Why am I not a fan of clubs? I'm not sure where to begin, honestly. I don't know what's to like about paying a cover charge just to be packed like sardines into a dance room with tons of dudes and girls acting as if they had to share one half of a brain cell. I don't understand why people at clubs seem to enjoy overpriced drinks that have become the norm at these places. I also wish someone would please explain to me this new ritual known as the "twerk" so that way I could make my way out of that god-forsaken place as soon as I realize it is being performed.
However, recently it was my 21st birthday which is just a way of saying that I can now legally do everything I've been doing since I was 17. A friend of mine named Jason (known as DJ Twin) sent me a message via Facebook and informed me that he was DJ-ing at a local club the weekend of my birthday, and as a gift he could put my name on a list so that I could get in for free. There was no way I was going to turn this down, even though it was at a club because Twin is a really nice person, and a hell of a DJ. He's done so much for me and he has never asked anything in return. So I try to support him any chance I get. Unfortunately this did mean I would have to take a break from my nightly routine of attempting to rationalize my fear and disgust of other human beings.
As I approached the club doors, one of the first things I see is some young guy being thrown out for picking a fight with security. The kid was relentless, though, even going as far as to threaten the security guards with a brick (yes you read that right). I expected the encounter to end in disaster, and lo was it so. Then I got bonus points when the kid was knocked unconscious by security.
Perspective thus gained, I walked through the doors of the club right after not paying a cover, and immediately approached the bar to buy a beer, wherein the bartenders looked at me as if I were lost. Oh I see, so the status quo for clubs is to buy a shot of something that rivals the taste battery acid, or something that's so fruity that it's pointless.
I then made my way through the cluster fuck that was the dance floor resisting the urge to mosh pit the hell out of everyone and approached the booth where my friend DJ Twin was playing music. I shook his hand, thanked him for everything, and then went to get him a drink as I figured it was the least I could do in return for the gift, plus I had finished my beer at that point and needed another.
As I made my way back to the bar through the dance floor, I began to notice how many random girls would start to grind on me as I was walking by. Due to the likely probability that they all had boyfriends and just wanted to see a fight, I would nudge them out of the way and stroll by as to obey the Toasty international law of go fuck yourself. I got to the bar, bought the drinks, and noticed a five dollar bill sitting on the bar that someone was just giving away, that is, not supervising.
I took DJ Twin his drink and luckily no cosmic twerkers descended from on high. Afterwards, I stuck around the club for about another hour, being surrounded by annoying sorority sisters who kept finding the urge to scream after every alcoholic shot they took, before I noticed the insides of my ears were leaking brain fluid. So I decided to call it a night.
In conclusion, I would like to thank DJ Twin for inviting me out, as well as going through the effort of getting me in for free. He was a spot on DJ and made going to the club more tolerable than it could have been. But let it be known that the day I go to a club on my own free will is the day I swallow barbed wire, pull the end out of my ass and floss myself to death.
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