Psychology of the Dance Floor
After the play last night, a couple of us went out for beers in the Old Port. Richard's friend was nearby and we headed over to meet him and some folks at a "pub."
As it turns out, we were all gathered by this cat who had promised all of us a chill night out at a bar with possibly a guitar player. Turns out it was a dance club with a $7 dollar cover, shitty music, shittier beer($5 dollar 6 oz Labatt drafts?! Are you kidding me?), and all the grinding college students those things bring. Plus, said cat bailed about 5 minutes after Seb and Caterine got there, and Richard, Marie, and I never even saw him.
So, there we all sat in the corner, being the old folks I remember at the club in my day...bitter and surrounded by a growing pile of plastic beer cups. Two for one speicals tend to lead people towards double fisting. But in the immortal words of Gloria Estefan, "the rhythym (or all the double fisting) is gonna get you" and we found ourselves unable to beat 'em, thus joinin' 'em in some good old fashioned table dancing. This was of course the only option since there was no dance floor, yet an absurd amount of picnic tables filled with jiggling co-eds.
It was then that I witnessed a new dynamic. There was of course girl-on-girl dancing the last time I went to a club, but this time it was a little different. Three girls were rubbing their asses on each other in order to escape the two dudes re-enacting club scenes from A Night at the Roxbury, that is, sandwiching a chick and then high-fiving. The girls weren't totally freaked out, but not interested for sure. I wonder if girl-on-girl grinding is in some ways the new circle of girls dancing...
This is research I have no intention of following up on. Clubs with barmaids in leiderhosen are not for me.
As it turns out, we were all gathered by this cat who had promised all of us a chill night out at a bar with possibly a guitar player. Turns out it was a dance club with a $7 dollar cover, shitty music, shittier beer($5 dollar 6 oz Labatt drafts?! Are you kidding me?), and all the grinding college students those things bring. Plus, said cat bailed about 5 minutes after Seb and Caterine got there, and Richard, Marie, and I never even saw him.
So, there we all sat in the corner, being the old folks I remember at the club in my day...bitter and surrounded by a growing pile of plastic beer cups. Two for one speicals tend to lead people towards double fisting. But in the immortal words of Gloria Estefan, "the rhythym (or all the double fisting) is gonna get you" and we found ourselves unable to beat 'em, thus joinin' 'em in some good old fashioned table dancing. This was of course the only option since there was no dance floor, yet an absurd amount of picnic tables filled with jiggling co-eds.
It was then that I witnessed a new dynamic. There was of course girl-on-girl dancing the last time I went to a club, but this time it was a little different. Three girls were rubbing their asses on each other in order to escape the two dudes re-enacting club scenes from A Night at the Roxbury, that is, sandwiching a chick and then high-fiving. The girls weren't totally freaked out, but not interested for sure. I wonder if girl-on-girl grinding is in some ways the new circle of girls dancing...
This is research I have no intention of following up on. Clubs with barmaids in leiderhosen are not for me.
posted by CJ at 10:40 AM
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