On Friday my friend SS invited me to go out with her boyfriend and one of his friends. She suggested a place called China Lounge, which was "in my neighborhood." The building is on my commute to the subway and looks like a dilapidated whorehouse, the kind of place where I'm going to be Taken and sold into white slavery or something. But since I'm hard up for friends, I obviously still agreed to go. Sorry, mom.
As it turns out, the club has actually moved into a new building on side street even closer to my flat and they just never took down the other signs. Like my own little MPD annex within walking distance. Score one for the home team.
One thing I appreciate about the places I've gone out to here is that high heels are not required. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good pair of heels, I just prefer looking at them versus wearing them. The "my feet hurt" excuse is best used to skip out of a bad date than miss out on dancing! Also, the dress code is a little different and I feel compelled to own up to the fact I wore out jorts with tights underneath them. No, I have not become Asian. Everyone does it here!
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| Stop judging me! |
The night was made even better because I've finally gotten my standard drink order down. I had learned a few weeks earlier that asking for a vodka soda does not go over well here because they drink carbonated mineralwasser (aka soda) most of the time and would instead give me tonic water, which I think tastes like sugar water fermented in an old shoe. No thank you. But if you ask for vodka water with lemon, it comes out perfect. SS commented on how she thought it was weird at first, but was actually surprised with how refreshing it is. Welcome to America, my friend, the land of opportunities.
Another thing I've learned is that I'm also really good at dancing to house music. (Don't ask for a second opinion on that one.) But really, if I'm in the dancing zone, I'm all about just pulsating my entire body to the music while keeping my feet in place, not unlike a tilt-a-whirl. Maybe if I have a little personal space I will hop from foot to foot while throwing my hands in the air. I also like to think of it as my workout for the day and that I'm burning off tons of calories (which I proceed to put directly back into my body in the form of the aforementioned vodka sodas).
Anyway, apparently this was all (shockingly) working in my favor because a very precious German ended up dancing with me for the rest of the night. I was curious about how old my baby-faced friend was considering 18 year olds are allowed to go to clubs, but it turned out he was 23, unfortunately not quite putting me in the cougar status column.
Although a little disappointed, I reminded myself that there's always next weekend.
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