Sunday, January 13, 2008

Dancing Queens

I went dancing Saturday night with Rachelle and Val. It's been a long time since I've got out to a club to dance. And it was quite a shock.

We got to the club, which was in Pioneer Square, around 9pm. For reference, Pioneer Square is where the Mardi Gras riots were my first year here. Mom immediately called me (because it made national news) and begged me to move home. I don't go to Pioneer Square very often. Little too rowdy for me. But we were there early, we parked pretty close to the club, and it wasn't too hoppin' yet. We did have to walk through Occidental Park, which just scares the shit out of me.

Ah, the club scene. I felt pretty hip. Had on my semi-fitting jeans (because I still don't have any jeans that aren't too big for me), new black clingy shirt and new black patent leather heels. I blended well. So did Rachelle and Val. The youngsters started pouring in around 10pm and the people watching began.

And because I now think in blog postings, some notes:

* I started checking out the guys and I found myself looking for wedding rings. Ha. Married guys don't go to these clubs. Married guys go to the pubs in their neighborhoods where they can stay close to home in case their wives call them or their kid gets sick.

* Girls grope other girls alot for attention. I was assuming the gaggle of chicks at the bar were gay, but Val pointed out that no, they probably just wanted attention. And the best way to get the attention of men? Make out with other girls. Duly noted.

* I am too short and not chesty enough to attract the attention of a bartender. I had to use the 5'9" well endowed (and proud, judging by her itty bitty tank top) blond standing behind me. She was happy to help.

* Music moves people in some very strange ways. One guy had little LED lights (like you'd attach to a key ring) in his hands and was putting on his own laser show on the dance floor. He had rhythm. I'll give him that. Which is more than I can say for over half of the other dancers. On woman, who had the body of a ballerina (complete with her hair in a bun) literally strutted back and forth like a chicken. She had her shoulders pulled back, and her head would jut forward to the beat. Just hypnotizing. Apparently the robot is not dead. At all. And one cute, young boy was doing calisthenics in the corner. He worked up quite a sweat. I'm sure the people who were watching me have all kinds of comments about my dancing, but remember, I'm secure and full of myself these days, so I'm okay with what everyone else thinks about me. I know I got rhythm.

* People pay money to stand in a loud, crowded club and talk on the phone. Or text. I wish I had actually taken MY phone in so I could have gotten a photo of all of the people on their phones. that irony?

* No matter how thin I get, I will never, ever wear some of the things I saw the women wearing there. A skirt that is so short you can see the little curves of the bottom of their butt cheeks. Men, do you really find this appealing? If so, alright. I'll work on it. But I can't guarantee the same results.

* Clubbers worship DJs much like I worship Bob Schneider or Patty Griffin. At one point, everyone on the dance floor was facing the DJ booth, screaming and yelling like they were at a concert. The DJ would do....something.....with the music, I have no idea, but apparently it was quite impressive, as the crowd cheered again. I just looked at Rachelle and mouthed "WTF?"

After a while, Val motioned me to come down from the second level, where I was watching all of the activity. She asked if I was ready to leave. I said "Sure, you guys are ready?" Val replied with "Rachelle's knees are hurting and I have to get up early, so we're outta here."

It was midnight. We are not young pups anymore.

I took some Aleve before I went to bed. It seems to have warded off any of the aches I was dreading this morning. Still might take an epsom salt bath tonight.

But I'm looking forward to doing it again soon.

1 comment:

The Mysterious Traveler said...

I have a theory about the people yakking on their phones in the clubs, because I saw it at the Wayne Hancock show at the Tractor. Since it would be impossible for them to hear anything, or for the people on the other end to hear them, my theory is that there isn't anyone on the other end and they are just pretending to have a conversation. Now that you can't smoke in a club, it's what you do with your hands and your mouth. Unless, of course, you decide to grope the person next to you...