Squared, Cubed, and Tikied

We were scheduled to meet the ladies at the Fenix Underground at 10:15. Being that we had to kick some ass at darts, and then finish our Guinness, and then wait to get money out of the ATM (I had done this before heading up to Seattle, but I guess no one else had thought ahead), we didn’t get there until about 10:45.

Fenix Underground is big. Big and in my opinion, pretty classy. Everyone in there seemed to be having a good time, and it wasn’t too packed, at least that early in the evening. We entered on ground level, and then went down the stairs. Having never been there before, I just tried to keep someone I knew in sight so that I didn’t get lost, abandoned and killed in some Seattle back-alley. Downstairs the music was pumping, there were light shows on every wall, and as people danced their shadows played in the light. It’s as much fun to watch silhouettes dance as it is people. We met up with our female cohorts, who had evidently had to put up with some unwanted male advances before we’d arrived, but who’d been having a grand old time without us nonetheless. Still, they were happy to see us, us them, and we immediately jumped out on the dance floor and got our respective grooves on. My groove goes a little like, “Bom-bom-bam-chica-chica-bom-chica-bom-bom-bam-bidda-bidda-bam-bidda-bom-bom-bop”. You know, but not in a porn music sort of way, which the word/sound “chica” always seems to invoke. Having practiced “dropping it like it’s hot”, I shook my bootie, to everyone’s delight, and we had a grand time.

I’d never been to a club with a date. I’d never really danced with a girl I liked outside of structured partner dancing (swing, tango, salsa etc). And frankly, I didn’t really like club dancing that much, until I had someone to do it with, and it became a whole lot more fun. I can see now how people pair up at clubs, if only because it’s a lot more fun to dance WITH someone than by yourself, and the tension can get sexual very quickly. I also think it’s the least constructive way to meet people ever, seeing as how you have no idea if you have anything in common other than you like to go grind it every now and then. But I guess for some, that doesn’t matter so much as what they got and how they can move it.

We spent a little over an hour at the Fenix, all told, which passed quickly. Then some of the girls wanted to move on, seeing as how we’d payed for an all-club pass, why stay at one? I would have been perfectly content staying there. I figure if you’re having a good time, why leave? But we left, anyway, and went to Tiki Bob’s. It sucked. The place was packed, so that walking from the entrance to a place to dance took five minutes, threading through hot sweaty people who either looked like they were wearing too much make-up or too much testosterone. Then we tried dancing, but kept getting bumped by people passing through the crowd. All the guys were wearing tight shirts and had very serious looks on their faces, as if by looking constipated they might attract a mate. The girls were, for the most part, in short halter-top style outfits and tight pants, sporting painted-on characterless faces and a frenzied need to exhibit gleaming in their eyes. If you can’t tell, I was a bit freaked out by the place, but tried to ignore the surroundings and just dance with the people I was with, which worked to a tolerable extent.

We didn’t stay there long, thankfully. Twenty to thirty minutes later we escaped into the crisp night air, breathed thankfully, and bought some really expensive sausages from a vendor set to rake in the dough from all the late-night partiers. We discussed going to another club, something to do with cowgirls (evidently someone wanted to ride the mechanical bull). But feet were sore, people were tired, it was after two in the morning, and we decided to call it a night. But not before we decided we’d hit Denny’s on the way home. Something I wasn’t ecstatic about, but I had four other people in the car I was driving, and by the time we got there some coffee and sugar to keep me awake was sounding very tempting. Better to be wired than dead on the side of the road, I always say. So we stopped about a half-hour south of Seattle, piled out of the car, and tumbled into Denny’s. Our other group met us there, and we sat around for a solid half-hour before our food got to us. You’d think that Denny’s management would realize that they’re going to get a crowd piling in just after two on a Saturday night / Sunday morning, but they seemed oblivious. So we were stuck with one, not overly competent server (he didn’t do too badly, really) serving about ten tables with a combination of about forty people. In a restaurant where everyone wants full coffee all the time, that’s not a good combination.

I chowed on my coffee and apple pie a la mode (I told you I wanted coffee and sugar), and felt much more awake afterwards, if slightly loopy. We chowed, we payed, we left, as often happens in Denny’s, and made our way back to Olympia without further adventure.

I doubt I’ll go up to Seattle every weekend to hit a club, but I did have a blast and I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Olympia has its share of clubs, but the best ones are all gay clubs, and sometimes it’s nice to get out of Dodge and try something new. Still, the nice thing about partying in Oly is that once the evening has wound its way down, you don’t have to drive an hour to get home. Thank god for Denny’s ….