College seems so long ago to me now. I still keep in contact with the handful of people that I truly called friends then. In four years I met a lot of people, and have come away with some amazing stories. There’s just something to be said for that “time” in a person’s life. Whether or not you were in college during those years, I firmly believe that eighteen to twenty-two are the years you remember most, for rest of your life.
Tuesday I got a phone call from my friend Nicole, one of the college associated handful. With a very tired voice she let me know that another girl who had I known, if briefly, had died. Julie had had a medical condition, which I knew the name of once, that had made her mortality akin to a ticking clock. But she was never the type to let that be the end of her personality. Living well beyond any estimate modern medicine could give, I was horribly sad to hear she had finally passed on. She was the same age as I, if not a year older.
Nicole and I had planned on going out dancing at the end of the week, but Julie had been one of Nicole’s best friends. We all knew she would die young, but that didn’t make it any easier now that the day had come. We decided to leave plans open to whatever Nicole felt was best for her. Hanging up the phone I tried to explain to RC who I had been talking about and was suddenly overcome with more grief that I had expected. The best way to even describe Julie was to state quite firmly that she was the perfect example of those who die young. She was quiet and sweet. A person who looked about her and always saw beauty. Why is it that those who are filled with hate and destruction live longer than these beautiful souls?
Plans ended up changing again by Friday. She and I met for dinner at my favorite restaurant, Talarico’s. Nicole mentioned that a book was being put together of stories and memories of Julie, which led to several funny ones that could never be appropriately passed on to her family. At Nicole’s statement that she hoped people would have funny memories to share when she passed on, I was suddenly taken back in time. Reminiscing over silly, if not stupid things we had done together in the past was a strange trip that I could only take with her. I’ve been so busy living my current life that I’ve never had the chance to laugh about stuff from the past with her.
Our plan of dancing was moved to Saturday and I was almost unprepared. I didn’t even think about it until the day of, using my lunch break to hunt down information on what was happening around town. I felt so out of touch. The people that I had once followed around the city were no longer in touch or didn’t play out on a regular basis any more. I had to find a good time the old fashioned way, glancing over club websites that had tons of flashing imagines to distract you from the amount they charged for cover and how early they started charging it.
A general plan in place I had a leisurely dinner, in which I ate way too much, and then slowly changed my clothes and primped. The problem with not getting ready in a flash and flying out the door is the amount of cat hair that accumulates during the process. Moving in stages, I had time to read while waiting for Nicole to arrive at my house. It isn’t until I’m wearing nice clothes that I realize that everything I own is covered in said cat hair. I ended up laying down a towel on my bed and making sure to ever vigilantly push my cat from climbing into my lap. The abused look she gave me the million times she tried was beginning to wear thin. Normally I’m a sucker for anything that cat does, but this was where I drew the line. As it was I had to take a lint brush to my pants twice before running to put something in my car and meet my friend as she parked.
That something I put in my car was a stuffed cat, small enough to fit in cup holder, and had the expression of eternal curiosity. That was Charlie, my little guardian kitty, and without explaining the whole story to Nicole I was a little embarrassed to carry the cat out and have her watch me put him in the car. The night I had gone out to see The Deepsleep Narcotic’s Company, I’d had a couple drinks and then had some more at the after-party at Lena’s house. This left me in a shocking state of intoxication where I no longer could think properly and drove straight to RC’s house like an illegal idiot. The fight that ensued was both expected and ridiculous on my part. I was so determined to drive the rest of the way home. RC had other, safer ideas. The next morning I woke up both in pain and feeling like a TOTAL retard, but he surprised me. After several manly knocks on the door, I found a rather innocent and fluffy looking culprit on the door matt. It was the stuffed cat I had been so in love with at the grocery store a while back. RC explained that Charlie was to stay in my car and remind me to make smart choices from now on. I had been expecting rightful disappointment and a fatherly lecture, but instead I got Charlie. As much as I loved the idea, the gesture, and the cat, I was still a little shy about being open about the whole ritual.
