last weekend, we went clubbing at 1223 in lieu of my lady’s birthday.  though i may neither be a professional venue critic nor a frequent club-goer these days, the dc club was pretty nifty actually.  the party atmosphere encompassed a decent dancefloor with much more of a young professional composition, kinda reminded me of sucka free’s velvet lounge or any of those club/bars sfdrinkclub peepz go to.  with my weekly clubbing days over, the outrageous and crazy circumstances that i’ve experienced at parties have become but mere memories to my reminiscing, and the carefree late weekend mornings in bed have turned into fresh jumpstarts of running errands.

a couple years back, my roommate’s friends and i went to ruby skye after his lady got free passes to the club.  the quasi-auditorium-turned nightclub slowly drew party seekers that evening while all of us eventually got in with a tinge of buzz already ringing in our heads.  gc brought a good amount of alkie on his ride so we ended up chugging the bad boys with great fervor.  and the usual happenings in a club scene: party, dance, walk around, talk, avoid maniacs, mack around, get into ghetto-ass brawls, and so on and so forth. 

a few hours later, i took a breather from dancing near the bar while this bulky latino bouncer introduced me to this girl who was with him.  i reciprocated the acquaintance and after a few casual one-liners, the girl eventually literally forced me into buying her one of those expensive cocktails.  sadly, it wasn’t one of those smooth talking moves wherein some girls asked strangers to buy them drinks — and then pull a disappearing or dissing act in the end.  sensing a snow job coming its way, i apparently declined and she went back to the bouncer, who seemed to be her friend, and the bouncer coerced me into the same buying-a-stranger-a-drink ordeal.  i ended up arguing with both of them and to make the long story short, informed the manager about the con game that trick and the bouncer were pulling off against me.  fast-reel motion: the other bouncers didn’t find the con duo, manager extended his apology, offered future passes, and i left with the same circle whom i came with.  i didn’t get a chance to visit the club again, and i hope those cheap hustler wannabes got their fair share of karma.

before getting into 1223, i gulped down the gatorade bottle filled with red wine inside my ride.  didn’t finish the entire contents as i felt another tinge of buzz running down my spine.  and out to the cold downtown streets to the club.

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One Comment on “”

  1. Barbs says:

    yah–12 is aiiite….compared to the d.c. alternatives…


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