Dancing queen

Ahh it was fun getting out last night, for a "party". It was actually this kind of V.I.P thing that my friends Julio and Lar were invited to, at a club downtown on 10th Ave . To tell you the truth , it's been years since I hit the clubs, (I mean: the serious urban ones) especially in NYC, where it's pretty clear that you need to BE a hardcore club-kid to be able to attend. I used to stumble upon those crazy dancing places when I was younger and single, but I actually haven't intentionally gone to one forever. So we had to go through a few screening stages by a few bouncers, (but we were "allowed through" due to our close connections to the party organizer...) and after a short (industrial, loft-like) elevator ride,(oooh!) we finally got in to a large, dark space which had a bar, dance floor, famous D.J, segregated mattress'ed niches all around the corners, and lots, I mean LOTS of club kids dancing (or not) and cheering for the famous D.J. (can you please explain to me WHY this guy is so famous? I can do the same tricks on my GarageBand program on my little MAC!). If you are "lucky" to get your own mattress corner, you must be very special; (as we were,woohoo). A waitress arrives with a huge tray on which there's a wide selection of drinks (Paris Hilton probably gets a similar service!). Then you choose the bev (or bevS) of your dreams, (we went for a bottle of champagne to start with). Then you stretch out on your mattress and feel the unbelievable loudness of the beat raising the hair on your butt. (no, even more: massaging your intestines...) It's kinda fun if you can bear the decibels and the dancing with hundreds of sweaty clubbies around you.
I managed to do so for a little while, but that was enough for the next few years. Back to the (adult) opera world.