of what to do with myself. Cale was in the mood to explore and I followed him into a room right across from the back stage entrance. It was a small room painted in dark colors and dominated by mismatched furniture. An electric chandelier was the only light in the room and from the arches hung a pair of black pants. I had to laugh at how cliché that seemed. How very “Rock and Roll” it was to walk into a Green Room and find clothing hanging from the chandelier. John, the manager, was loading Heineken into a small display fridge that had been originally meant for Rockstar Energy drinks. Cale smiled and made some comment as to how great it was to be a rock star, the beer came to you. As he set his bass case down and started messing with something, I glanced around the room wondering how three bands worth of people were all going to fit in that room at one time. Only a large stained couch on one wall and several wooden boxes serving as tables were in the room. A couple scattered chairs would hardly make the difference. I figured there had to be another room and put the idea out of my head.
Friendly as ever, John greeted me and struck up an easy conversation while Cale returned to the stage. As with the last time when he had rescued me from the masses at the first show, he seemed very intent on making me feel welcome. This was a definite plus because as I spent more time around the band, the more in the way I was feeling. Peeking around the doorway onto the stage and watching, John dragged me into the middle of things right along with him to make sure everyone knew me by name. After introductions they launched into a song as a primary sound check. It was completely awkward for me to be standing on stage at that moment. Picking my way though the cables I ended up jumping off the edge of the stage to watch more comfortably from there.
I just ended up tailing Cale back to the Green Room for a moment when I saw him floundering with his bass. Every time he hit the power switch, nothing but a big crackle would emit from the speakers. Visions of doom and gloom crowded my head as I watched him play with the battery in his bass. What if he didn’t get it working? What if his bass was broken? Did he have a back up? What would he do? A little juggling and a screw driver was all he ended up needing before heading back out to the stage. I was back to exploring the club while they barked orders at the sound guy, who seemed less than thrilled about his job.
Red lights were the ambience that showed a very Punk Rock oriented Chinese theme. Little golden Buddhas were placed through out the room along with paper lanterns over the lights. Everything just reminded me of some retro hand bag that a girl with liberty spikes and several facial piercings would carry about with her on a daily basis. Literally one large room, the entire club faced the stage leaving only the bathrooms and the back stage area out of the way. A dropped cement dance floor was ringed by a few tables and a long bar dominated the left side of the room. It was obvious that “standing room only” was the sort of crowds this venue was use to dealing with. Nothing said, “sit down and enjoy”. The lay out and even the colors were all directed toward getting you drunk and back to rocking your Mohawk to the music. Even with all of those details I was pleased to find myself there that night. It was nothing like what I had imagined from the outside, but I was inside now and looking forward to a great show.
Turning my attention back to the stage I was impressed by the sound difference, but I knew that had a lot to do with the venue. The first place had just seemed so dead, like it killed the sound before it got to the crowd. Then again I had had a wall of bodies standing in front of me blocking the stage from sight as well as sound. This place had a much larger stage area and better system. All of that aside this was a different band as well. The most obvious change was the confidence of the players. They were much tighter musically and visibly more comfortable with each other. It was a great thing to witness and made me eager to see how Chela fit into this mix and see how much she had grown as well.
Satisfied with the sound for the time being, Georgetown filed off stage and settled down in the Green Room to start mingling with the other bands that were just starting to load in. As tiny as the Green Room was, it was about to get worse as the gear got stacked in every precarious position possible to allow instrument and human to co-exist semi-comfortably in that little room. Doing our best to stay out of the way I was surprised to watch the members of the other bands drinking through the Heineken as if it had been placed there just for them. For some reason the mentality in operation there was that really stressed me out. It just didn’t seem right. I don’t even drink beer! What did it matter? The bar wasn’t open yet and I’m sure no one really put a sign on the fridge that said for ‘Chela and Georgetown Only’.
After a couple phone calls from Chela, who had just broken up with her long term boyfriend, it was clear that it would still be a while before she arrived. We all started to joke about what would happen if she didn’t show up at all. Who would sing the lyrics? The idea of one of the guys singing her rather female oriented words made for a good laugh. They were all different looking characters in the long run, but truly it was a ridiculous idea. Silence descended after that good laugh and again I was staring about the room wondering what to do with myself. Leo had taken off with John to get more beer and to get another snare stand for his drum kit. The one he had wasn’t going to hold up through the show. So far the night was not going very well for the band equipment wise. This left J.C. and the two of us talking about whatever came to mind. Only really talking with J.C. for a moment during the last show, he seemed such a goofy, laid back person wearing his heart on his sleeve when it came to making music. As much fun as it was to sit and chat with J.C. the room was starting to fill up fast and the pot pipe was about to get passed around. In and out of the room Cale and I seemed to be pacing which only lead to being in someone else’s way.
A shorter man that had a t-shirt declaring that he worked for the club stomped by us multiple times while we stood out in the hall way. He was having an absolute fit about the back door being propped open. We both tried to look uninvolved with the whole scene. It was then that we started noticing little signs every where that listed more “Don’ts” for the club. For as many don’ts posted there was some sort of evidence showing that no one had either read or had caused this sign into being in the first place. Even though this venue was way better kept that the first place I had seen the band play, there was still just an air of abused from the backstage. Band stickers were coating the door to the bathroom in the Green Room. The Green Room itself looked like it had seen better days. The hallway where we stood looked only of chipped red paint where I’m sure sound equipment had been scraped through night after night.
When I stepped back from the immediate surroundings and really looked around me, the club really didn’t seem to like bands on the whole and the property had been noticeably trashed on multiple occasions. Like I had said about the pants hanging from the chandelier, it seemed rather cliché “Rock and Roll” to think that bands still got horribly drunk and trashed places just for hell of it. It was enlightening in a way to ponder that maybe bands were the scum of the earth for the people that worked at this venue, having had to deal with them constantly. And yet that was pretty much the life’s blood of the club. Without the rowdy asshole bands, these people wouldn’t be employed. Weird Catch-22.
Chela had arrived in the meantime with her legendarily large family and best friend Kimmy in tow. Moving about the room, we all received hugs from her and as she stood in the center of the room she fielded questions about her emotional state from the rest of the band. These guys had really come to care a lot about her; that was very clear. Every single one of them was concerned and on level that had nothing to do with her performance that night. She on the other hand seemed light hearted about the situation and eager to focus her mind on the show ahead.
Back on stage the group as a whole headed to do a full sound check with Chela’s wireless microphone. Around the front I followed behind Kimmy who seemed to be such a veteran of the whole affair. Perfectly confident in any surrounding she plopped down on the nearest chair and started screaming encouragement to her friend.
Even dressed in jeans and a Puma track jacket, it wasn’t tough to see the major changes that Chela had gone through as well. Pacing about singing along to the song the band was using as a sound check, her focus was immediately on her little notebook of lyrics. At one point they seemed to forget about the sound check and drop into some last minute practice time. Seated on the floor with pen in hand, it seemed Chela was still working some last minute kinks out of a song they planned to perform later that night. Less than pleased about that, even after a couple run throughs, she was not shy about voicing her concern. She was quickly shut down. The boys oozed with confidence and assured her that whatever she did would work out fine.
Cale had mentioned that she wrote the lyrics to her own songs. That was something that’s always intrigued me, but I’ve never been able to wrap my mind around the process that must go in to it. I write these blogs, I write fiction, and I’ve even tried my hand at poetry, but lyrics are something I just don’t think I could ever write. I admire them completely, thus is why I post them here. They say the things that I’m not eloquently able to say. Putting meaning into word that also fits with melody just seemed so out of this world that I marveled at anyone who could do it.
Crammed back into the Green Room I found myself watching a rather spirited game of Dominoes or “Bones” being started up. Having the courage to move to the empty end of the rather gross looking couch, I watched how easily the camaraderie was struck up between Georgetown and the other bands as they were sucked into the game and continued drinking through the beers. At one point I watched J.C. leave the room and another guy find his pipe just lying on the table. Straight for a lighter the guy went, taking what he wanted of this commodity as well. I tried not to think about it too hard. Talk flowed back and forth about past shows along with the upcoming one.
Chela and John returned to the Green Room looking less than pleased. Apparently the club had charged them a fee to post signs, signs that advertised the gig they were about to perform. None of the signs had been posted and yet the fee was still to come out of the money the band would make for the night. Added to that frustration was the wasted money that had gone into the making of the signs in the first place. John also confirmed that the bands wish to move up their stage time had been denied. The idea had been to play closer to ten o’clock when they figured the majority of the crowd would be milling about on the dance floor. It also freed them all up to head out after the show at a much earlier time. It was a Sunday night. Any crowd would be a small one and everyone in the band had jobs the next morning. Helpful or not, the idea was still vetoed by the club.
After that announcement everyone went back to what they were doing. When Cale suggested we walk down to the IHOP we had passed on the way up to the club I was all for it. I was starving in the end, but I needed a break from the claustrophobia of that dark little room and the ranting of the little man who was taping up another “Don’t” out in the hallway.
Still no sign of rain, the clouds were heavy above us as we hiked down the hill to the IHOP. The weather had every intention of opening up; it was just a matter of time. The restaurant was a lot farther than I had remembered and I was a little paranoid about the whole thing taking too long. What if Cale was needed for another sound check or a million other things that I had no idea about? Hell, what if it started to rain? Being on foot, it just seemed a little out of the way for us to marching away from the club for.
The band never needed him, but did begin to rain. It absolutely poured the minute our food arrived. The silly optimism that the rain would stop as quickly as it had started proved to be useless. No sign of it letting up could be found. Back through the wall of water we ran, getting almost soaked through by the time we reached the club. Cale used the opportunity to change into his gig attire while I curled up in an open spot on the floor feeling cold and nasty. Besides awkward, now I felt like a drowned rat. Hard to be social at that point. I’m so hard core about first impressions and my appearance is the one thing I’m the most insecure about. When I’m confident about my outward appearance, it flows into confidence about my interactions with people. I knew that I looked like I had just gotten soaked and there was nothing I could really do about it. So in the floor I continued to sit, thinking dry thoughts.
The boys were playing their game and Chela had pulled up her hood like a “Do Not Disturb” sign. The game was interesting enough to watch. The trash talking that was going back and forth between bands was funny of course and watching Leo operate his mojo on Kimmy was even better. Wanting to learn how the game was played Leo immediately shifted over and offered up part of his seat, part that was small enough to leave her pressed up against him. Then it became the ultimate text book situation. Around her went his arms to help her hold the dominoes and into her ear he was whispering his helpful info. Classic.
It was still hours before anything useful would happen for any of these guys. Being the headliners and having already set their gear up on stage, the other bands were going to use that equipment as well. That did not make Cale pleased. The bass player of the other band was older and after the focus on the destruction that the club had experienced in the past it was tough not to feel worried about your personal belongings. Even after Cale talked to the guy I knew he would be right in the front row watching the guys every move while they were on stage.
Chela and Kimmy disappeared to socialize with family out in the club as well as get dressed for the show. The other guys were already in their gig attire and looking rather sharp for that matter. Back to the dominoes went the boys and John ran in and out of the room grabbing beers and whatever else Chela needed. He made her seem like such a diva as he ran his little errands. “Chela needs a beer. There had better be one left!” In the couple times that I had really interacted with her, she was ANYTHING but a diva. When John disappeared I was then watching Cale who was restless and the beer was running low. I could tell he was antsy to go on stage and yet eager to kick back with his band and drink beers like everyone else. I felt so out of place sitting in that room. The club hadn’t opened its doors yet and Chela was becoming a glamorous front woman with the help of Kimmy. I just ended up following behind Cale as he moved from the back hallway to the Green Room. I had brought my camera in order to take better pictures of this gig. The last one had been terrible shots around people’s heads. I wanted something he could send to his parents back in Oregon, who must have been sad to be missing such a great opportunity.
Out in the hallway we watched the techs running back and forth between the stage and the back office. I took a couple of pictures but mostly just kept Cale company while he drank from his beer and tried to relax. The club opened to the public and from what we could see from our view point through the stage, there was no pressing demand beating down the door. There was a ton of people from Chela’s family already mingling and drinking. In a way she’d brought a ready made audience. For that that I guess it didn’t really matter what time they started their set. The first band still wasn’t set to go on for an hour. Time seemed to stretch out in front of us. What the hell were going to do to pass the time. Everyone was going to end up drunk before they even starting playing music.
Standing across from each other in the hallway, the short guy came back to find the door propped open again. Giving us a nasty glare we sort of ignored him knowing that it had been one of the other bands that had completely disregarded his so largely lettered sign. Yet with the dirty look came a look of suspicion. He eyed the two of us up like we might have just wandered in from off the street because that back door had been left open against his wishes. Storming past us back into the club, we sort of shrugged at each other and wondered how he had survived being so uptight about stuff all the time. Back around the corner came a different employee that eyed us both with surprise. Large mag-lite in his hand as if he had expected a fight, there was no pause for him to ask for our ID’s. It all happened so quickly, but I remember looking at Cale and knowing we were in deep shit.
Being the first to hand over my ID it was quickly returned to me. Good or not, I am well past twenty-one for this to be a problem. Cale on the other hand had something to sweat about. I had to admire the guy, calm and collected he shifted his beer to the other hand and dug out his driver’s license. Not even a look of concern passed his face when he handed it over to the bouncer knowing the ultimate ending to the situation. The bouncer stared at it for several moments as if he couldn’t quite figure out the information he needed. Looking up from the ID, there was a moment when I honestly thought the guy would just hand it back and walk away. Instead he looked Cale up and down and replied, “Well we’ve got a problem here.” The bottom totally dropped out of my stomach. I had no idea what would happen from this point on. Taking Cale’s beer from him, the bouncer placed it on the stairs in the entrance of the stage and told Cale that he had to leave the building immediately. Back and forth they argued about the fact that Cale was a member of a band waiting to perform that night. It was clear he wasn’t about to believe a word Cale said from that point on. He had to talk to a manager before he would take Cale’s word.
Back into the Green Room we trooped, a sense of panic running through both of us. John was tracked down and off he went with the bouncer to “have a chat”. Crunched up on the couch I felt like I was in trouble too, my stomach was churning with worry and my heart was beating like crazy. What if he couldn’t play the gig? What would the band do? What if this pissed off the people in charge of the band? What if this got Cale in huge trouble? What if they kicked him out of the band for this? My mind was running through every possible dire outcome. Cale looked absolutely stricken. Waiting there was like sitting outside the principles office. The rest of the band was less than encouraging. Even though they assured him John would take care of it, they pointed out the obvious more than once. “You never should have left the room.”
Back in the room the two walked, John’s look of frustration did nothing to bring hope to the situation. Mag-lite still in one hand and rudely pointing at Cale, the bouncer beckoned him like a dog and walked back out to stand in the hallway. Following close behind, I felt I had a right to know what was happening since Cale was my ride and I had been in the hallway with him in the first place. He could play his gig as scheduled, but he could not be in the building in the mean time, that was the decision handed down. No matter how John had tried to negotiate around it, nothing could be done. Cale had to leave NOW. I was in shock, yet thankful that nothing worse was going to happen. Then it hit me. What the hell we were going to do for something close to three hours? I wasn’t going to just let them banish him outside alone. It was my every intention to keep him company.
Back into the room I went to try and prep at least for his departure. The band seemed rather unconcerned about it. Cale looked like he was about to explode into a thousand different directions. J.C. jumped up to hand over his gig bag after piling several beers in it for Cale to take. Everyone else in the room just sort of stared at me as I left the room. The other bands seemed apologetic but mostly just amused. I was wondering what sort of person I’d be dealing with when I got out side.
Barely under the cover of the roof from the back door, John and Cale stood huddled out of the rain. I damn near hit John with the door as I hurried out to find them. Cale just stood looking as if something had died while John cursed and paced trying to explain that he had tried his best. The rain was still coming down like crazy, so it was tough to think we were just going to go somewhere else to kill time. Walking was out of the question and driving meant losing the parking spot for load out. So to the truck we went with, turning the heat on high I dug out the beers J.C. had sent me with and handed one over. I was so out of my element. I did not agree with the fact that Cale had this penchant for wandering around with a beer like he was of age. The fact that we had just gotten thrown out of a club because he had gotten caught was shocking, but for me to be handing over a beer while we sat in his car just seemed to be making the whole situation worse. The police would not be as kind.
There we sat for several hours while Cale went through every range of emotion a semi-intoxicated twenty year old could have in that situation. Several times I wondered why I had been so intent on keeping him company. Then again the idea of sitting in that club knowing he was out in his truck having this fit alone would have bothered me more. He was upset at himself, he was angry with the bouncer, but most of all he was angry that he couldn’t be spending time with his band. Going on stage to perform really meant getting your game face on and having your mind on the set. Last minute changes could be happening without him. Heck he couldn’t even be there to watch the other bass player in case the guy messed with something. He had no idea what he’d be walking into when they did allow him back into the building.
The total feeling of isolation was becoming thick as he started to calm down. Rolling down the windows we could hear the bands play from the speakers outside the club. That was really more depressing than anything else so back up the windows went. We did end up having an intelligent conversation to pass the time. He just needed to plot the death of the bouncer a couple more times to feel better about the whole thing. Each member of the band called from time to time to check on him, offering to come hang out if he needed them. I thought that was really awesome. The rest of the guys did care about him; he wasn’t some kid that got into trouble.
When the call came that show time was upon them, through the rain we went again, entering the building through the back door that we weren’t suppose to open. Everything was a flurry of motion. The band before them was loading off their gear and the rest were all getting ready to take over the stage. I got washed aside in this flow of people rushing to do the tasks at hand. Before heading into the Green Room for a last minute pow-wow I made sure to give Cale a hug for good luck. It was like a light switch, his eyes were bright and excited and his whole demeanor was that of total energy. I knew he’d be fine and from the enfolding response the rest of the band had for him as we walked through that back door I knew that they were a tight unit whether he had been out in the truck or sitting there watching them play Bones.
Wandering around the corner and out into the club I was really surprised to see how empty the place was. Mr. Mag-lite was manning the front door, but seemed more involved in a conversation with a cocktail waitress than anything else. It was a little upsetting to watch him completely ignore people walking into the club when he had been the ID Nazi. It was over now and something that I needed to put out of my mind. The tables were all take up and the far corner I could tell was Chela’s family. John was in the thick of them talking and laughing. I just sort of placed myself out of the way on the dance floor where a steel pipe marked the corner. One shoulder against that and I dug out my camera to be ready when they came on stage.
The show went really well. Chela came out wearing this amazingly daring crimson halter top that showed off her assets. The rest of the band moved about and really interacted with each other this time. A stage presence was being born. The sound was awesome. Every single person had talent and it was starting to really take shape in correlation with the other members of this project. Cale was so young compared to the rest of Georgetown. Lynval had reached the ultimate achievement of Rock Star. Both Leo and J.C. had been doing this sort thing for ten or more years. Yet there Cale was right in the middle of them all holding his own and standing out for that matter. It really made me proud to watch him dance about the stage and play like his heart and soul were in it.
This was my first shot at trying to dance to reggae. For as much as I talk about House Music and Hip Hop, I really appreciate just about anything. In my collection at home I have everything a person could imagine. One of my ex’s had been from Hawaii so a lot of reggae had been played through that relationship. To my estimation, Reggae music wasn’t absolutely foreign to me. As soon as I realized I was taking a lot of pictures early in the set, I put my camera away and did my best to feel the music. Dancing normally came easily to me, no matter the music, yet it was sort of disturbing when I felt like a fish out of water. Listening to it, moving to it, and dancing to it were entirely different matters. I had bobbed my head to this beat in the car while driving on sunny days back in College. Yet as I tried to apply my style of dance to this music, I just felt like a badly handled marionette.
Stopping again to take more pictures, it was truly bothering me as to why I hadn’t just fallen into my usual dancing expression. Had I become as narrow minded as I had pondered in the past? Had I really stuck so closely to one type of music and how to dance to it that I was incapable of doing anything else? Was my talent really tied to one sort of expression? I really hoped that I could answer “no” to all of those questions. Watching for a bit as other people started to dance along to the music I fell back on tactics I had forgotten. I was no dance expert. That was just silly. What I needed to do was take a mental step back and realize I had something new to learn. Watching others move to the music would teach me more than floundering about wondering why I didn’t understand my problems. Letting go of everything I really held to as apart of my “style” I really just melted back into feeling the beat and watching the show. It was different, but different was good. That meant I was learning something new.
Near the end of the show I noticed a professional photographer taking a million different shots of the stage. From the front the camera looked like the usual sort that someone from the paparazzi would have chased down Lynval with. Yet it was a fancy digital camera that meant, because I was standing behind him, I could see what the shot was that he had just taken. The majority of the shots were of Cale and Chela and I had to smile. So young and already he was a rock star drawing the media’s eye. Chela’s mom went over to get information from him before he left. But he wasn’t the only flash bulb popping during the show. Chela’s mother was a fiend with the camera. Seeming to be everywhere at once, she was taking every imaginable angle that a picture of her daughter could be taken. I could only grin and step out of the woman’s way as pride absolutely exploded from her with every click of the shutter. A girl I recognized to be a member of the Asian girl band they had played for at the first gig, was pacing directly in front of the stage holding her cell phone in Chela’s and Lynval’s face, taking pictures that way. Damn distracting and annoying I thought. Here I was staying out of other people’s ways trying to get some good shots, and she was in the middle of things shoving a cell phone in the band members faces.
After the last song I hurried around the corner to the Green Room to congratulate the band on a job very well done. I remember thinking how out of place I had felt earlier coming and going into places I felt were for the band only. Now here I was heading directly backstage without a second thought. Part of it was that I had no idea how much of an asshole Mr. Mag-lite would be about making sure Cale was directly out of the building now that the show was over. Opening the door to the Green Room was like walking in on a party. Members of the other bands that had stuck around were shaking hands and slapping backs with Georgetown. I ran into Chela first and gave her a big hug. I felt really close to her suddenly and I was so proud to have seen her make such huge progress as a singer. The show had been a great example of her raw talent and proof that a great performer was there deep inside waiting to get out.
Cale was surrounded by the boys in the band that were handing him beers to chug before someone came back stage to kick him out. I had to sigh at the fact that he had been caught once at this and been thrown out not three hours earlier. Now there he was chugging down one last beer in defiance. I stood at the door thinking that it would hit me like an alarm if a bouncer tried to come through to check on Cale. The door did hit me but it did nothing to stall Cale from getting caught a second time. “Hey! Get your gear and go. Put the beer down!” Rolling my eyes I just didn’t understand why Cale wanted to keep pushing the envelope.
I gathered up his belongings from the Green Room and waited in the back hallway to see what Cale needed from me next. He stood ever so nonchalantly pulling cables and power cords from his gear and chatting with Leo as he took down his drum kit. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a completely different bouncer head up on the stage and talk with Cale. John had wandered up to talk to me about how great he thought Cale was, but my attention was completely focused on the conversation happening on stage. Where they going to yell at him again? Were they going to kick him out and say someone else had to haul the gear? What was that all about? Cutting John off I hurried up on stage to see what had been said when the bouncer walked away. Cale shrugged and continued packing up his stuff. The guy had apologized for the conduct of the other bouncer and had explained why Cale had been tossed out so thoroughly. Ironically it was for the same reason I had expressed during his little freak out in the truck. The Liquor Board was famous for walking through clubs and checking IDs. Clubs got huge fines if something was found amiss. Fines so large it could close the club down completely. It was just too bad that the logical explanation came so much later.
The rest of the group was staying to hang out and drink. I felt sad that Cale was essentially being kicked out and kept from hanging out with his band mates yet again. The rain had stopped mercifully and stood guard, more sat on the tail gate, while I waited for him to say his goodbyes.
The night had been fraught with problems, both personal and musical, but the show they had done was enough to convince me that the band was going to be famous very soon. They had the talent and, with time, they would be putting on an amazing stage show. Only time would tell.

