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My thoughts on standard nightclubs:

I’ve never been a fan. Maybe I’ve never been to a good one. Over time it’s become less of the wretched-hive-of-scum-and-villainy feeling that makes me distrust it; it’s just the fact that I don’t see the fun. Let’s be blunt for a second: getting drunk and rubbing up on people seems generally slimy (for men and women equally). If that’s what you’re into, sure, go for it, but take that away, and what do you have? A crowded place taking itself way too seriously with overpriced drinks and DJ Generic with his phat beatz.

(The place we were at on Friday had a particularly generic DJ. That or I’ve been spoiled by good ones (such as the one who ran the late night in Sacramento two Fridays ago))

Last night, through tutorial by a friend of mine, I figured out club “dancing” a little more, in partner dancing terms. I’d call it a drunken two-step. Oh, and the girl leads, unless you’re a real slimebucket. It’s kinda standing there and bouncing to her rhythm. Proper weight shifting optional. I say that like it’s a big revelation; of course it’s not. Maybe I had higher hopes that there was some rhythmic styling I wasn’t seeing.

So, what then to do on a Friday night, other than partner dance?

Answer: Find a small bar (like we hit up afterward) with pool tables and a friendlier, laid-back atmosphere. Going out should be about chatting and laughing; ostensibly, the reason we go to Sparky’s after 920.

I’m more Cheers than A Night at the Roxbury.