I decided to drive since Nicole had the night before. I had her listen to Bitter:Sweet on the way out, but it too laid back at that moment for me. I wanted to get jazzed up to go dancing! That led to more switching of CD’s and scrolling through music as we continued to talk. In the end as we came into the city, I realized I needed to be listening to the perfect song, Pink “You and Your Hand.” It is such an awesome song about being one of the girls and going out dancing for the sake of dancing. Not dressing up and trying to catch some guy’s eye. But men don’t usually go dancing for these reasons. So there is always that drunken jerk whose trying to buy you alcohol and take you home. I couldn’t help but sing along as I maneuvered through downtown heading toward the parking lot.
Nicole was the first to say out loud what I was thinking as we pulled into a practically empty pay lot. There was a time we both remembered ten o’clock rolling around and this particular lot being jammed. I was thankful that I didn’t have to worry about finding a spot, I could just pull into the one I always had when I had been going to Open House Thursdays at the Last Supper Club so regularly. Out of the corner of my eye I had seen the lot attendant walking toward my car as I pulled through the spot to face out. He motioned me forward as a spotter and met me at the pay station as soon as I had the cash from Nicole in hand. The guy was older and one I had seen before. He tried to chat with me while he got out a little yellow envelope and wrote down my stall number on it. I asked if the cost was still twelve dollars and he nodded absently as he fiddled with his stuff. Taking the cash, he handed back the two dollars and smiled at me. “It WAS twelve dollars. Tonight it’s ten.” I gave him a big bright smile and thanked him. Walking toward the club with Nicole, I mentioned that we had gotten a parking lot discount.
Heading into the club the music sounded awesome and the dance floor had a reasonable start. We stopped for a moment on the other side of the velvet curtain to look around us. I was immediately struck with how long it had been since I had walked in this club, even unimaginably longer since I had gone out on a weekend to this particular spot. I felt old and energized all at the same time. The first time I had walked in the door had been for a bachelorette party, from there it had been cycles of faithfulness for weekend nights, Open House Thursdays, Cocktail parties, hanging with the DJ’s, and now back to just being here to dance. Time seemed to fly past my eyes in a second.
Headed to the bar at Nicole’s direction I paced like a tiger still caught in memories of who and when I had once known. She was buying the first round and I was feeling brave, not wanting the usual Lemon Drop shot. Mentioning a Washington Apple, I said it was too early in the night to start with that. Nicole laughed and asked the ever present…"But why not?” I still had an aversion to Crown Royal since the fateful night I had about ten of them due to my friend Renzo repeatedly handing me another one, who was I to say no? Even that was YEARS ago, but the taste either rolled my stomach or made me shutter. There is nothing more embarrassing that a shot that decides it won’t be swallowed. Yet right at the same moment I realized I had no memory of locking my car. I had been so tickled about the two-dollar discount.
Returning to the bar I had to smile, Nicole was a genius. She had ordered the shots and water to go with them. Not wanting to stand at the bar I headed toward what I thought was an open table. We took off our coats and stashed them in a chair, watching the crowd around us and taking our shots. We were chatting about the crew of business causual people that were at the next table over when there was suddenly a voice from behind saying something about having stolen his seat. I never turned around as I explained I could move. Whoever the guy was I also heard a friend to my right chime in at the injustice of our presence. I began to worry I was about to deal the type of guy who goes to clubs looking to start fights. It wasn’t until the guy took it upon himself to put his arm around me and hug me tight, saying he was only kidding, that I realized this was a pick-up move. When Nicole looked up confused as to what was going on he did the same to her, moving in to hug her close as well.
Now he was just standing just behind us trying to talk. He started off badly. After saying that he was waiting for friends he immediately mentioned that he was in the military. Then he said that he hated the music that was playing. Explaining he was from California I gave him a funny look. The thing I had appreciated about the area in California I had just visited was the broader presence of dance music over Hip Hop. He then capped it off with a story of going to a club in California and being scared because he KNEW everyone was on ecstasy, all from the weird way they were dancing. After doing a terribly stereotypical version of something best done with glow-sticks, Nicole and I shared a look that immediately made me want to laugh.