Night of the Living Dead

The last time my friend Renzo and I went out on the town, we’d had a pretty good time. As I said before, dancing was where we met and what we can always fall back on for a good time. The man is an amazing dancer and someone I love to go out and kick it with. I just wish the Army would stop sending him to other states and countries. It really puts a cramp on our friendship.
Even though we had talked about taking his motorcycle, I knew it was a bad idea. The nights were getting colder and I didn’t want to be dragging gear into the club. Even if we made it through the night without issues, the ride home would leave me completely frozen. I remember not regretting that we had changed our minds when he rolled up to my apartment in his little convertible Toyota Celica. Just the jog from my door to the car was cold enough to make me thankful for two more wheels and some doors. I’ve also got this fascination with his car (long story), so any time I ride in it I feel darn special.
Heading out to the city for the night we had our usual chit chat about what was going on in our lives. We had been hanging out more as of late: going for motorcycle rides, watching movies, just generally chillin’. As compared to the last time we’d gone out dancing, we were way more involved each other’s lives. No awkwardness to get past. It was a whole lot easier to look forward to the night that way, instead of just surviving the next five minutes.
It was a Thursday night that we were trying to launch into. I had told him about my good times from the past months and looked forward to dragging him with me this time. A new club and a new scene, he wanted to get back into the groove again. Dealing with an ending marriage and being away for so long, the man was ready to be a functioning member of the twenty-something world. One stop I knew we had to make was Club Medusa, the DJ friend of mine that was the Entertainment Guru over there had been the resident DJ down south at the club we had been residents at ourselves.
My official destination though was The Last Supper Club. It was Open House night which meant no cover and some damn fine House music would be flying off the turntables as fast as they could put it on. Earlier in the week I had heard DJ Hyperfunk spinning on c98.5 FM and he had totally promoted himself for that coming Thursday. It had been a while since I had danced to one of his sets and I had totally missed him the last time I went out with Patrick . I hoped that Renzo would at least stick it out for a little while with me and then we’d head out to where ever else in order to make him happy. His penchant for Hip Hop in order to go dancing was our only source of contention. He’d put up with my House music for a little while but I knew full well that he’d only be patient for so long.
Parking on the street, along the back side of the triangular garage that I’m always so hot to leave my car in, the two of us jogged across the street and made our way down the block to Last Supper Club. There seemed to be a line already in front of Trinity, I filed that knowledge away for when Renzo got his restless itch for Hip Hop. Knowing that we could just head around the corner to achieve that particular goal was better than aimlessly driving through the city trying to brainstorm. Onward to the club, we moved straight through the ID check and into the club without much of a hesitation. I still wish that I could make friends with the guy at the door. I’m sure it’ll never happen, but I always get my hopes up every time he checks my ID rather speedily and gives me this half smile of recognition. I’m sure my face registers as someone that is there often. I’m no Rock Star at this place by any means. All it takes is just one weird moment that happens by chance. Then again that chance is exponentially increased by being the girl I use to be: a dancer that is out on the town at every available opportunity. Also required is for me to be walking through the door making idle chit chat every freakin’ night. Not so anymore, and I waltz into the club trying to put that thought behind me.
Once past the velvet curtain that divides the club from the outside world, I was a little disappointed with the looks of the room. That was partly my fault for digging Renzo out so early in the evening. For some reason I had been eager to get a start on the dancing festivities. Then again I was use to things going wrong and one of us running behind. Not so this night. Both of us were looking good and ready to party on time. Looking over my shoulder I caught Renzo’s gaze as he assessed the club. Never a big clubber in the city, any place he had gone had been through me at one point or another. Renzo had turned into the ultimate bar sort of fellow since he had been back. Watching the game and having a beer with some friends is fun, don’t get me wrong. In fact I miss it now that I’m no longer in college. But I’ve always seen Renzo as a dancer and it seemed like such a waste for him to be sitting around while music was playing.
It was pretty obvious that he took the empty room as an early sign of trouble. I tried to smile encouragingly and moved toward the bar with confidence. My plan was to make him think that the lack of human presence was all apart of my usual routine. Besides parking him in front of the bar could distract him enough to get us through to the busier part of the night. A crowded dance floor was something I could put money on, it just didn’t happen for another hour or two. Again I was wondering what the heck I was thinking when I started us out so early. Well for now we had free parking to show for my early start. That didn’t really count for much once inside the club.
His usual beer in his hand, Renzo and I stood looking around the bar feeling the same sort of dismay. It really was empty. The ride up had us all hyped up to start doing something. Drinking seemed like a step back from where we had been at when we walked through the door. So there we stood wishfully staring around the room like this would make people appear. Usually quite good to me should I get brave enough to ask, I had no inclination to drink at all that night. I was totally focused on dancing. I hadn’t heard from Jimmy in forever and I was determined to do some serious dancing while I was out with someone who understood. Renzo was a great influence on the floor whether partnered up or the two of us were doing our thing separately; watching his passion in dancing was the reflection of how I felt as I moved.
Dancing was the last thing happening at that moment. There were a total of ten people other than us on the main floor and three of them were bartenders. Settling down at a table that gave us front row seats to the dance floor, Renzo seemed a little too focused on his Corona. I ended up staring at the floor, following the swirling lights and hoping the DJ would set up soon. We weren’t even talking; all conversation had stopped as both of us seemed like strangers sitting at the same table.
Thankfully it wasn’t too long before the DJ did set up. I had been hoping that it would be Hyperfunk so that I could catch him before Renzo got bored. No such luck, but from the first record that the guy dropped I could tell it would be a good night. Yet as things got into full swing and I did my nervous little edge from bouncing in my seat to standing by the table, still no dancing was happening. It was like an invisible rope of self consciousness had tied me to the table. As much as I would move forward trying to get myself started I would just feel the tug back toward sitting down. There was a pretty consistent trickle of people coming through the door yet it was all defusing into the seating areas and pooling around the bar. Still no life to be seen on the floor.
Some girls went out on the floor to dance and Renzo and I resorted back to our usual catty pastime that revolved around judging other people’s talent. It was more than obvious that I wanted to go dance, and for the first time Renzo started verbally shoving my ass in that direction. Normally it was every man for him self. “Don’t want to dance? It’s your loss and I’ll make it look better.” As I watched the other people move about the floor with a lot less coordination than I knew I had, I was really struggling. “Get your butt out there! Who cares what those girls think, they can’t dance at all. Go show them how it’s done. It’s about doing what you love anyway. Get out there already!” I was so surprised that he was being that encouraging, I had to jump right up and head to the center of the floor.
There’s always this precarious moment when the people that were dancing, part around me or move farther away than they already were. My terrible self image automatically tells me that I look like a rubber chicken and I should run to the bathroom immediately to hide. Where I would normally take that advice to its fullest extent, for some reason dancing has this kill switch that stops me a second prior to fleeing. Something makes me stand my ground and continue on as I was without so much as a care in the world. The dance floor can really be like sweet little scene in a forest glen. I have this terrible habit of stomping through to the middle and scaring off all the timid little animals. But if I stay where I am for long enough, the wildlife will eventually return.
When Renzo jumped out there and joined me I was a happy kid. I knew that we could start that dance floor without a problem. Most girls, once they see how well he dances, start flocking out in droves to get his attention. I didn’t care for what reason they came out as long as they danced for a DJ that was doing a great job. Opening slots always just suck. You get the freedom to play what you want since there’s no fear of scaring people off the floor. Then again it’s tough when you’re spinning stuff that would have them tearing it up normally but it’s just too early in the night for there to either be people or people drunk enough to tear it up. Sad waste of DJ talent, if you ask me.
Taking a break and standing by the half wall that separates the dance floor from a seating area, Renzo and I watched the floor we had managed to start up. There was a respectable population out there and more people were flowing in from the outside world. Looking over I noticed a crew of people walk in the door like rock stars and I was excited to see them all. DJ Omar had been very involved in the scene I had once called home down south. Suffering the same way all DJ’s had in that particular area, his heart was always in the House music, but to survive it was Hip Hop the people wanted to hear. An awesome dancer I had seen him a million times on the floor at a House night that a bunch of locals had gotten together to try to create. Nothing had ever come of it, but I had taken Jimmy with me several times.
My clearest memory was formally meeting DJ Omar for the first time and he stated that he recognized me from way back as a great supporter on the dance floor, but that he knew Jimmy had to be from up north. When we asked why, his response blew me away. “He’s wearing black shoes. No one around here wears shoes like that.” Something as simple as wearing black shoes and dressing nice to go out dancing made us stick out. What a ghetto world that scene had become. Jerseys and baseball caps were dressing up. Getting shot was just apart of the cover charge. Damn I’m glad I moved.
Beside Omar was a girl that had been with him for as long as I can remember. I don’t believe they’ve ever been an item, just someone close to the group and a great dancer in her own right. I’ve never learned her name but she’s always recognized me. Omar would mention that a great DJ would be in town and she would be the one to fill me on the details, making sure that I got a flyer. The rest I knew to be promoters for their label and other hangers on. The welcome I received from the crew, as they passed by, was nothing more than a lukewarm acknowledgement. Watching them move through the room, I was reminded that I was not quite the active member of the scene as I use to be. On the opposite side I was happy to know that I was still recognizable.
Renzo and I stayed for a while longer, but it was obvious that Hyperfunk wasn’t going to be spinning until well after midnight. I nodded to Renzo’s “lets leave” gesture and we grabbed our coats to head out. I was almost sad to leave. On a normal basis I would have been perfectly happy to just spend the rest of the night right there. Just another testament toward my “clubbing alone” stand point. No one but your own pleasures to indulge.
Back in the car we jumped and headed across town to the next club of choice. The parking lot that I had gotten use to stowing my car for free was looking totally disserted, as was the rest of the area. There was no life at the door and I knew that most of the cars had to be overflowing from the million little places just one street up. I paid for parking in order to calm Renzo’s fears about leaving his baby unattended to, and hurried down the block to the club. In a way I understood. A friend of mine had had his car towed out of that lot without any warning. That was the last thing I wanted to deal with.
The bouncer at the door checked our ID’s and mumbled something about there being no cover charge. I was excited that we were getting a heck of deal. Once through the door I understood what the real story was.
It had been several months since the last time I had gone to Medusa with James. Things did not look like it was business as usual. The only part lit was the entrance. From the large Greek soldier statue: the coat check, the first bar, the entire seating area up to the entrance into the dance floor area was dark, closed down and abandoned. Moving through the darkened sections that I was so use to seeing massive bodies crammed into was a little like being in a horror movie. Where had all the people gone? What did they all know that we didn’t? The music pumping from the dance floor seemed more that awesome to me. What the heck was wrong with this city?
In the booth stood my friend and the speakers were blasting with what I considered to be great fortune. The musical trends on the radio as of late had been including great songs from the 70’s remixed. Who could ask for more? Songs I loved as a kid, redone with house beats. The DJ was doing an entire set of this stuff!
The population was absolutely sparse and there was just such an overwhelming feeling of abandonment and loneliness. I’m not sure if that was because I was so use to seeing the room filled to fire capacity by midnight, or if it really was just so empty that it was impossible to feel content. A little over ten people in this room and the clock was striking the magical hour, which meant that pretty much guaranteed this was the best this crowd was going to get. Any sense of hope was missing.
The idea of a drink was vetoed so we just sat off to the side and watched the other people move from the dance floor to the bar. It was obvious that the majority of group was a part of some party, probably a birthday. They would gather up in a big circle on the dance floor and close themselves off to the rest of the world. I was getting frustrated with Renzo sitting and looking bored with the set that I felt was absolutely the greatest thing I’d heard in a while. The two of us danced for a bit, but I knew it wasn’t going to last.
Dancing on that floor, it wasn’t hard to picture yourself as the only person in the club. Looking up to the balconies that have always had Go-Go Dancers in them, I remembered a time when all I had ever wanted was to be included in their ranks. Medusa had always been the place that had dancers that really danced. None of that sashaying thing that drives me nuts. Pacing around in boots too tall to walk in does not count as dancing for a crowd. The more I looked around the more memories came to mind. I had been dancing on that floor since January of ’03 when I officially met the DJ that was spinning at present. Janai and I had been inseparable back then, living every moment with too little sleep. Sadness always washes over me when I remember that nothing lasts.
When the birthday party group baled out leaving four people and a bartender, as much as I hated to leave, I followed Renzo dutifully down the hall and back out to the car. It was disappointing to see my friend spinning music that he loved for such a terrible turn out and, for my own selfishness, that I had paid ten freakin’ dollars for parking when we had spent less than an hour at Medusa.
Heading back to Trinity I knew there would be a crowd and Hip Hop. My research from earlier in the night had paid off. Parking along the street that ran right by the club, it was nice to know that no more cash would be wasted in case we decided to call it a night. I hate how paid parking works. The whole concept is probably one of the greatest achievements of Capitalism. Take a commodity that people can’t get elsewhere and make them pay a lot for it. There’s no sense of competition that would keep prices reasonable. After giving in and paying whatever the fee is for parking, not even necessarily close, there’s this terrible sense of justification I always have to have. If I paid for the whole damn night, then my car is going to sit in that spot all damn night which is completely unreasonable. There have been a few times that I stayed out longer than I had intended just because I had scraped together enough money for the parking and wanted to feel like I really used what I paid for. On the other hand for about two years, when Janai moved to the city, I learned how little most pay lots are even checked. I straight up stopped paying for parking. When I did get a ticket, the cost was still less than if I had been paying for parking that whole time. I was still ahead. Most companies have gotten so ripped off now that a car will be towed pretty much without any hesitation. That’s the absolute last thing I want to deal with. Go dancing and come out to an empty parking lot; that whole drama would end up a whole lot more pricey in the long run. So needless to say I’ve gone back to being as honest of a citizen as I can afford.
Walking through the door, we were faced with yet another scene that I was so use to seeing crowded and yet there were only a handful of people. The people that had been lined up earlier had apparently all made an early night of it. The dance floor had some established dancers but it was still pretty thin. Having been there several times to meet Patrick I was starting to recognize regulars. One guy in particular that I had described before as being a sort of skater looking guy that just rocked out to Hip Hop, was there again that night.
After all the back and forth from club to club and being disappointed for the third time that night I was feeling both awkward and pretty down about the situation. Here I was trying to show Renzo a good time and we’d ended up in three failures. As I followed him to stand on the sidelines of the dance floor I just felt so incredibly distant from him. I knew he wasn’t having the night he had hoped for and I was upset that I didn’t exactly know the weeknight scene as well as I thought I had. On the other hand I could have stayed at Last Supper and had been perfectly content for all of eternity. The same could have gone for Club Medusa, I would have felt pretty exposed dancing there all night but maybe I would have gotten the chance to chat with my DJ friend. The music would have been enough to hold me there. Now there I was at Trinity and unhappy for too many silly reasons.
To add to my night, several girls who I’m sure had had plenty to drink came trooping down the ramp and onto the dance floor. What is it about girls that rub all over each other to a song and claim that’s dancing? It’s always pissed me off and I continue to ponder whether it’s female jealousy over the amount of immediate male attention that’s achieved by such actions or if it’s female disapproval. I hate how girls think they have to act all slutty to get a guy interested. Being naughty is different. You can grind on a guy without promising anything. It’s just kinda naughty. When you’re dry humping another girl on the dance floor that’s pretty much an advertisement of your intentions. As I watch these girls straddling each other along with several other interesting moves that would be better off showcased with Swing dancing, I got pretty grouchy. Whether it had caught Renzo’s attention it didn’t really matter, the whole scene was like a car accident. How could you not stare?
I also noticed he was checking the room for viable candidates, more than he usually did. Renzo has this very slick way of just casting his eyes about the room and taking in all the information. After a decision is made he simply walks over and starts dancing or talking to the girl. That’s how we met and over the years I had watched him in action, I knew his tactics. Respectful of our friendship I started to step away from him and go out to dance without him. I didn’t want to be a “cock block” on top of everything else that had happened that night.
For some reason as I started to dance I ended up catching that skater guy’s attention. He started making his way toward me and was being persistent. He seemed like such a nice guy and for the last few weeks I had been watching him get turned down by girls. Then again I didn’t really feel like dancing with him either so I wasn’t going to be much better in the long run. At this point I didn’t have the energy to humor him. Renzo was on the floor doing what he does best, and yet I was paying more attention to where the skater guy was in relation to me so that I didn’t give him any encouragement. In the end it didn’t matter. Pulling the usual flanking maneuver, he was dancing up on me from behind before I could evade. He wasn’t a terrible dancer, but still I wasn’t interested. Renzo was laughing at me for several moments until he saw my pleading eyes. I’ve always prided myself on being able to just bluntly handle that sort of situation. This time I didn’t want to be a total jerk.
Reaching out his hand, Renzo took mine and tried to twirl me away. Like a total dork I miss read the direction he was trying to turn me and bashed straight into him. Trying to recover my dignity I ducked under his arm and did my best to dance off like I had meant to do that. All I got out of it was feeling totally retarded that I had made that kind of dance mistake and still looked like I was running away from the other guy.
Skater guy came back again while I was standing along the wall. He showered me with compliments on what great dancer I was and how he had seen me the last few times. “I’m not a great dancer I know, but I want to get better and by dancing with you I could learn.” Wow I felt like shit. It was probably a line, but every time in the past I had seen him, he danced with a passion I admired and was not easily faked. What the motivation was behind the dancing I didn’t know. Maybe all he wanted was to get laid, that was none of my concern. I thanked him and played out with the tired/resting vibe that I always tell guys.
In all honesty I was done for the night. I wasn’t feeling the music and I wasn’t feeling the crowd. Renzo seemed to be warming up and yet winding down. When the object of his attentions didn’t really respond to his charm, we headed out for the night.
The drive back I just felt so down about the whole situation. I apologized left and right for not having a better idea what we would be facing when we headed out so early. Even though he placated me, I could still feel his disappointment as well. A hug goodbye and the slow walk to my door, I knew that it would be a while before we went dancing again. And so it goes, the Clubbing Queen couldn’t win them all.

