While back in the day, going clubbing was the weekly event that our teenaged lives revolved around, yesterday, there was no hint of that reverence that once was. Ready? I give you...the comparison table:
Back in the day | Last night | |
ETD | 11:00pm | 10:30pm |
Time needed to get pimped out | 2.5 hours | 15 minutes |
Pre-party activity | Drinking | Napping |
Attire | Next-to-naked skirt/shirt; stilettos | Jeans, shirt, flats |
Parking | Far, but as cheap as possible | Right across the street; premium |
Drinks | Whatever's cheap | The good shit |
# of ppl I check out | Every one of them | None of them |
ETD from club | When the lights go on | 1:30am. Pronto |
Total time in club | 4-5 hours | 2 hours flat |
Restaurant to eat after | Markham Station | Markham Station |
I guess somethings never change.
But seriously, things happened last night that just made me laugh. First off, as we neared the clubbing district, we came across a R.I.D.E. check blocking up Richmond Street. None of us in the car were any where close to intoxicated so we knew we weren't going to have any problems. However, when Dimps rolled down the window and prepared to have to breathe into the officer's face, he instead leaned through the window and stuck his hand in across Dimps to Sherman.
"Hey, Sherman! Long time no see! How you doin' man?"
While Dimps and Señorita were surprised, moments like those ceased to surprise me long ago--Sherman knows EVERYONE.
Second, was the line-up. I remember the days when we were the regular customers with the best hook-ups from knowing the right people on the inside. We were the ones that you'd go to to see if you could get shooed inside with us instead of stuck in line. Last night, the 5 of us (because Squiggly had joined us by then) were all prepared to hang out and wait our turn in line because none of us had bothered to set up our own guestlist. However, the tables had turned: we found ourselves being usher to the front of the line as the entourage of Squiggly's little brother and cousin. Dang.
Next, was the music. You know when you go clubbing and you get in there and dance your heart out to all the latest hits, only stopping to get drinks when the songs switches to an old-school mix that you neither like nor know? Yeah, well, last night, ALL of the songs were awesome--those old-school mixes were our favourite songs; Boyz II Men, Poison, Salt n Pepa. While we were re-living our golden dance days, the crowds around us departed from the floor, wondering what the heck the DJ was playing.
Ugh. And then, out of the middle of nowhere, out popped a blast from the past. No description here, but let's just say some people never change, and I spent his entire appearance pre-occupied with the threads on Sherman's shirt. Squiggly was nice enough to point and laugh at me after said blast made his exit to chase the sweet asian ass that he so fevers for...still.
There was even a moment that night that Señorita found herself tempted to tell the guy getting too weirdly close to her that she not only had a boyfriend already, but that the poor little guy hitting on her was probably young enough to be her son.
This by no means is a rant though. It's just funny how things change. I had a GREAT time last night. I just needed my posse of five that was too old to blend in, but young enough to still know how to par-tay! And for the record, I do not think of myself as old, it was just all relative last night.
2 comments:
Squiggly's dreamy...
Too bad he'll never believe it, eh?--he knows too much about me and my laugh! But I swear it's true!
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