Sarah Goes to Hell; ( clothing optional )

In my previous post, I said that I was going to go to a club called "purgatory", downtown. Matt's brother Anthony turned 24 and since he works for hotels.com, he got us all rooms at the Wyndham so we wouldn't have to drive back to Denton. Going to "clubs" isn't really my thing, you know...where greasy guys doused in aqua de gio and rum & coke stand around just waiting to use their latest pick-up line. Give me darts and foose and pool tables and cheap drink specials anyday, but VIP, cover charge, 10 dollar cosmos....blah. I do like to dance though, and I do like Anthony and wanted him to have a good birthday. So. I spend about 30 minutes in Dillard's trying to find a top that would be appropriate for said dance club, but wouldn't make me look like a fatty or a whore. I ended up just yanking this pink thing off a hanger and paying for it.

At around 8, Matt and I check into our hotel and it's really nice. I take a little nap, even. The plan was to leave at 9:30 to avoid having to stand in line or pay as much cover. I put on my pink halter top-thing. Since I was too tired and pissed off to try it on in the first place, I discover it's pretty much see-through and too low-cut. I fuss with it and ask Matt to honestly tell me if it looked too slutty. He makes cracks, which pisses me off even more. " You don't look slutty, you look hot". All women know that this in fact does mean your ensemble is a little too tart-ish. I didn't bring anything else so I had no other choice than to go with it. I practiced not slouching when I walked to ensure minimal boobage.

9:30 rolls around and I wonder why we aren't leaving. Birthday boy and Julian arrive at the hotel and the guys decide to have shots in the hotel bar. They buy me a martini, which I am grateful for. Matt buys another shot for his brother. Who, is the driver...great. I say something to the effect of " we should be leaving now...I don't want to pay 20 bucks just to get in to this stupid place" ( the martini is going to my head). Matt gets offended. He does the Matt thing and asks to see me outside to tell him that I'm making a scene. I tell him we're not millionaires and it's stupid to throw money away like that. I don't know what it is about some guys who fight over who gets to buy the next round. It's not like your virility and manhood is attached to your ability to purchase alcoholic beverages. Anyway, I do the Sarah thing and stop talking all-together until we finally get to Purgatory. Where we proceed to pay 10 dollars to park the car.

Sure enough there's a line, and Anthony is buzzed enough to say " hey! let's see if we can just get to the front of the line!" , where our other friends are. I stand there and say, " that's not going to work", but no one listens to me. I follow the guys to the front and sure enough we are apprehended by a large bouncer who gives us the option of going to the very end of the line, or paying for VIP cover. They opt for 30 dollar VIP entrance cover. Siiiigh. After being frisked by a metal detector wand, we are in. Signs everywhere advertised that the CASA radio station is throwing some sort of bash there. CASA plays a kind of music called "regaeton", Spanish music derived from tejano, pop, rap, and r&b. I quickly realize I'm probably the only white girl in the building. I am ok with this though...everybody needs to feel that once in awhile.

So. This club has 3 levels; hell, pergatory, and heaven. Hell is a horridly hot room with shiny red vinyl walls. When I walked in, they were playing the " gettin' some head" song. I am at a loss of who performs this ditty. We move on up to Pergatory, where they are playing salsa music. This is nicer...the walls and furniture are gray, but there was no place to stand though. We move to Heaven, where they were blasting some Shakira. I am no longer self conscious about my shirt when I see 250-lb girls stuffed into spandex dresses which are cut down below their belly buttons. Oh, and aparently ass shorts, a sequined thing that could double as a bra, bathing suit, or a coat for a small animal is appropriate attire for twirking. Yes, "twirking" is a new word I learned...basically a mix between sex and dancing. Matt sees I'm having a bad time and gets Julie ( my fellow garland girl who had just arrived and was as horrified as I was ) and I some shots. 5 minutes later I'm laughing. I'm laughing at everything and everyone. I laugh at the floor-to-ceiling windows and the view of downtown. I laugh at the green building and the reunion tower ball, blinking in the night. Matt's thinking I've lost it. I thought about just how ridiculous this club lifestyle was....but then, does the outside world think that my hobbies are ridiculous too? We finally go to dance. Or, I try. They play something with accordians to like, a dance beat. I think about my step-dad Frank and his love of that accordian-laden music. When he would blast it in our house and I would feel rage from my head to my toes and would blast Everclear or Nirvana to retaliate. I started laughing hysterically again. Matt says " what? what?!"

A little later, friends have left and other friends had shown up. Sarah Principesa ( from New Jersey ) is living it up, big hair flopping everywhere. Matt gets us a shot called a "royal fuck". I know this will be the end of me, but knowing that he probably just spent 40 dollars...I go ahead an down it the best I can. I watch a guy who was probably no taller than 5'2" dance up on a girl who was probably 5'11". The lights come up and the DJ says something in Spanish and puts on a quality song..." Oh-Oh-oh Oak Cliff, fuck yeah! That's my 'hood!" Everyone knows this song and the sex-dancing intensifies. ( Oak Cliff is a part of Dallas where....well, a lot of my students used to live there. They feel a lot of pride and ownership of tha 'hood.) I watch and wonder if I can download this song off i-tunes.

I don't really remember leaving Hell, but we got in the car and I was missing an earring , and Matt was shouting directions to Sarah Principesa on how to get to IHOP. So, there was Ihop. I don't think I was hungry but I consumed an entire country bacon omlette drenched in tobasco.

Almost 100 dollars, 7 drinks, 1 cigarette, and 1 omlette later, I ended up back at the hotel with my shoes in hand. I probably shortened my life at least by 2 years in this one night. The general consensus was...we're not going back. :)

What a great kick-off to summer though!