Last Late Night

It seems that whenever my friend Patrick calls me up its nothing but a long drawn out game of phone tag. It’s also a very late night. That day had been long at work and I had said my last goodbyes to my friend James. Sending him off to medical school in Arizona with a hug and a CD of pictures, I waved rather sadly as I watched his big truck disappear into the city towing the little trailer that would hold all his belongings for the journey south. I remember feeling very sad that I didn’t have some new exciting educational prospects ahead of me. Jealousy gripped me as I trudged back inside to finish my lunch break; I long to go back to school but bills dictated otherwise.
The original plan had been for Patrick and I to go out, we had made those plans several days earlier. I had gotten a phone call at the end of work saying that he had the sister of a friend of his coming to stay with him so he wouldn’t be able to make it into the city after all. This bummed me out since I hardly got to see the guy. Our schedules conflicted and he lived north more than two hours away.
The phone tag began at about ten-thirty when his “buddy’s sister” decided she wanted to go out clubbing, apparently for the first time, and they were heading down to the city after all. It took me a while to decide if whether I would just ignore the whole thing and go to bed or if I would really try to pull this together and meet up with them. On the guilty side: we had made plans and he was calling me about every half hour in order get a hold of me. I still just couldn’t decide what mood I was in and whether I felt like being social with this “buddy’s sister”, the only name he referred to the girl as.
Twelve-thirty in the morning was when I pulled into the city. This is the latest I’ve ever still tried to go out dancing. The whole way I was getting text messages from friends saying that this was the most hardcore thing I’d ever done and on a freakin’ week night. This at least fueled my determination because at every exit off the freeway I was reminding myself what a totally foolish thing this could turn out to be.
Pulling in the parking garage I took my sweet time getting out of my car because of the less than savory guys that were milling about. One tapped on my window and complained that there was plenty of free parking. What was it with me and bums yelling about my foolishly spent money when it came to paid parking? Is this a sign or something? Was God trying to tell me I’m an idiot? Still determined to do as I chose and not what some scary man was shouting for me to do, I headed for the machine to pay. It was then that I indeed spotted places out on the street. Hurrying back to my car I parked behind the garage and hurried into the club more than pleased with myself for saving money, but also for managing this on my own not getting scared out of my spot because some unwashed man was barking orders at me. All of that aside from the fact that the clubs would be closing in less than an hour anyway, there had to be tons of parking.
By now I had sent about ten billion text messages to Patrick trying to make sure he was still around. Heading to entrance of Trinity Nightclub I realized that I foolishly had no cash on me because I had been expecting to hit up Ladies Night cover free and pay for the parking via credit card. Now I stood in line to get into the club and the bouncer seemed to be taking cash from everyone. I freaked out. All this way and I had no money to get into the club. I paced around the outside trying to call Patrick for monetary assistance, but got no answer. Manning the door and cat-calling at any ladies that wandered past his post was the same asshole bouncer that had had such a fit about taking all my crumpled one dollar bills the night Renzo and I had gone out. The last thing I wanted to deal with was him again. Finally I gave up on Patrick and asked the bouncer what the cover was. It was Ladies Night and I had been pacing around in the cold for no good reason.
Inside the club the lobby area was packed. I always tend to scan the room as I speed-walk through. Never hurts to check out the hotties before you get on to the dance floor. If the crowd is looking good that tends to improve my morale even if the dance floor isn’t very exciting. Straight to the Hip Hop Room I headed knowing that was where I would find Patrick and this “buddy’s sister”. Indeed I spotted them right off, dancing with wild abandon right in front of the DJ booth. Jumping right into the middle of an already well established dance floor, I grooved my way over and gave Patrick a good swift boot in the butt. That got his attention. They stopped dancing and he made introductions all around, none of which I heard over the music. I had expected to see something blonde and teen-model like when I met his “buddy’s sister”. She was very attractive but not model intimidating. She seemed very down to Earth and honestly, I liked her right off.
We went back to dancing and it’s always then that I realize I’m too tired to be trying to keep up with him. A very energetic dancer as I’ve mentioned before Patrick is a handful to deal with on the dance floor. I love him because he is a challenge to my talent and totally a source of inspiration. But none of these great qualities can be taken advantage of if I can’t even move my feet in the normal manner of my own usual talent. I felt like I was moving through caramel (molasses is so cliché). My feet just weren’t moving at the same pace that Patrick was feeling so I was left with circles being danced around me.
I ended up taking to my own corner and letting Patrick hang with his friends. I needed to wake up and warm up. Even as I found my own little island of funk, I still looked around me through the eyes of someone who should have been asleep. The lights and the music seemed surreal and in slow motion at times. It’s tough to synchronize yourself when nothing around you seems right. Closing my eyes to focus on the music I stayed in my corner trying desperately to fall back into my groove. Time to time I would glance around the room in order to keep an eye on Patrick as he moved about entertaining his crew, always a drink in his hand. I felt rather silly knowing that the whole group had been out enjoying themselves since about ten-thirty that night. They were winding down while I was still stone cold. I remembered a talk Patrick and I had had earlier about the fact that he was a terrible social butterfly. To know him was to have confidence that you were never forgotten. This knowledge made me feel a lot better for having driven all the way out there only to watch the guy from the other side of the room for the rest of the night.
That’s not to say that I wasn’t enjoying myself in my own usual manner. The music was definitely keeping me on the dance floor. I didn’t want to walk out or kill the DJ. Yet it was becoming more and more apparent to me that I’ve dived so far into my House music that I don’t even listen to Hip Hop anymore. Anything currently on the radio is a mystery to me. I’m still not quite sure how I feel about being so focused on one genre of music and leaving the rest to the way side. In the heart of it all I love to dance. House speaks to my soul but Hip Hop still speaks to my feet. I would hate to lose that.
The people that were dancing around me were all different types. It was great to see so many different people out there dancing, the majority on the floor alone and really enjoying themselves. The “hook-up” vibe was faint at best; the focus of the room was more on dancing. Even when guys did come over to try their luck at dancing with me, I would just smile at them and back into the crowd they would fade. That in itself was both handy and surreal. Even though I have no problem doing it, I hate the hassle that turning a guy down can end up being. I also hate doing that awful shy away dance move, where he insists and you just keep moving away to maintain your personal bubble. But I didn’t have to do any of that. Just a simple smile and it was seamless. No fuss, no muss, just continued dancing enjoyment.
The floor had cleared out for a moment, and I spotted Bryan standing in the middle of things and pondering the room with his usual air of total player-ness. We caught each other’s eye from across the room and nodded. For some reason I’m always happy to see Bryan because he’s the most exhibitionistic dancer I know and whenever he’s in the room I know that I can jump in at any time if I want to join in the fun. On the other hand watching him operate always makes me shake my head. The man is the most conceited person I’ve ever met. He’s fun, he’s hot, and he’s a huge pain in the ass. Neither of us made a move to do more than the manly nod of acknowledgment. I had since lost Patrick and I was getting seriously hot in the long sleeved shirt I had senselessly thrown on. The night had been a cold one and I had hated to crawl out of my warm clothes to leave the house in the first place. My compromise had been to put on this button down, long sleeved, white dress shirt. On the fashion side it was a sexy shirt with only three buttons that showed off my midriff, more specifically my navel ring; on the practical side it was a little warmer with the long sleeves (which were driving me crazy).
Out of no where I caught sight of Patrick as he came down the stairs from yet another trip to the bar. He smiled in my general direction and headed over to me. I found it ironic that I had managed to dance myself into a corner, hiding by the side of the DJ booth. I was, unintentionally, about as far away from where his friends were as I could possibly get. The only way he could have spotted me was if he had been keeping tabs on me thus far. Again we danced and I still just couldn’t keep up with the man. His style was just so out there and better described as flailing. He’s the sort that dances into other people, bumping them out of his way. I couldn’t mesh with that. As much as I could step back at admire it from afar, there was no possible way I could dance “with” him. Instead I tried to focus my efforts on at least dancing “next” to him in a manner that seemed complimentary. The problem I encountered there was the fact that the dance floor was too crowded for me to step back and really dig in to the music. As content as he was to smack, shove, and bump the people around him I on the other hand was way too conscious of how much I hate that shit myself.
Away Patrick disappeared again and I was almost happier to relax back into my own groove. Patrick’s enthusiasm had left me in the middle of the floor and facing several male faces that had watched my partner dive back into an all female group. One guy in particular I had seen the last time I had met Patrick here. An average sort of guy, he always dressed totally casual if more skater like, yet seemed to really have a passionate want to dance. He wasn’t terrible yet I had watched the series of rejections he had suffered through this night alone. By no means was I interested in meeting the guy, yet I couldn’t help watch him from time to time and smile at his tenacity. The guy had guts and that was commendable.
The floor cleared again as the DJ went on an Oldies kick. Michael Jackson’s “Billy Jean” had come back with a force yet it was a party killer right then. As is his style, I watched Bryan head to the center of the floor and proceed to blow out a seriously awesome MJ dance routine. Even the DJ had to give him props and dedicated the song to his awesome moves. With the intention of getting Bryan more fame, I hopped up the stairs of the DJ booth. I had wanted to tell the guy Bryan’s name and maybe get a message said but the DJ ignored me quite thoroughly so I stepped down again feeling a little put down.
The oldies continued and Patrick grabbed me up to follow his crowd into the lobby. Passing Bryan on the way out, I gave him a pat on the back. Not moving from his leaned position he just gave me this look that said “I know I’m cool, I don’t need you to tell me.” I felt a little stupid as I was herded on but then the most important thing to Bryan is… Bryan.
Once in the lobby the music was a lot slower. The girls were already sitting down at one of the tables and I felt too out of the loop to just plop down with the rest of them. Pulling out a chair from the table behind them, I sat down feeling totally gross and sweaty. I never notice how sweaty I am until I sit for a moment or I leave the dance floor. Dancing is a lot like being in a gym. If you’re exercising and surrounded by other people that are exercising then you don’t tend to notice how sweaty you are nor do the people around you care. If you decide to walk out of the gym without a shower, all your hard work just looks gross as you try to head through the line at the grocery store or something. It’s just out of place. Even if I tried to put my hair up and roll down my sleeves, there was nothing I could do about being just plain flushed and sticky. Patrick’s “buddy’s sister” took the time to introduce me to the rest of the group and tried to talk a little with me. The problem was I had sat down and absolute exhaustion was starting to kick in. While I was fighting the glassy stare, I just couldn’t keep up an interesting conversation.
The decision was made to head over to the Last Supper Club right around the corner and of course I was more than willing to head that way as well. It was Open House night which meant total House music and free cover for all. DJ Hyperfunk was one of the resident DJ’s who switched off every week on opening or closing. To me that was all the more reason to head right over as soon as possible. Out the door we all trooped, and even thought the rest of the group fell into a close nit mob leaving me to the outskirts I didn’t care. I was more interested in getting to Last Supper before it closed for the night. Having no idea what time it was every slow step was just a moment lost on the dance floor.
I didn’t waste any time with the rest of the club once I was inside Last Supper. The minute my foot touched the edge of that dance floor my body was already moving. Working my way in closer to the middle, the last thought on my mind was where Patrick or anyone else had ended up. They could drink, they could wander about checking the scene, or they could leave, I just didn’t care. After dancing to Hip Hop for the last hour or so, House music always seems that much sweeter to my ears. My groove returns as well as my confidence. Being tired was the last thing I was feeling as I dance my way around the floor smiling at people I knew and nodding to some guy that gave me a cheer of encouragement.
Coming up for breath finally after several really great songs, I saw Hyperfunk off to the side talking with a group of people. I was a little disappointed that I had obviously missed his set for that night. Whoever the DJ closing that night was, he was more that enough to keep me happily dancing. Looking toward the bar I spotted Shannon and headed over to say hi. When I got there it was totally slammed. The people I had thought were just milling about were actually fighting their way toward drink orders. It was impossible to get close and ultimately I couldn’t catch his eye. What would the point be when I wasn’t going to order a drink anyway?
I paced through the crowd seeing if I could spot anyone else I knew, all for the sake of a breather and seeing a friendly face. A flash back of having been out there last dancing with James made me a little sad. The place was packed that night and a good partner would have been great at that moment. Finding Patrick standing off to the side, leaning on a table, I veered over to stand next to him. It isn’t long before he was gone to find his friends.
I stayed where I was, feeling tired and unable to catch my breath. Some guy who had seen me dance earlier came over, reaching his hand out in invitation. From what I had seen of him on the dance floor, he would have been a good partner but I was in the middle of fighting a terrible energy drain. Shaking my head at the guy, the hand that had been reaching out to take mine flipped up in a move of rejection as he danced away. “Talk to the hand”, was what I got in response and I couldn’t help but smile. What a funny, girly thing for the guy to do.
When the lights came on I was in the middle of the dance floor trying desperately to find my second wind. I wasn’t having much luck with that. I spotted Patrick and his crew heading out the door and hurried to fall in behind them. For some reason Patrick decided that this was now our quality time. Walking back toward Trinity he spun all sorts of ideas of us going out and doing something else. What, he didn’t care. If I wanted to hang out with his “buddy’s sister” then cool, if not then he would drop her off at the place they were staying and the two of us would go off and do something. It sounded like fun initially. I hadn’t had an “after clubbing adventure” in forever, yet all I really could think was that I was hungry. That wasn’t really exciting.
Stopping at the corner with my car in view, I looked at my watch and felt both exhaustion and responsibility take over. I had to work in the morning and I was about to be in a coma any second. Neither of those things made me exciting enough to think of being in the company of others. Not and expect to make it home or up again for work on time.
As the group separated and veered off in the directions of their cars, Patrick turned to me and asked what the plan was. I felt really bad when I had to explain yet again that I was just too tired to hang out. His look of disappointment rolled into something like anger, and then smoothed out into ambivalence. “I guess this is goodbye then.” Just the way he said it I knew I’d never hear from the guy again. I was both okay with that and sad at the same time. Patrick had seemed like a really interesting guy. Reminding me a lot of Jimmy, I had looked forward to getting to know him better as well as have someone I could call to go out dancing should the mood take me. All of that was gone with just one look. If the guy couldn’t understand me or my needs then he wasn’t worth my time anyway. Our schedules had made it impossible for us to hang out. Parting ways was just inevitable.
Driving home I was fighting “the nods” the whole way. This was always the worst. A person can feel sleepy after a long day at work and get a little droopy eyed while fighting the traffic home. Then there was “the nods”. The uncontrollable dropping of your head to your chest and sleep takes completely over. This can happen for a second or several minutes but when you wake up, you have no idea how long you’ve been asleep. That is no way to operate a motorized vehicle. Thank God I hadn’t been stupid enough to think that breakfast would have been a good idea. Making it home alive was a little higher on my priority list.
I’m sad that Patrick deemed me no longer worth his time. Then again, we weren’t really spending time together anyway. I just find it tough knowing that someone out there made the conscious decision never to speak to me again. Life is just strange when you stop and think about how many people have come and gone from your life without your want either way. It just reminds me that time is precious and to make the most of it every day. Someone will enter and someone will leave, it’s only a matter of time. It’s the bits in the middle that make the difference.