She and I had become pros over the years of dealing with men together. We both hated my best friend Janai’s brand of “honestly” that always seemed to include pushing and shoving, or verbal abuse. Nicole and I played off each other, always polite and accommodating. Never giving the hint of anything more than platonic interest, unless there was more. We would smile and laugh at the guy’s jokes, but if he tried to corner one of us or cross that physical boundary, we could count on the other person being right there for the rescue.
The conversation wasn’t going anywhere. We tried to advise him that the downstairs would play “his” music, but it didn’t open until eleven. It was barely past ten-thirty, so he had a while to wait for both his friends he was supposedly meeting and music that fit his tastes. During this exchange I looked up and realized that the ‘Odd Couple’ was at the stage doing their freaky dance. This immediately made me ponder who else was spinning that night. These guys were specific DJ stalkers. As always they were dressed as if going to the park for a walk. The guy stood back to keep anyone from blundering near the girl as she half line-danced half flash-danced her way around the floor. There weren’t many brave souls out anyway.
After another drink and more crowd observations we headed to the floor at the first good song. It was pretty empty. Two guys were doing push ups and just goofing off by the door, two girls were obviously there for the current DJ, and some others were from the business crew of middle-aged people trying to party. They were at least here for fun reasons. We walked off the floor again when he played something terribly eighties, which we’re both sick of. But, as I explained this to Nicole, it was a smart move for an opening DJ. The room is filled with people that weren’t necessarily out for this specific music; for example the work party sitting next to us. All it takes is one song that they can recognize, even if it’s remixed, to get people to rush the floor and give the DJ a chance. A headliner would have to have a pretty fantastic remix to get “Celebration” by Kool and The Gang to fly.
The night progressed and Nicole and I danced our asses off. She ended up turning away several guys. I on the other had decided to entertain a certain gentleman who had pulled a flanking maneuver. The song playing was a Hip Hop mash-up but I cannot stand it when a guy just appears on your butt and starts grinding on it. I never turned around and kept changing up my style to feel him stumble around in order to keep up. He was a talented dancer from what I had seen of him before this unfortunate meeting. His hands stayed respectable, and for that I gave him the whole of the song he attached himself to me for. Yet, the whole time I was giving Nicole funny faces that kept her looking at the guy and back to me, waiting to see what I was going to do. At the end of the song I asked Nicole to follow me to the bathroom. I walked away without a word, simply moving forward to follow Nicole around the side of the tables and around the bar. Normally I at least turned to face the guy to wave goodbye or mention I’d be back, but not in this situation. He had invited himself to my personal bubble without a word; it seemed only fair.
The rest of our time on the floor was filled with shoves by girls that felt they should have more room that we were giving them, that “flanking” guy trying attach himself as if he had a permanent invitation, and the constant flow of people coming in the door and crossing through us to get to the downstairs area. A couple girls had decided to take over the Go-go platforms off to both sides of the stage and spent most of their time with their backs to the crowd. Both were plain looking sorts of girls that really didn’t seem like the type to jump on stage for dancing. They did well enough and I could tell they were having fun, so that was all that mattered. Nicole laughed and said that had been us once, but she wasn’t about to do such a thing now. Part of me wanted to jump up there and do my thing as well; prove to myself I wasn’t old yet. Then I reminded myself that I hadn’t really gotten my groove back yet, my butt needed to stay on the floor. Less embarrassing that way.
When DJ Cameo walked in the door with his gear I knew at once that was who the Odd Couple was waiting for, but disappointingly he played a weird mix of things that weren’t what I would call his usual style. Right when he took over the decks the opening DJ was under the tables and unplugged something he shouldn’t have. The whole dance floor shouted as the music stopped at once and the two DJ’s looked around them in panicked horror. Back under the table the opening DJ dove and plugged back in whatever it was that was needed. The record that had been playing made an awesome "slow-motion" sound as the turntable tried to catch up.
