I button up my shirt and check my teeth in the mirror one last time. Head into the kitchen and high five my two friends waiting for me with cups in hand; we raise the drinks to our mouths and one screams, "wait, let me put on the music." The latest Top 40 song is conveniently already cued up, so he turns it on with 'max volume.'
This, my friends, is the beginning of another night out on the town. But its not just any night, its tonight, and 'tonight's gunna be a good night..."
We confidently make our way to the club and get in line behind a school full of guys with popped collars and blazers and girls with heels and little black dresses. The music is pounding inside and gets us amped and even more energy is running through our veins now. We finish off the spiked cranberry juice we carried in a bottle, all so we can enter the club "ready". So ready. As the alcohol starts to set in, the knees and hips loosen up and the hands start to clap a little bit. Something in the back of my head says "this is not you", but the rest of my body is ready. The half hour wait is of no concern, cuz we enjoy the preview of the upcoming potential dance partners, maybe even talk to one or two before the suave approach comes later in the night. The wait is almost over, the door is getting closer to and the forever-cool bouncers are making way for the beautiful group of girls that squeeze past the line with a simple kiss on the cheek and a four-finger wave from the friend as they lead their way into the club. But in that group, looking close enough, you notice one of the girls looks a bit uncomfortable and, as you will see her later dancing with her friends who both have dance partners or again texting by herself by the bathroom, she just doesnt look like she belongs here. In fact, a lot of the groups of guys with their pointy-toed shoes and over-gelled hair and perfectly groomed 'ungroomed' look dont seem as though they belong here either....the more you look around, who does belong here...is this what life is all about?
These two hours in this room with loud music, intoxicated kids, and overdressed college students make so much sense by drink number five, but as the liquid confidence wears off and the drunk egos are moving and talking more now than before, the meaning of a 'good night' seems to be unimaginably superficial.
Hate is a strong word, so I refuse to use it freely and without real purpose, conviction, or sincerity. With that being said, I hate clubs. I hate everything about clubs. Being a young guy who certainly enjoys having a good time, being around beautiful people, and listening to good music, I have tried to like clubbing; I have even gone through weeks of time where I convinced myself that I actually like clubbing. But as I clear-minded and soberly write this, I can finally make these statements with the upmost sincerity. I have been to bars and discos in dozens of countries, with everyone from celebrities to Christian missionaries, in cities with great vibes and cities with no vibe, I have tried...boy have I tried. There are many reasons I so viciously despise these places; allow me a paragraph to explain just a few.
Seattle is a wonderful city with so much to do and a picturesque landscape; however, I do not like the people so I could never imagine myself living there. On the same note, there are some cities that are very average yet have amazing people. Needless to say, a lot of experiences we involve ourselves in, whether it be traveling, dating, or dancing, generally can be either a great pastime or a complete bore depending on the people you come across. I can confidently say that clubs have a conglomerate of the worst people. From the attention craving girls(who push guys away once they get that attention), to the socially challenged 'dudes' who threaten other guys with violence and win over girls by pushing free drinks in their face. The awkward conversations and attempts at being normal only force us to become less normal in search of that right mentality that is appropriately adjusted to be the perfect person to party with. Going into these places knowing it is full of creepy dudes and girls who dress like prostitutes may be appealing to some, usually those who love to sit around and recite memories of previous times they got drunk..but its fair to think differently of those people too. Every person inside the club bothers me, so much so that I find it amusing at how terrible these people are...or how terrible they become once they set foot in the club. From the overpaid cleavage-clad bartenders to the steroid-packed meat head Im-important-nowhere-else-in-the-world-except-at-this-door bouncers, I cringe simply thinking about these people. I know, I know, if it bothers me so much "just dont go Nick." But this pastime is such a part of our culture, and age group, that Id find it very difficult to completely avoid ending up in one of these places.
Those who are socially incapable of making friends and being physically with one of the opposite, or same, sex live for the club; the intoxication floods out the fear of rejection and the vagueness at the beataroundthebush attempts for a sexual encounter make the venti-sized liquids tax you for $9. Clubs will always serve a purpose and a demand...I suppose no blog entry or one-man boycott could make much of a difference. Next time, I will just find a quiet corner to enjoy a good conversation and a front row seat to the dry humping in red carpet outfits...'with a little bit of lime.'