Don't Cha!

It wasn’t too long ago that this song came out and of course the lyrics were perpetually stuck in Felicia’s head. This of course means that they were perpetually stuck in mine. This of course wouldn’t be the first time she had done that to me. It never bodes well when both of us are working together with the same song stuck in our heads. That just makes me plain cranky most of the time.
While dancing at the club when I took all my co-workers out, I found it terribly ironic that I had been jogging along to my radio station listening to the House remix of this song long before I heard this particular song in its original form. I found it slower and almost tougher to dance to. It was of course a Hip Hop song, but to me it just didn’t groove the way I had gotten use to.
As with all the other songs I’ve heard this way, I always like the remix better. There’s just something about a remix that fixes all the problems the song had before and just cleans it all up. Anything you can dance to is a good thing from the start anyway!
All though a song I would label as ghetto from its content, there’s something really damn catchy about the whole thing, and for better or worse it grew on me. I haven’t seen the video and probably never will. (Since moving last year I haven’t seen much of anything T.V. related.) This song has an interesting message; with the woman letting her object of lust know that she could have him at any time. The first half of the song is her telling the guy how badly she knows he wants her and how his girlfriend seems to notice too. Yet she tells the guy to back off. It ends with the idea that he had better forget all the hot stuff she’d just outlined through out the rest of the song because he’s in a relationship. Good message but a little contrary which I guess is at the heart of most females that would ask a guy, “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”


Don't Cha
By Pussycat Dolls

Oh, baby dolls

I know you like me (I know you like me)
I know you do (I know you do)
That’s why whenever I come around she’s all over you
And I know you want it (I know you want it)
It's easy to see (it's easy to see)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be home with me

[Chorus]
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Don’t cha, don’t cha
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me
Don’t cha, don’t cha

Fight the feeling (fight the feeling)
Leave it alone (leave it alone)
Cause if it ain’t love
It just ain’t enough to leave a happy home
Let's keep it friendly (let's keep it friendly)
You have to play fair (you have to play fair)
See, I don’t care
But I know she ain’t gon' wanna share

[Chorus]
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Don’t cha, don’t cha , baby
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me
Don’t cha, don’t cha

I know I'm on your mind
I know we'll have a good time
I'm your friend
I'm fun
And I'm fine
I ain’t lying
Look at me, you ain’t blind [2x]

See, I know she loves you (I know she loves you)
I understand (I understand)
I'd probably be just as crazy about you
If you were my own man
Maybe next lifetime (maybe next lifetime)
Possibly (possibly)
Until then, Oh friend you're secret is safe with me

[Chorus]
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Don’t cha, don’t cha
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me
Don’t cha, don’t cha