By twelve-thirty I was ready to go home. The music was blah and the people around me on the dance floor were maddening. A woman who looked older than Nicole or I had wandered over to our area and was clinging to a guy dancing. She was in an impossibly short dress so I originally thought she had to be wearing pants; it was just a long sparkly top that had caught my eye. Nope it was indeed the shortest dress I had ever seen. The woman was desperately intoxicated and just rubbing herself on the guy she was clutched onto. She stumbled into us a couple times but I tried to ignore the whole thing. When the guy she was attached to and his friend carried her up on the stage I was annoyed. She proceeded to just push her mans face into her stomach and keep rubbing on him. The whole time he and his friend are giving each other the “Yeah she’s a nasty slut” look. Men are so fucking awful. They weren’t doing anything but trying to put her farther on display. When someone walked across the stage to talk to DJ Cameo she was on the guy in a flash, rubbing and grinding on the unsuspecting fellow who also turned out to be a male opportunist. There are times when I wonder if there is a decent man left in the world. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.
After the woman kicked her shoes off in the corner like she was just dancing in her living room, she hopped up to the Go-Go platform in order to please her man and his friend, as well as show the dance floor what her panties looked like. Nicole and I were totally disgusted with both parties. She was obviously living life to the fullest at the moment but her guy friends were certainly NOT friends. In the end, she ran off the stage barefoot and was hanging on to one of the bouncers. I could only shake my head. I hope she got home safely.
Headed to the bar to tab out, I felt pretty good about being generally tired and sweaty from dancing. I was disappointed however that three shots of Washington Apple hadn’t done a thing to create even the slightest good-time buzz that evening. I had been sadly sober that night and regretted my hearty supper. Damn it! The cheese and pasta must have been a wonderful buffer. It was good that I wasn’t about to drive while intoxicated but I had wanted to at least feel a little loose tonight. Oh well.
My second discount for the night was my tab. We had been paying sixteen dollars each for our last two rounds, but the bill for my credit card was nine. At first I had been distracted because she had handed me a restaurant style leather bill-book, not the usual clipboard and pen. When I opened it, the inside lit up, back lighting the credit slip in a bright white window. It was ingenious! For once I could read the charge in the dim lighting and I knew which copy I was suppose to sign. I wasn’t going to say a word about the amount; giving a good tip we headed out.
On the way home Nicole mentioned that she was up for Taco Bell or Denny’s, and I thought that was a marvelous idea. I just couldn’t decide which I wanted more. Remembering a Denny’s along the way we were headed, I made the detour. There was a rowdy crowd on one end of the restaurant, standing in the aisles and basically shouting with laughter. I was really thankful when the server led us the opposite direction for seating. Our side was silent and basically empty. The group that had been sitting there got up and left when they found out something they wanted was unavailable. I can’t help but think about all the Denny’s I had been to over the years, after a good night of clubbing. Hash browns was something I had started craving, and but I couldn’t seem to justify the side order by itself. Again Nicole came to my rescue and said we should split something, which we decided should be cheese sticks. Mmm!
It had been a good night out. Nicole insisted that she remembered the men being better looking when we had been “hunting” on the dance floor. I said we were less picky in those days, which made us both laugh and cringe as we separately thought of the real winners we had met in clubs; none of them worth mentioning now. In the end I think things are different. Kids today don’t go out until midnight, and it’s a different sort of man that's to be found on the floors of House clubs. Those guys use to be the genuine few with how underground Dance music had been in this area. As it grows more mainstream I see the same troubles happening in the club that I had once said only happened in Rap music clubs. Maybe mainstream is what kills a genera. Maybe human kind just can’t let anything be good for long. All I can say is that I’m glad I’m not hunting in that crowd anymore. I think we both are.
