Days of Yore

Last night I took a walk down memory lane. I finally went out to collect my birthday drink, even though I’m 4.5 months late. I went out to one of my favorite bars to hear a DJ friend spin, and it was fantastic.

I was reminded of my younger days, when I was a club/raver girl. Just about everyone I knew and associated with was in the same clique, and we had a social schedule to rival that of an 1800’s ton matriarch’s. But one of the best parts of it for me was the music. I was crazy about house, and even though I’m out of touch with what’s out now, I still love it.

After a small family gathering, which included the imbibing of margaritas and apple martinis, I decided to actually go out. So, I traipsed off to Midtown, where, on a Saturday night at 11:30 pm, I was lucky enough to find a parking space only about 20 yards from the bar. Huzzah!

And then I walked into a den of prancing Nancies. Man, I love gay men. There’s nothing like breathing air scented with Polo and Kenneth Cole, and hearing giggles that are higher pitched than my own. I really miss being a Hag. Anyway, this bar used to be filled with aging ex-club-goers like myself; now, it seems like it’s mostly a haven for the wonderfully fabulous.

By the way, apparently the extremely streamlined, 50’s style skinny-legged pants are still in fashion with the light in the loafers set. Who knew?

Anyway, I went up to the bar and order a whiskey on the rocks. I think I shocked the bartender, since most of the drinks I saw around were either beers or pastel-colored fruity drinks. What can I say, I like whiskey. Well, I really like Irish & Scotch whiskey, but Jack will do in a pinch.

So after I said hello to a couple of old friends, I found a seat and sat back to chill and enjoy the music. I gotta hand it to Jay: he was on fire last night. My head was in a constant state of the “club bob”, and my shoulders were rocking like I was having a seizure. The club bob, by the way, is something that you generally only see in ravers or club kids. See, when metal-heads are rocking out, their head bob action is an up-and-down vertical motion, where the chin is going down on the downbeat, on 1. The club bob, though, is more of a horizontal motion, where the head moves forward and back, with the head going back on the downbeat, on 1. Almost as if the bass is so strong and overpowering, that your head is retreating in reverence every time it drops. Anyway, even now, years after my clubbing days, I can identify old club kids at shows and concerts, just by the way their head bobs. Although this isn’t 100% accurate, as I have noticed that rappers are doing this, too, while they drink Hennessey & Cristal, and talk about women being bitches & hos. But we were doing it over 10 years ago, so it’s ours. Nyah nyah.

I got seriously sidetracked… so I’m sitting there enjoying myself, and the DJ plays some old tracks for me. Let me tell you, there is nothing like having a custom set played for your enjoyment! I heard tracks I haven’t heard in 9+ years. And even better, he did a “retrospective”, playing some of the best tracks from the past year, since I haven’t been out in a coon’s age. I felt like a junior reporter, running up to the booth every 10 minutes to peer over his shoulder to find out the name of a song I really liked. My favorites of the night were “Days Like This” by Shaun Escoffery (Spinna & Ticklah remix) and “A Pain That I’m Used To” by Depeche Mode.

So it was a good night. I started out with margaritas & apple martinis and wrapping presents, and ended up with whiskey & shots and house music. Joy to the world, indeed.