Clubbing With Legal Style

The crew at work had been hearing about my adventures since I started which earned me the official nickname of Party Girl about a month in. This was the height of my glory days, when I was going out four nights a week. Janai and I always said that if we thought about it, we could have had a seven day club schedule. The ultimate party routine could be achieved and preached!
It’s now two years later and I’ve slowed down a lot. This is probably for the better since I am getting older after all. Yet, I still feel very strongly about converting others. I feel the stereotypes that surround clubbing can keep those just turning twenty-one from venturing out or end up full filling the stereotype in the end. These people don’t have fun and hardcore clubbers like me don’t have fun because we have to deal with them. In that resolve the first step really is just taking a person out and showing them a good time my way: going out with the intention of having a few drinks (or no drinks) and enjoying the atmosphere for what it is. Dancing is no scary thing. With these goals I have ventured forth more than once on a crusade and up till that moment, the Clubbing Queen had never been defeated in this quest.
When Felicia was to turn eighteen I happened across a flyer for The Element. (See previous post: International Player). They were boasting a rocking eighteen and up night with two DJ’s I really liked as the entertainment. Originally intending to only take Felicia out, the idea grew into a full fledged party idea as more and more people heard about it and wanted to come out. I had managed to recruit myself a whole gaggle of impressionable minds that I could convert. The idea excited me as well as made me worry. This had all sorts of possible points where I could ruin my perfect record.
Deciding to organize, I fell back to the best possible way to send out the word for a party. Evite.com. If you’ve never heard of this site, it’s the most amazing thing! It lets you set up an invitation with all the information needed and then sends out emails to all the attendees. Upon getting this email, there’s a link to go back to your invitation and mark their response. Not only do you get an idea of who’s coming and how many, but the guests can also leave a little message for everyone invited to read. The site also automatically sends out reminder emails to your guests two days before the event. All of this and it’s totally FREE. There are a billion other great little things about this site, but that’s for you to check out. Anyway, I set up an invitation and the crew was leaving some hilarious responses. The guest list was also growing so I was definitely glad that I had the EVITE to keep things organized. (Wow that sounds like a commercial)
Knowing well the girls that were going, the main discussion was on what to wear. Having been to under aged deals when I was newly twenty-one as well as just being clueless myself back in the day, I now have a pet peeve about what these kids wear to the club. Like under aged drinking parties that usually feature an abundance of Jagermeister and Wild Turkey, girls seem to go for two extremes: little floral dresses that remind me of Church or totally skanky as if to be grown-up is to look like a hooker. One of the first things I learned was the way you dressed affected your experience, but in ways that people don’t automatically consider.
It’s a no-brainer that if your shoes are killing your feet you’re not going to be having a great time. Hence that became my biggest warning that I put right on the EVITE. There was no way I wanted the girls to be wearing those cutesy little strappy heels and becoming wallflowers an hour later due to the excruciating pain. It was tough for me to explain that clubbing almost has its own dress code aside from what the clubs themselves allow. At the moment it’s the style to wear shoes closer to running rather than the usual dressy torture devices women love to sport. Puma’s are all the rage and the world’s comfiest shoe if you ask me. I’m in absolute heaven that I can wear my classiest stuff and Puma’s to go dancing.
I also wanted these girls to go casual. It was going to be a Sunday night and Hip-Hop music. From what I had heard from Val, who had gone more than once on this particular day of the week, it was going to be laid back and crowded as hell. This is where I firmly believe that jeans go with everything. Wear a sexy little top that sparkles and shows off all your endowments, yet keep it comfortable. Some tight jeans will show off your assets as it were, more than a short skirt that you can’t move in. The point was to go out dancing, not stand around. All of that requires a person to be able to breathe and move about freely. Comfort is also inexorably linked to confidence. Confidence is the key to having fun in every socially oriented activity. If you feel you can take on any situation, and you know you look good, the little worries are left behind you. Stepping out to try something new becomes so much easier.
The idea of chatting over what to wear with the two guys that had agreed to go never crossed my mind. Men have it so much easier. If he can dress himself on a regular basis he’s ready to Club. What I did worry about was losing the guys on this venture. I knew from the start I would be focusing on the girls more. The pit falls for girls are social anxieties like over/under dressing. That I knew I could solve before we headed out. For guys the pit falls involve social anxieties that are tougher to combat. “Looking stupid” is a subjective thing that only the guy can deal with himself. That is why dancing is a topic that usually makes men bale out. In the past guy friends of mine were more inclined to hang out with me if I gave them the option of “holding down the bar” instead of shaking their groove thing. On top of that I knew that both my age and my gender would make it tough for me to convince these guys anything if a situation reared its ugly head. For this I called in Jimmy.
It didn’t take a whole lot of arm twisting, but I played the guilt trip card just to seal the deal. After all Jimmy was supposed to have joined me the night I had gone out with Renzo and had totally left me hanging. All I could think of was how my friend Jon had praised Jimmy as a great help, on one of the few nights Jon and I had gone dancing. Jimmy’s enthusiasm is always contagious, and being a guy he just has this Zen way of talking you down from your fear of looking stupid. The man was a pimp when it came to the ladies and he would help the guys find their feet on the floor. Aside from all those reasons, I also wanted someone that I knew with me. The whole age issue was slowly creeping up on me as the time drew closer. Having him there assured me that I would have a partner in either feeling old or laughing at the kids.
When the actual night rolled around, I had arranged to meet everyone in the parking lot at work and carpool out. This would keep us together as a group and keep the cost of parking down as well. As the day progressed plans were starting to fall apart on me. Felicia, who had been the reason for this whole plan in the first place, had made it clear she wasn’t coming and the rest of the girls’ enthusiasm had dropped a lot from my perspective. I was starting to wonder if anyone was going to show.
As for the guys, Jacob seemed secure to show up as long as Amanda was by his side. I wasn’t worried about him. Cale was the one that was slowly becoming a suicidal case. Not in a life ending way, but in the tragic ending to the joy he could experience with dancing. The guy was no social butterfly by any standards. The quiet sort that would rather stand back and crowd watch, the idea of being shoved into a weird atmosphere filled with music that he really didn’t like and being faced with the idea of engaging in an activity that he felt he had no ability to participate in was almost completely terrifying. No matter how we had talked about it prior to this, nothing I could say would change his mind. Yet he was being a trooper anyway. When I got a call that he was seriously changing his mind, I was frustrated as it was. Again there was no way to communicate with him to do any good at this point and there was barely two hours to go. I fell back on cheap bribe and desperate measures to get what I wanted. I bought a six pack of Corona and drove to his house.
Now for all my preaching that you don’t have to get drunk to enjoy clubbing, as well as fact that I don’t honestly agree with buying alcohol for minors, I panicked. I knew that a couple beers in Cale would either mellow out his need to run the other direction, or straight up achieve the liquid courage that the majority of my male friends boast as a necessity. So many clubbing friends can’t be wrong.
Bringing my own beverages, I drank a couple Smirnoff Ice’s with Cale as we talked about the night to come. I figured I would be too busy buzzing around making sure the rest of the crew was having a good time; this was my singular chance to have a few drinks as well. Since Cale was drinking, I figured it was just easier if I drove. This would also keep him from turning around at any point and bolting back to his apartment. Into the car I herded him, trying to ignore the white knuckles that were gripping the Corona bottle he was determined to bring with him like a security blanket.
I was blasting Hip-Hop music in my car. This was for me as much as it was for Cale. I was trying to get pumped up for the night; I was also trying to acclimate him to the music he was going to be suffering through for the rest of the night. Cale had never made it a secret that he found Rap and Hip-Hop less than appealing. With that in mind I was bumping my speakers with specific stuff that had always made me want to dance. To me there’s always been a difference between stereotypical Hip-Hop and some of the jewels that have come out in the last few years. The ones that make me run to the dance floor are more than just some person talking about getting a piece of ass at the club. Being he was a musician, I hoped to show Cale that there was a beat to these songs that was great for dancing to and in the end the words had little to do with the whole experience anyway.
Rolling into the parking lot I was pleased to find that Sarah, Kristin, Amanda, and Jacob were already there waiting for us. I left my windows rolled down and my car stereo pumping out music as I walked over to talk to them. The girls had done well in choosing cute jeans and sexy little tops. Secretly I was terribly pleased with myself. They were going to look like regulars once we got inside. None of that Sunday school mess. Yet as my gaze dropped to their shoes, I frowned. Strappy little heeled shoes on each and every one of them. They all knew what I was frowning about immediately too. One by one they all assured me that they’d danced in that particular pair of shoes before and they would all be “hardcore” for me. Even with my doubts about how long “hardcore” would end up being, the excitement was tangible with them. What more could I ask for? They were ready to roll out and see what this whole scene was about. Even if it was for five minutes, they were ready to have fun and I was content with that alone.
As we waited for Valerie to show up, Cale cracked open his last Corona. Popping the top off with his lighter like an expert and taking rather long pulls off the bottle, I started to worry whether those beers had hit him a lot quicker than I had anticipated. He was starting to resemble the drunken Cale I had met at the baseball game and with that came the Mother Hen instinct. I was keeping an eye on him as I moved about taking with the girls and Jacob, wondering if this was a red flag for problems awaiting me that night.
Although at one point I was easily distracted into a girly moment when everyone wanted to see what I was wearing. After all my preaching on the correct thing to wear I’m sure there was a measure of wondering what I would show up in. Ironically enough I pulled out something from my early days just for the occasion. Taking my coat off, I revealed a top that I hadn’t worn in ages. I call it my Chain Mail. A two layered halter top that sported a metal hoop around the neck instead of strings, the bottom later was black sequins and the top layer was a silver crisscross pattern that was pretty see-through. All of this gave the illusion of what I liked to think of as medieval armor. Only in my twisted mind I know, but hey, it’s my wardrobe.
Valerie rolled in just after this discussion on medieval armor. At work, and anywhere else I’m sure, she’s the sort to always be just immediately on time. Upon request Val stepped out of her car to show off her outfit to the girls. She was looking good and the perfect example of being dressed sensibly yet sexy. She also immediately noticed the shoe choices the other girls had made. I had to laugh as she eyed up what the three girls were wearing and shook her head. “They’re going to be hurting.” I shrugged at that point, feeling more optimistic. From this moment on, the girls would deal with whatever happened to their poor feet with grace; of that I was certain.
I was also pretty sure that Val was the last person due to be showing up. Even with all of Felicia’s blustering, I knew the moment she said, “Maybe” it was a firm “No”. Five girls and two guys had ultimately made it. Not too shabby and everyone seemed really eager to get the show on the road. With that I shouted for us to “Roll Out!” and headed back toward my car. Valerie knew her way, and the rest were all riding in one car. I was relieved to not be leading some ridiculously long caravan into the city.
The parking lot that was right behind the club was still pretty empty. There were several people chilling with their car doors open and music blasting. Val headed off to find free parking while the rest of us headed for the pay machine. During the car ride into the city, Cale seemed less and less enthused by all of proceedings as well as more distant and just plain drunk. When parking was paid he disappeared toward a McDonald’s about a block away. This left us all to sit and wait for both Valerie and Cale to return.
Jumping up to sit on my trunk I listened to the girls talk about stuff going on in their lives and upcoming college details. Along with the younger crowd that was waiting in their cars, listening to these conversations was settling the “old” thing into my brain. It was something that had been on my mind while planning the outing, but now that I was sitting in the middle of it, as it were, the reality of the age gap was striking home a lot harder than I had expected. I am not old by any means. Still in my mid-twenties I’m not past my prime just yet. But in contrast to a high school Senior who was heading to college wide eyed and full of potential, I felt like a jaded old woman.
Turning my mind on to other things, the sun was just beginning to set at nine o’clock and the evening was warm enough to move about without a chill. I couldn’t ask for more on that side of things. I also took in the passing traffic and people moving by. The city has always been a comfort to me. Looking around at the “goings on” in the heart of the city has always made me feel like I was at the center of things, being involved and living life. When I was young, doing anything in this area was like a big trip, even though it was no more than a half hour away. Now that I had lived in this city and had gotten to know and love the nightlife here, it was hard to view it all again from these kids’ perspective. They had no idea what they were about to see or do when they walked through those doors. That was exciting to me. I had the chance to live this again through their eyes and to show them a good time as well. All of this effort was for the sake of adding good people to the nightlife family.
When both Cale and Valerie returned, we gathered around to make last minute decisions on what was going into the club with the girls and what was staying. It was my advisement to leave behind everything they could live without. Hence my original suggestion of jeans being the best idea; this went beyond fashion into functionality. ID and money could go into pockets. I am so hardcore about this now that it’s tough for me to leave the house without pants that have some sort of pockets in them. My independence (and my paranoia) dictate that I have everything related to my immediate survival on my person should I get into a “situation”. But for these girls, it was more of a matter of financial safety. Putting the accessories safely in the car keeps a girl from either having her purse stolen, riffled through, or forgotten. The same went for coats. Coat check is just another expense and leaving one’s belongings laying somewhere just ends up in tragedy most of the time.
