For those just joining, you'll be totally lost if you don't read the immediatly preceding rambling. (Stupid, I know, but Netscape's buggy memory leakiness necessitates it.)

A small crowed had gathered outside, waiting for the doors to open. It didn't take long for it to happen.

Upon crossing the threshold, my sense of anticipation came to a climax. The usher asked to see my id, I presented it, and was in. The pounding rhythm could be heard from the foyer, as I made my way toward the main hall. Gotta love that 80s sound.

lol. (no apparent reason whatsoever)

Enter the big room. A bar in the back, near the entrance. Convenient. There were only a few people initially. I noted with some amusement that, although the sign had contained instructions to dress like the 80s -- a $100 gift certificate to some place I forget would be awarded to whoever had the best costume -- the only ones who actually looked the part were the employees. Everyone else was just wearing normal clothes.

I decided if I was going to do this, I might as well go for the full effect, and proceeded to the bar and ordered a beer. The waitress, having to come within inches of my face, and shout even then to be heard, asked me what kind I wanted. Not having a clue, I asked what they had. She shouted something into my ear that I couldn't quite understand above the roar, I shouted "I'll have one", not really knowing what the hell I was even asking for. She got the idea though, and brought back a glass filled with dark golden liquid. I heard the "two fifty" part, handed her three ones.

When she brought back the change, I noted that although I held out an open hand, she placed the coins on the counter for me to pick up. It didn't take much thought to realize why. Must be a tough job.

I carried my beverage to a nearby table, had a seat, and proceeded to take in the atmosphere. Pretty much what you would expect at a dance party. A DJ up on the stage, colored lights moving around. Dance floors. Three different levels, descending from the back of the room. ("Levels, Jerry! Levels!")

Before long, I heard a tune from an artist I expected to hear, but it was most certainly not 80s material. I wasn't complaining though, cause it was one of my favorites off of the Ray of Light album. With a wacky, remixed twist, of course.

Gradually, a few more people began to flow in. But a funny thing: Nobody was dancing. Everyone just came in, ordered their drinks, and sat at the tables. Oh well.

After a bit, some real professionals on the stage started doing dance numbers. One guy who was up there... wow. On his head, spinning about a zillion rotations a second. He was cool. There was another one who was also very good, and a girl. She wasn't so great a dancer as the other two, but what she lacked in talent, she made up for in cuteness I guess.

I felt sorry for them, because after dancing for a while, they tried to motion people in the audience to start dancing too, but nobody would. What a lousy crowd. Repeatedly. They finally came down to the main dance floor, where the normal people were supposed to be dancing, and started doing their tricks there. Again, motioning everyone else to join them. Bunch of morons. (And, being the totally untalented dancer that I am, I didn't feel like venturing out all by myself.)

I finished the last of my beverage, went to the restroom, and when I returned, the professionals had vacated. Apparently they had given up. Who could blame them?

Well, eventually, the main lights went down, and a few brave ones did get up, go to the floor, and start dancing. A pair of girls, who had been standing a few meters from my position, proceeded to the floor. Initially, I wasn't sure whether they were a couple friends in search of a good time, or a couple who were already having a good time. After watching them for a minute, I decided it was the latter.

Really funny anecdote: A few minutes after the first wave of people "broke the ice" and took the first steps on the dance floor, the general crowd subsided. For a time, it was just a bunch of people standing around, apparently not into whatever song was playing.

On the second level down, there were a few still dancing. Here's the funny part: for several minutes, I noted with a certain amusement, the only ones actually dancing were lesbian couples. I think there might have been one single male down there, dancing by himself. But the rest were all girls, in pairs. Must have been a half dozen couples. And they were having a goddam ball of it, while everyone else was just standing around! I mean, they were totally uninhibited, enjoying themselves, enjoying each other fun.

This just goes to support my theory: Lesbian couples are the ideal. Being a male, I hate to admit it, because where does that leave me? But the more I see, the more I believe. I think it's about time that me and one other like-minded, male person I met on netforum a couple months ago to take action: We need to found the Male Wannabe Lesbian Society of America! We need to have marches, we need to have a politicol lobby, we need to fight for our rights! What was this about again? Our rights... to do... exactly what? Oh yeah: Next time on Jerry Springer: Men who want to be women, so they can make love to women, like women. And be butch too. Oh to hell with it.

Well, the evening wore on, more music played, more people danced, but I eventually grew tired of the whole thing. It was cool for a while, but gets old.

Long story short (cause I wanna go to sleep): At 22:30, I decided I had gotten all I wanted of my five bucks worth. The music was good. If it were just about the music, I would have stayed, and put off worrying about how to get home. It just started to feel like I was in the company of a bunch of a) pretentious snobs, b) drunks, and c) perfectly alright people, who I just wasn't relating to.

I left, retrieved my book, and took the last bus home. On the bus, I read a few pages, and found solace in the words. I'm glad I bought that book.

Upon arriving at the Louisville Compound, I noted two familiar vehicles parked outside before entering the house. Sure enough, Jaeger and Scott were present. They greeted me enthusiasticly, inquired as to where I had been, and reminded me that I was missing, actually had missed, Xena. It was obvious that both had been reading my web page this last week, and wanted more information.

I declined to comment on anything. I told them if they really, really wanted to know where I had been for the evening, they could read it tomorrow. I'm certain they will. Hi guys. :)

I think they got the idea, based on my cheery demeanor, that I had achieved some sort of great success on this night. I think my cheery demeanor was part caused by the residue of the alcohol in my system, part genuine joy to come home and be pleasantly greeted by friends. I certainly hadn't been so smiley-faced a few minutes before. Maybe the passages I read from the book while on the bus were also conducive to a more peaceful soul.

Looking back on the evening, I can't say I regret a bit of it. Things didn't turn out as ideal as I might have hoped, but when do they ever? It was a learning experience. Damn though. Hanging out in there, images from early episodes of Angel really came to the forefront of my brain. I could identify. I also feel that I have something of a Holden Caulfield complex. Big surprise there.

Well, I could say more. Commentate on the events of the evening. Relate a few things that I omitted for the sake getting to bed before dawn. I could describe in more detail the other inhabitants of the dance floor. I could draw reference to an old SNL skit (Inhibited Dance Party) that I thought I had forgotten. I could talk about another, or two, of the waitresses. I could babble, I could babble. I could, I could, I could.

But I'm tired. I'm beat. I'm done.