Go Garvin, it's your BIRTHDAY!
On Thursday, October 4th, 2012, I celebrated my 23rd birthday. I thanked God for life, and spent the majority of the day reflecting on the year that was and what I hoped to achieve this year. When I wasn't reflecting, I was being showered with birthday greetings, well wishes, and kisses from students and staff alike. My family and best friends called me, my favourite class sang me "Happy Birthday", and the teachers invited me to dinner. While all this was happening, my Facebook wall was alive with more birthday greetings from close friends, associates, and those who were reminded by the social networking site. Overall, by my standards, it was a quiet day. This fact didn't bother me because I knew that the next night, I was going to unleash my inner bacchanalist.
It was Friday, October 5th, 2012, the time was 9:30PM, and I was on the back of a motorcycle for the umpteenth time. I was on my way to a friend's house to await the taxi cab that would take us to Club Zouk. You see, my friend is also a Libra, and decided to invite me to an event that her friend was hosting. The idea was that we would celebrate our birthdays together; my ticket had been bought, so I thought, "Why not?" We would be joined by her boyfriend, some of his friends, and her friend who was supposed to be my date for the night. Eventually, we were on our merry way, trying to convince the cab driver to come back for us at sunrise.
As soon as the cab dropped us off at Zouk, I found myself wishing that he could come back in ten minutes instead of at sunrise. I mean, this disco had to be the shabbiest dance club in Neiva, and this judgment was based on just seeing the car park; the unpaved, muddy, and potholed car park. My imagination, forever running wild, gave me an image of the inside looking like an abandoned warehouse, with peeling paint, rats, more potholes, and Dr. Lizard. By the time, we were actually ready to enter the club; I had steeled myself to expect the worse. Thankfully, there was no Dr. Lizard on the inside, but the most elegant décor I had ever seen- hanging chandeliers, comfy, white leather couches, cute shot glasses with the word "ZOUK" stamped on them, and snazzy, silver tables. I actually felt like drinking from a small cup with my pinky finger aloft, laughing like I owned the world.
Aside from the elegant décor, something else occurred to me: in addition to the staff and promoters, we were the only people there. I did the only thing that seemed plausible: I started laughing scandalously while everyone (10 people) looked at me like I was crazy. How embarrassing to have put all your blood, sweat and tears into the planning of an event, and have only four people attend! I would have died! Luckily, my laughter and sympathy were not necessary as within 30 minutes of our arrival, other people started coming, and it seemed that everyone in Neiva had come out. And when I write that everyone came out, I mean, EVERYONE! There were a lot of mature people, and not my parents kind of mature, but older, like my Granny. One woman was actually escorted to her seat by her son, put to sit down, and hastened to cover her eyes from the strobe lights. Sure, we all need to get out of the house, but I'm sure that there is a lot of age appropriate entertainment ma'am, like bridge or bingo. Would this be considered ageism? Moving on…
Whenever I venture out to a club, I can never start dancing right away. I have to sit, sip on my Redd's, and wait for the right song to play. You know, that one song that seems to reverberate in your head and causes a sense of delirium to travel from the mole of your head to the soul of your feet, and you feel like screaming, "WOI!" You CANNOT control yourself, and the only thing left for you to do is shake what your momma gave ya! Luckily, my momma gave me A LOT, and once I heard this song, I was ready to go. It was all uphill from there as every song that played, no matter the genre; I just had to shake a leg. Within 45 minutes, I was sweating, hoarse from all the screaming, and aching all over after wining down low, repeatedly. Sigh, my bones aren't what they used to be! But, like a true Trini, the vibes cyah done!
After about three hours of dancing, it was time for the specially invited guest to perform. He was a DJ from "La Escuela de David Guetta", and seemed to be well known by the patrons, judging by the screams and wolf whistles. Initially, I was intrigued by what he had to offer, but once I discovered that his set was 45 minutes of techno music, I became disinterested. I decided to sit and watch everyone react to the pulsating, repetitive electronic music. Boy oh boy, did they react! People started going CRAZY; one guy was jumping on the couch in either glee or demon possession, a man and woman were dancing like chickens in one corner while another couple were gyrating and humping each other like worms in heat. I just had to laugh and shake my head.
Sometime during my 45 minute rest, I realised that I was really tired since I had danced non-stop for close to three hours. It was about time to leave; I needed my beauty rest. We gathered our things, and were just about to leave when I realised that I didn't have a souvenir from the night's experience. You see, I like taking something home with me to remind me of where I had been, especially if I had had a good time. I opted to take one of the shot glasses, and quickly deposited it in my pocket like a thief. I proudly posted a photo below:
Hee hee hee! Until the next post... CHAO!