After some item shuffling from purses to pockets, Kristin finally put in her earrings and deposited her car keys into Jacob’s safe keeping. Everyone was ready to make an entrance. One big group of under age hotties proceeded toward the alley way that lead to the front of the building. Hanging back I sent up a last prayer for a successful evening. I was going to do what I was good at and show them the best time I could, the prayer was to hopefully influence the factors that I had no control over from this moment on: the atmosphere of the club due to the crowd. Val had been filling me full of dread for the last couple weeks with stories of fights every time she had gone, along with just plain old creepy guys she had to deal with. This could ruin any of those girls’ nights so easily and it was nothing I could prevent. That simple factor alone could ruin my perfect conversion record.
Momentarily frustrated that the group had kept on trucking without noticing my absence, I moved into a jog to catch back up with them. Heading along the side of the building, I stopped to let a guy move past me with locked cases just the right size for vinyl. At second glance I recognized DJ Tamm, one of guys I had been pumping up to the group as a great reason to party at this club. A regular on my Dance radio station, he also was apart of the “Club KISS106” DJ’s that traveled around to various clubs in affiliation with the local radio station. I thought the man was a genius. There he was hauling his gear into the club through the side entrance and all I could do was smile like an idiot as he walked by. The crew had turned to watch me right at that moment, but when I tried to explain that the guy was one of the DJ’s I was all about, everyone shrugged at me and moved on.
Rounding the corner we were all surprised to find a line already formed and no sign of anyone being let in at all. It was almost nine-thirty and we were at least twenty people from the door. It had been my understanding that the doors opened early in the afternoon like it did every other night. I was wrong. Turning to face everyone else’s looks of “I thought you knew what you were doing,” was the first of my problems. Everything had been going so smoothly and now it was coming to a screeching halt at the door.
And so we stood in line. Again I was thankful that it wasn’t freezing cold or raining. That could have seriously sucked. Huddling up in a group we tried to find things to talk about. Valerie was regaling the group with other adventures she’d had at The Element and other underage places. Everyone else entertained I took a moment to call Jimmy. It was almost a girly conversation. Being one that never likes an empty room, his concerns were more about how many people were there and what to wear. Answering these questions and hanging up the phone with his assures that he was on his way out the door in a few minutes, I wondered if he was really going to be as helpful as I had hoped.
Time ticked on. As it got closer to ten o’clock the line was nearly to the alley way and I was feeling ancient. I was totally and completely surrounded by people that were closer to eighteen than twenty. It wasn’t just the conversations that my friends were having. It was more the total emersion. Everyone around me was involved in similar conversations. Girls dressed as I had predicted were strolling by us to the back of the line. It was also obvious who the regular attendees of this Sunday Social were. Like rock stars they would walk the length of the line slapping hands and chatting with several groups of people. Socializing up and down the line was also making everything behind us fuzzy as to how many people were actually waiting outside.
The whole time the rest of us were chatting to pass the time, I was watching Cale pull farther and farther away from us both mentally and physically. I’m sure the sheer fact that we were finally in line was forcing him to deal with the reality of situation. It wasn’t a joke anymore, he was going to have to stick it out and go inside. Once inside, all hell was going to break loose. Making some mention of using the bathroom again he disappeared toward the alley way. I was immediately irritated because I knew the minute he left would be the minute they would start letting people in. Feeling still like a Clubbing tour guide, I didn’t want to lose track of my group. It was my hope to all go in and experience it together.
Exactly as I had predicted, as soon as he disappeared around the corner, the bouncers at the door started checking ID’s. I could have screamed with frustration. As the line moved forward at an alarming pace I sent the rest of them ahead of me while I frantically looked for signs of Cale’s return. I ended up calling him and yelling at him to hurry. At this point he was impossible to talk to; everything I said just seemed to confuse him. Finally making it through to him that I wanted his ass in line NOW, I hung up and waited, and waited for what seemed like an eternity. When it was becoming clear that I was going to have to choose to leave him or let people go ahead of me he finally strolled back into line next to me, no sense of urgency what-so-ever. I really wanted to throttle him.
Then came the ID check and Cale seemed so confused by it all. I remembered the picture on his driver’s license looked nothing like he did now and started to worry there would be trouble. When he was waved on, I breathed a sigh of relief and handed over my ID next. Being over twenty-one I got a bright orange wristband that would allow me up stairs to the bar. It was almost ironic as I watched the bouncer fumble with the putting on of the wristband. All day long at work I hand out wristbands and watch people fumble with putting them on. I was always the one to swoop in and help them to do it quicker. Here I was the customer and it was the employee that was slowing things down.
Thinking too hard about that nonsense I turned the corner to enter the club and ran smack into a security pat down. Cale was already being frisked and for some reason I was paying more attention to him getting through than doing what the female bouncer wanted from me. When he was asked to remove the contents of his pocket I distinctly remember the sound of the beer cap as it fell from the jumble of keys and such he had dug out. On to the floor it made a great show of clattering in a circle before landing face up to show the world a Corona label. Panic set in again, along with anger. They had just checked his ID and since he wasn’t sporting an orange wristband, that Corona cap was seriously condemning.
My attention got called back to my own situation at hand right then. That was the most thorough security check I’ve ever had. Not at rock concerts or even the check point into the court house have I ever been so completely felt up and checked over. All my anxiety over the crowd we’d be dealing with once inside, came back at full force. Never once in all the nights that I had gone to this club, had I ever dealt with a pat down. What was so different with Sunday nights that the security was completely hardcore?
With both Cale and I free from the professional grope down for the sake of security, I lead the way around the darkened corner into the lobby. The Element’s lobby area was more like a black little funhouse hallway. Once through the initial ID check you step inside not sure what you’ll be dealing with next. Moving though the darkness a cashier suddenly looms up at you and demands the cover charge or the menacing looking bouncer standing next to her will do more than startle you.
At the same moment I was trying to regain my sense of purpose and confidence that I had the rest of this situation handled by paying the cover in an orderly fashion, I was also distracted by the rest of my gang. Everyone but Cale and I, had made it through the lobby and were standing at the doorway that opened out into the rest of the club. In one big clump they called my name and waved to get my attention. “We’re all ready in.” I shook my head, obviously I could see they were already in. “No, all of us are free. We’re in!” Confusion set in hardcore. Now what was going on that I hadn’t planned ahead for? The group kept waving me toward them insisting that the whole group was in free. Moving away from the desk I kept one eye on the bouncer as I moved, hesitantly, toward my beckoning friends. I kept waiting for the bouncer to bark at me some return command, but I crossed the lobby without an angry word being spoken. It was then that I realized that Cale wasn’t behind me in this venture, but by the time I turned to clue him in, the cashier was already handing him the change back and stamping his hand. It was too late.
All together again, I let them stand for a moment surveying the club. Long ago this building had been Polyester’s where one side blasted 70’s music and you busted a move on a Saturday Night Fever dance floor and the other was The Culture Club that played only 80’s. Even with its prime location, the venue didn’t survive and closed down ultimately for several years. Then last year work was started on the exterior of the building, and I was almost excited to see what the new owner had in mind. Every Tuesday night as I walked by on my way to my Tuesday night House spot, I kept hearing awesome Deep and Progressive Music coming from inside the building.
Another flash back to my post “International Player”, the owners made a lot of alterations to the layout of the building when it turned into The Element. A lot of changes I viewed as being for the better. One side for House and the other side for Hip Hop; this was a definite improvement if The Element was to survive in this town. I also loved the fact they had left the flashy S.N.F. dance floor in their main room. Disco or House it had the same roots and it felt good to dance on it like Travolta would be proud too.
Valerie led the group into the other room where tables and such were and Victor Menegaux had already started spinning from a booth that was above the dance floor and basically out of sight. Immediately sitting down at the closest table, I lagged behind my group eyeing the room for anyone I knew and trying to get a feel for the atmosphere. Was this going to be totally different than anything I had done since turning twenty-one? Was I the one that was totally out of her element after all? As the rest sat down around the small table I frowned as I saw that the guys were left to stand and the girls had huddled down to talk amongst themselves. Cale had taken the opportunity to disappear in the shadow of the wall and totally retreat; lighting the first of a long chain of cigarettes for the night. I was left to hover around the edges of the table feeling somewhat left out.
Both rooms had looked completely dead. Even as we sat there and the DJ blasted music into basically empty room, one had to wonder: Where had that line of people gone? That was something I’ve always explained away by figuring everyone was standing in line at the bar “getting their drink on” as Jimmy always says. Here it was a total mystery. People were just milling about from room to room and no one was interested in dancing what-so-ever. All of this was strange for me. Even though I pride myself as a floor starter, in this situation I knew people would just look at me like I was a completely loony old person if I got out on that floor too soon. I almost felt claustrophobic with that knowledge.
Kristin’s boyfriend Landon and his friend Daniel suddenly appeared from the other room and I was surprised to see them. Kristin hadn’t mentioned anything to me. I was glad they had been willing to come out and with her boyfriend beside her I hoped that Kristin would be more inclined to dance. The more the merrier and this also meant more male presence to help out the other two that were looking at that moment in time, less than enthusiastic about the adventure. Both Landon and Daniel were dressed well in button down shirts and jeans and seemed to be quite comfortable with the atmosphere. If I hadn’t known better, I wouldn’t have been able to tell that those boys were anything other than regular clubbers.
Since taking over the table none of the group had budged. For an hour we had all sat and watched everyone else walk by and jump on the dance floor. The act of people watching can turn from fashion show to freak show in very little time. I was totally feeling like a grandma as I became outraged at the outfits I saw go swinging past my line of sight. Some girls that were obviously eighteen years old, barely, were walking around in clothing that had me wondering where their parents were when they walked out of the house that night. I’m getting so old!
Then we had front row seats for a dance off of sorts. A couple girls that were dressed more like guys had jumped on the dance floor and started showing off. Another group of guys rolled up onto the dance floor and this shaggy haired blond guy, who was a Beck look-alike, started shaking his ass in a way that would make any black woman proud. We all thought it was odd that the guys were dancing like girls and the girls were dancing like guys. The entire time I was pacing around the table wondering why I wasn’t dancing at all. It was still early but I was totally itching to hit the dance floor. My intention was to wait and go out with Jimmy, figuring that would both look better and be more fun. Yet I’m so use to walking out there and doing what I wanted, when I felt a good song come on. Several good songs had already passed me by and I was getting pretty edgy.
A few moments later Jimmy came strolling through the door and I overjoyed to see him. Dressed to kill as always, the man can walk into a room, assess it and then proceed with absolute success in winning over every single person he meets. I also expected the minute he met Daniel, he would be all over his “Asian Brother”. When Jimmy meets a new guy that appears to be of his same ethnic background, he always automatically bonds with the guy; his arm is automatically around the guy and the majority of his attention tends to be focused on this person. In a ridiculous way it always looks like it’s been years since Jimmy had seen another Asian person. Knowing all of this I could predict how the night would play out. Daniel would end up under Jimmy’s arm and given the best the room could offer. I just hoped he wouldn’t leave out the rest of my boys; I had after all recruited him for the sake of getting Cale and Jacob to have a good time.
Making the grand announcement that Jimmy had arrived, I was little bit nervous about what the crew would think of him. Amanda had been reading my BLOG and knew very well how notorious Jimmy had been in the past. The rest had heard me tell stories about my weekend outings. A week or so earlier I had mentioned that I was inviting Jimmy to come down and hang with us; the girls had seemed eager to meet him. Now that he was there and let loose on my friends it was just more of the same from Jimmy. Moving in to chat with the girls around the table, he had them all smiling and laughing in no time. I on the other hand was just relieved to have him near. Jimmy is someone that had seen me at my best and had been pretty much my partner in crime since I met him. My confidence in the situation was immediately restored.
I let Jimmy chat up the crowd for a bit and hung back out of the way. I always feel somewhat out of place when I watch him work a room. I don’t have nearly the same skills. Yet stating his actions as “working the room” makes him seem like a used car sales man who only says what you want to hear. Really when it comes down to it, Jimmy is not an insincere person. He shoots from the hip and says whatever he feels. This can be completely flattering or less than amusing at times. But that’s just who he is.
Wandering back over to me, Jimmy gave me this concerned look and wrapped an arm around me, “How about we go get our drink on.” At this I smiled and felt like a drink would indeed mellow me out. I was getting a little too back-and-forth about the whole evening and really it hadn’t even started yet. Letting some of the girls know I was going upstairs with Jimmy I flashed them a smile and a wave of my orange wristband. Arm in arm, Jimmy and I wandered slowly into the other room looking for the stairwell that was hidden in a dark corner. I was little sad to walk past the dance floor and see that DJ Tamm had yet to start spinning. The other DJ had rocked out right at ten and I was not really a big fan of that guy’s talent. Either way I was keeping an eye on that other dance floor. When Tamm did start his set, I planned to be in the middle of things.
