I did something shameful. --this wont really make sense to you unless you are familiar with Athens, Ga and the hierarchy of bars-- I went to BarCode. I guess to elaborate, I'd describe barcode as a place where you only go if you have a TERRIBLE fake i.d. or if you're trying to pick up way-too-young/way-too-drunk sorority girls. It's basically a joke. But they were having a dance party, and I wanted to go to a "top 40" kind of cheesy dance party where I could "get my dance out" as Sam and I have been saying recently.
When I handed the door guy my i.d. he looked shocked. Like maybe it was the first legit i.d. he'd gotten from a girl all week. He went to stamp my hand to signify my age. Now, you don't know this about me, but I hate being written on. So I stopped him and told him i'd rather just have my license handy. He started going on and on about how it's his job. Blah blah blah. At which point I made note of the fact that I was sure he wouldn't get into trouble for NOT stamping someone who IS old enough as opposed to... you know, stamping someone who isn't old enough.
He looked at me like I was a genius, or crazy, I'm not sure which... So I winked when I passed him and headed to where the party was before he could say anything else. I mean, hey. It's valentine's day. What's a night of dancing without winking?!
Inside I'd say that there were probably 150 people milling about, most of them dancing in sparkly, sequined numbers, so I shoved my id back in my pocket and started in on dancing. And it was awesome. Although I was probably the oldest person there by 4-5 years. Not to mention not at all sparkly or sequined.
I had a couple of dudes and one under-dressed & under-aged chick start trying to dance with me, but I was having none of it, I'd just migrate whenever they got too close to me, and after about 30 minutes, no one bothered me. It was the perfect way to spend an hour. Everyone was already all paired up and I was just surrounded by a bunch of people dancing to awesomely bad remixes and other assorted top 40 songs.
But when I got home I found a couple of things:
1) a phone number. with a note that says: "you wont dance with me, wtf" but no name
2) rolled into said number was a 20$ bill. I should hope that this poor fella didn't mean to leave me his $20... but whatever I'm obviously keeping it.
So I'm spending that 20$ on some new music to have a "get my dance out" party at my house. Or Brunch. Probably Brunch to eat away the shame of having gone to Barcode.