At the top of the stairs we were stopped by a bouncer, to which Jimmy and I flashed our orange wristbands and expected to move right on through. “No I need to see ID’s.” For some reason this just pissed me off. I’ve always been respectful of bouncers. I have several friends who have made this their soul career and man do they have stories! It also goes back to my total respect for any nightlife employee whose job is dealing with drunken jerks for a living. Every night the same shit, just a different person. This situation on the other hand seemed absolutely ridiculous. I immediately spoke up, “What are the wristbands for then?” The bouncer just shrugged and repeated his demand for ID’s. How utterly retarded! How completely silly is it to have the bouncers at the door fumbling around with wristbands and slowing down the line, when they are just going to check ID’s again at the top of the stairs? Thinking back now I have no idea why I got so fired up over the whole thing. I dug out my driver’s license and moved on into the bar area, but Jimmy and I were both still frustrated over how inane the whole thing seemed. How annoying was this going to get if we had to dig out our ID’s every time we came up for a drink?
Upstairs in the Heaven Lounge was like everything else so far, dark and pretty much empty. All the past times I had wandered up to this level to either patrol for hot guys or use the bathroom, the atmosphere was more like a traffic jam: bright flashing lights, tons of background noise, and plenty of bodies to maneuver around. While I waited next to Jimmy as he ordered at the bar I counted a total of ten people drinking quietly around the railing that looked down onto the main dance floor. No one was socializing unless they already had friends with them. Being over twenty-one wasn’t something that was going to turn into its own little social circle. Tossing back the Lemon Drop shot that Jimmy gave me, we toasted to good friendship and a successful evening.
Downstairs again, people were dancing on both floors now. The main floor was still just a MP3 player with no sign of Tamm ever appearing. Joining back up with the crew, I was little disappointed to see that no one had moved. The girls still sat around watching everything else go by them, Cale was smoking the next in what seemed a limitless amount of cigarettes, and I was back to pacing around like a caged tiger. It was then that Landon and Daniel returned from their rove of the club and Jimmy introduced himself. Even with the loud music I could hear him say, “Whazup my Asian Brother!” Jimmy was animated as he pointed around the club and they huddled closer to talk; I could almost feel the trouble that was about to start from all of this. There was a collective nod and Daniel disappeared into the next room with Jimmy. All I could do was smile and shake my head. And so it began.
It was several minutes later when I glanced back to the other room and started to laugh. I pointed out to my friends where Jimmy stood with Daniel and four girls. Not one random girl, but four girls that were all very good looking and eyeing up Daniel with interest as Jimmy continued to talk. Stepping down to where Landon was standing I pointed at his friend who was surrounded and asked if Daniel was single. When Landon nodded I said that by the end of the night Jimmy would change that situation.
Still more and more sitting was happening. The club was filling up and Jimmy was taking Daniel on his own personal tour of the other room. Tamm had started spinning and the majority of the crowd had shifted over there. Walking back and forth from room to room, the music was pretty much the same songs just being played in a different order. That left me disappointed and still pacing around our table waiting for any good reason to go dance. It was too loud to really talk, the girls seemed to be keeping themselves entertained anyway, and Jimmy was off running his game. Damn it I wanted to dance!
Out of no where I saw Landon and Daniel walk to the far corner of the dance floor and start dancing. I looked to Kristin impressed that her boyfriend had both balls, since the floor was still pretty sparse, and moves, the two guys definitely had some style! I immediately latched on to this opportunity. Grabbing Kristin’s hand I led her out on the dance floor and paired off with Daniel. At last we were dancing. Thank god! Or so I thought. Just as we were really getting into things and all four of us were having a bit of fun every other single person walked off the floor. I turned around as Kristin and Landon stopped dancing and realized we were quite alone. All four of us were left feeling a little exposed. What a weird ass moment to be the only one left standing!
That pretty much killed everyone else’s dancing inspiration and I followed the other three, rather reluctantly, off the floor. The night was not going at all as I had hoped. The minute I get on the floor and it completely clears. This was awesome. Yet I had gotten my taste of dancing and didn’t really want to give up just yet. Another song went through and the wildlife returned to the dance floor. I decided that I might as well do my own thing at that point and just grabbed a close corner of the floor to dance. I closed my eyes and tried not to care if everyone else thought I looked silly. If I kept up at that pace I wasn’t going to have any fun at all, why should I expect any one else in the group to.
One song and I returned to the table just in time to meet up with Jimmy. Back on to the floor I drug him making jokes about the old folks going out for a dance and even thought I tried to wave the rest of my crew up with me they were content to just sit and watch. Shrugging I was excited to be up there with Jimmy. I wanted to show off now, prove to my crew that I hadn’t been all talk. Better than I could have planned, he and I both started our funny little stretching exercises that we’ve done in the past just to make each other laugh. There we stood in the middle of the floor stretching out like marathon runners, not caring if we were in someone’s way or if we looked entirely too serious about the whole thing.
We both started to dance at the same time and I was just so happy. It had been a while since I had been out with Jimmy and we put on a show like only we know how: taking up the floor and dancing all over the place. At last I was home and happy. The night seemed so much better, looking at it from the bright lights of the dance floor. Having a partner up there that had the same passion as I did was comforting and energizing all at the same time. It wasn’t about age anymore. It was about having a fun time doing what you love. I really wanted these people to have this sort of enjoyment to look forward to. All my friends had years of memories to make and good times ahead of them and that made me almost envious. If I could go back and do it again, I would have done this more often. Right out of the gate at eighteen on through twenty-one I would have used every opportunity to get out on the floor and really dance.
“Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls came on while we were dancing and I remember immediately thinking how strange it was to hear the original version. I had only really listened to the dance remix up until this point. I was also pretty sick of hearing Felicia sing it at work and getting it stuck in my head. For a moment I was sad that Felicia hadn’t made it. She would have been out on the floor at this exact moment, no holds bared. Singing the words and trying to put on an act for the crew that was watching us, I happened to look over to see what they were up to. Even as I was trying to keep up with Jimmy and see beyond the glare of the lights pointed on the dance floor, I watched the entire crew of people get up from our table and follow Valerie into the next room. All that was left standing was Cale in his corner guarding his ashtray and Jacob who seemed lost as whether he should stay or go. I suddenly felt ridiculous. My dancing with Jimmy hadn’t inspired anyone to join us. They had all gotten fed up and walked into the other room.
Finishing out the song, Jimmy moved to dance with someone else and I headed into the other room. Part of me wanted to make sure they hadn’t left completely, yet I didn’t want to see their unhappy faces when I tracked them down like a chaperone. Tamm had definitely done what he does best and completely packed the place. The dance floor was just a mass of bodies and I couldn’t spot my friends from where I stood at edge, the only place I could find to stand. Picking my way through the crowd I saw the girls huddled up in a little dancing circle with some extras. Amanda and Sarah had found themselves partners, even though they seemed less than pleased about it. Then again I didn’t have to be there to know that these guys hadn’t necessarily given either girl the choice, that’s a move I would call an “opportunistic add-on”. This is when a guy rolls up on a girl and latches on from behind. You never see it coming so you can’t really defend yourself; you just feel his presence suddenly behind you. Most girls, like Sarah and Amanda, are a little too polite to tell someone like that to take a hike. They just kept dancing and hoped for the best. (The best meaning the hope that the guy just goes away.)
I ended up heading back into the other room, quite assured that the crew was doing well enough for themselves. I’m never one to suffer a dance floor that seriously overloaded. It’s not really dancing when there are that many bodies crammed into one place. It gets hot really fast, and you do this sway thing because that’s all the room allowed by whoever is gyrating next to you. I felt a little left out though. I had wanted us all to have one big happy night together. At this point I had two unhappy boys waiting for me at the table, and my wing-man Jimmy I had passed on the way back out of the crowded dance floor. Statistically it was getting better.
Pulling up a spot next to Cale on the wall, I released Jacob to go into the other room. As much as I’m sure Jacob was both feeling Cale’s pain and wanting to be with the rest of the crew, he took his time leaving. This lead Cale and I into a rather depressing conversation about how deeply and completely against this whole affair he was. I had really failed. The girls were in the other room dancing, Jacob would be fine as soon as he found Amanda, but Cale was more against the idea of dancing than he had been before going into the club. He had this wildly upset sense about him that truly made me worry that he would run out of the club screaming at any second.
I felt terrible. I had no idea how to reach Cale. I had gotten him drunk, drug him to this place, and left him in the corner to smoke thinking he had just needed time to get use to the surroundings. Now the only thing he wanted most was to get the hell out of there! We stood for quite some time in silence. My brain began working overtime as I tried a million different ways to start a conversation that would put the whole club thing into terms he could understand. When he agreed to stick it out I was extremely relieved. I had a second chance to make this a good night for him.
I settled in to spending time with him. Everyone else had left him to that corner just as I had. The guy was feeling weird enough and then no one would talk to him. Gee what fun! By the time the rest of the crew returned, I knew Cale and I were making major progress when he stole my hat and began sporting it proudly. I had to admit he did look good in it and I was too hot as it was.
Our whole group was now hanging out in the same area that Cale had been holding down the whole night. The lot of them seemed way more energized and were telling each other stores about their experiences from just moments ago. They were also cracking jokes about this particular guy that we had been watching all night. A stereotypical nerd he had thick rimmed glasses, plaid button down shirt and high water pants. All you needed was the pocket protector and the man was ready to calculate angles. I really couldn’t judge what his age was, but was utterly surprised to see that he had come alone and was indeed looking to meet girls. Every opportunity he took to put himself out there, I had to give the guy major props. He also had this rather strange River Dance thing which probably wasn’t working in his favor with the ladies. Jacob tried to get me to go dance with the guy. Normally I don’t back down from challenges like that (two specific occasions come to mind where I won money off my boss). It would’ve make for an interesting story and would probably brighten up the guy’s night, but I just didn’t feel like it. As the crew laughed about what our dancing would look like I knew that everything had worked out for that half of my party. Breaking Cale down was my one last goal.
Ironically it wasn’t as tough as I figured it would be. I just started dancing next to him for a while, which slowly moved to dancing with him. Practice and confidence aside, all that dancing eliminated his argument that he wasn’t capable; it was the same music just in the safety of a dark corner. Yet I wouldn’t have achieved anything until I got him on the floor and willing to do it again. How to get him out there was the tough part.
The rest of the crew was back and forth between standing with Cale and I and dancing in the other room. Jimmy wandered though a couple times to check on me and sought out Val for a dance. I was almost jealous. When Val came back and had a rather exasperated story to tell I had to laugh. Jimmy would always be Jimmy. After a few drinks the guy was a little more “touchy feely” that was for sure. Cale and I just continued to work on our collective dance moves. I knew from here on out it would be a comfort issue. It wasn’t about ability, and it wasn’t about the lack of will. This was about the age old fear of looking stupid in front of others.
I don’t really remember what it was that spurred Cale’s confidence. We had been dancing together for several songs when I finally asked him if he would go out on the actual dance floor with me. When he agreed I had to ask him again to make sure I wasn’t just hearing what I wanted. Moving onto the floor, which was now pretty crowded, I’m sure I had his hand in a death grip for fear he would punk out on me and run back to the safety of the shadows. But no, he danced with me. He was definitely nervous and unsure of himself, but I could only grin back at him in total encouragement. The guy had total potential to become quite the dancer if he put his mind to it. A lot of confidence, a little ego, and ton of practice would have the guy capable of getting some hardcore numbers come his twenty-first birthday.
When the song was done we headed back to the group. I didn’t want to push things just yet and I wanted to see the reactions from our crew. Holding Cale’s hand in the air like the winner of a boxing match I took a bow to the cheers the others gave us. I had won! Everyone was having a pretty good time and I had gotten Cale to dance, not only on the sidelines but on the actual floor. He also seemed rather eager now to stretch his dancing legs. Grabbing up Valerie the two of them trotted off to the other room to dance.
All at once I was left standing alone. Everyone was off doing their thing and I had no one left to watch after. Rather content to stand for a moment feeling quite the conqueror, I resumed crowd watching. More and more people were passing by me in obvious states of drunkenness. Even though the same group of people had disappeared up to the Heaven Lounge to drink and stare down on the main floor, very few of them had moved all night. Apparently some of them had managed to drink and dance at the same time or had pre-funked before coming down to the club. The joys of getting drunk for cheap or getting drunk when you weren’t old enough yet was what a pre-funk was all about.
Cale came running back to tell me that the Black Eyed Peas song “Lets Get It Started” was playing on the other side and he wanted to dance with me. It had been a song I had blasted in my car on the way to the club and he was stoked to both recognize it and to think he was actually dancing to it. Following as he ran back into the other room to find where he had left Val, I laughed quite thoroughly when I heard that he had slapped her ass during their little dance.
As the night wound down, Cale and I danced to several more songs and Jimmy returned for Valerie again. I had to laugh at her rather helpless look as she headed over to Tamm’s side to give Jimmy another work out. When we returned to the group by the wall, I could see the girls had finally taken off their shoes and the yawns were already starting. Packing it in, I made sure to hug each of them goodbye and ask if they’d had a good night. Hurting feet was a good reason to head home.
Cale and I didn’t stay much longer after that. After a nice little chat with Jimmy he went off to keep on with his night and the friends that Valerie had been on the phone with all night had finally arrived. It was time for us to take our leave.
Driving home that night I wanted to bounce in my seat for joy. The Clubbing Queen was still undefeated. Even if the girls and Jacob hadn’t had the absolute time of their lives, they’d danced and had fun. Cale had been a dancing machine, wanting me to crank up the music in my car the whole ride back to his apartment. “We should do this again!” were the magic words that meant I had truly succeeded.

As I thought back over the night I got the grand idea to see if I could get some comments from my lovely guests. What better way to show the kind of night we’d all had, than get it straight from the people who had experienced it (most of them for the first time ever)? So like LeVar Burton says on Reading Rainbow: “Of course, you don't have to take my word for it.”

Jacob
THE CROWD
Hmm... The crowd was well... interesting. I thought it was most bizarre that the guy who stole the dance floor with his moves was some white dude who looked like a skater, come on everyone knows us white dudes aren’t supposed to have rhythm.
FASHION STATEMENTS
Beth you are doing a great job of bringing chain mail back into the fashion forefront. 14th century knights are cheering you on from their shallow graves! Overall I didn’t see anything too surprising; however there were some ladies who were hanging out just a little too much.
FEELINGS ABOUT DANCING
Dancing was fun, I had a great time dancing with Amanda :) However, I probably would have felt a little strange there if I were to try and dance with someone I didn’t know. In fact some of those girls were downright scary. I’m glad I went with the group we had.
DRUNK FREAKOS
Lol, drunk freakos... aren’t they always great.
DJ'S
A little preoccupied at times, and simply not paying attention at other times to notice....(sorry I'll try harder next time!)
THE CLUB
The club was pretty cool, I thought it would be a little larger but it was still cool. The only complaint I had was the damn bouncer or whatever, that wouldn’t let me out the door after Amanda, Kristen, and Sarah were already out. I was about to kick his ass but I didn’t want to embarrass the big fella at work!!! (j/k) Then I had to try and find the “appropriate” exit and walk all the way around the block to find the ladies. Geez. Overall it was a good experience but definitely something I can only see myself doing periodically and only with a select group of people.

Sarah
Where to Start...
The overall night was fun because there was so much going on! I will never forget the guy in the plaid shirt and dressy pants looking like he was doing the river dance! He followed me and Amanda everywhere! Then Beth was supposed to dance with him... oh wow... bet that wouldda freaked him out completely! There were these 2 guys other than that, that came up to me and Amanda... introduced themselves and wanted to dance and Amanda said yes! Oh geez... that was a funny time and 1/2! The only complaint that I really had was my FEET! Heels killed me times like 5 bazillion so I would either need to find new heels that don’t hurt so much or go again in flip flops or SOMETHING.! Haha! But thank you Beth so much for taking us out! It was a night that I definitely will never forget!

Kristin
Going to the Element was indeed my first trip to an 18 an over club, being that I just turned 18 3 days before the trip. I was exited to go, even though the question of what I was going to wear was a little bit of a worry. I had been to the 16+ club called Dakotas when I was 15 of so. (ID was not needed, I just showed my ASB card and they believed me even though I’m so young for my grade) That was always really fun to go to once and a while, when you feel like dancing. I knew that Element was going to be something totally different so I was ready for something new. I enjoyed myself a lot that night, it worked out good that my boyfriend Landon and his friend Daniel ended up coming as well so we could have some dance partners without worrying about those strange guys that want to dance and know your name and where you grew up!! There were a lot of people there, good dancers, and as my boyfriend puts it..."hoes," there were a lot of those too. You could always tell who was an avid club attendee by their outfits and such, but I bet I looked as if it was my first time too by the way I was observing all the things going on. There weren’t a lot of drunken people, just the ones staring at you down from the top floor. The overall experience was a lot of fun and I’m glad I was with all my work friends, that always makes everything fun. I want to go explore other clubs too to see what’s cool the difference and such.

Valerie
My night at Club Element
It started off great, with Cale. He was so scared of dancing that he became a chain smoker for a night. Every time I looked at him, he was shaking and smoking. I found this hilarious.
As the night went on, it got more interesting. I met Beth’s friend Jimmy. All I can say about Jimmy is that he was a “touched individual”. When Jimmy first came in Beth introduced him to all of us. Over time he realized that I wasn’t dancing and he took this as me sitting down means I can’t dance. He was very mistaken.
Jimmy asked me to dance and I was feeling good at the time so I said yes. Boy, was that a mistake! So he led me on the dance floor and we started to dance, so I thought. All of a sudden I started to feel arms around my waist squeezing really tight. The first couple of squeezes I thought nothing of it, but the squeezes started to be followed by hard thrusts from the pelvis. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Black. Something everyone should know is, don’t EVER touch a Black woman’s hair when it’s all done up. Jimmy made this mistake and I had to let him know.
So we continued dancing and the only thing that was going through my mind was “this guy is touched!” Then suddenly my song came on and I really had to shake my groove thing. This really excited Jimmy. He began to stroke up and down my side and this made me feel a little weird.
Then when we were dancing he would sometimes stop and step back with his fist to his mouth and look at me. Finally I had to ask what the hell he was doing. He replied with “It’s just, it’s just” then put his fist to his mouth. I thought this guy was psycho! But I didn’t really think this till he pulled my by my hand off the dance floor saying that he wanted to buy me a drink. I don’t think he knew I was under twenty-one, but it didn’t matter because he never bought me a drink.
As soon as we got off the dance floor he ran to Beth to telling her how I can dance. I just sat down next to Cale who was still smoking. I asked Cale if he was ready to dance and he replied with a quick no. I just laughed.
Later in the night I finally got Cale to dance with me, I started off with a nice two-step then out of nowhere this guy smacks my ass. I had to turn around and look to see if this was the same guy that was so scared to dance five minutes ago. It was him and I couldn’t fight the laughter. While we were dancing a Black Eyed Peas’ song came on and Cale stopped dancing and said he had to find Beth and ran off the dance floor. I was confused so I ran behind him looking for Beth. I came to realize that he knew the song had felt like he had to share this with Beth. Crazy I know.
Not as crazy as me dancing with Jimmy a second time. Yes I know. Why would I put myself in that situation again? I was bored and wanted to dance. Before we danced a second time I told Jimmy I had a boyfriend. So while we were dancing he started the fist to mouth thing again and again I asked what was wrong. He replied saying, “It’s just, I mean, it’s just, you got a boyfriend.” I was thinking I just wanted to dance. I asked him if he wanted to stop, he responded with a no.
Eventually I got tired and lied and said my leg was hurting. So I left the dance floor and went to go sit down until my friend came.
Overall the night was full of laughs and very exciting.

Cale
Since moving to the Big City, I’ve been subjected to more foreign situations and environments than a country bumpkin beach kid should ever have to endure. When Beth announced the big work outing to the club, I knew that, for the sake of the social scene at work, I couldn’t refuse the invitation. Inside, however, ever fiber of my being was in unanimous consensus that this would turn out to be a very bad and potentially quite embarrassing experience for me. Putting me into a dance club and expecting me to have fun would be like putting an octopus in a pasture with some cows and expecting it to moo. That’s how I felt about the whole situation.
The low point of the night was standing in the work parking lot with everyone, clutching my Corona like a safety blanky, looking like a drunken (but well dressed) sociopath about to have an anxiety attack. I felt like the biggest uptight dork, but I was too loaded to do anything but stand there and look scared. And then off to the club we went.
The high point of the night was realizing I wasn’t going to die if I moved around a bit. Watching Beth light up when we headed for the dance floor made me feel dumb for wasting all my time in the corner making my own little environment of cigarette smoke and pure animal terror. Once on the floor, I still felt like I was on an alien world, but at least I was enjoying myself with everyone else.
I thought the club to be a little small and plain, but of course I’d never seen the inside of one before. The crowd reminded me of a high school dance, only with a higher percentage of drunken retards and slutty chicks about to fall out of their “tops.” I can’t make a worthwhile statement on my opinion of the DJs, since Hip Hop certainly ain’t my cup of tea. In fact, I’d be willing to say the half of my reluctance to dance was because the music was so unappealing to me.
Everyone in our little posse was dressed nice. Fashion was pretty far from my mind that night, though.
Overall, it was an eye-opening experience for me. I know Beth prides herself on turning people on to clubs and dancing and everything, and I’ll admit she pretty much broke me down and convinced me to give it a whirl, but I wouldn’t say it’s my new favorite past time. I’d do it again though with the right group of people, though.

Amanda
We've unfortunately lost Amanada to the phenomenon called College. We may never hear from her again.