Even though I am young and livin' in NYC, I really don't go to the clubs. I mean, yeah when I was 18 and first moved here, of course the first thing I did was rush down to Chinatown and get a fake ID so I could hit the clubs. ha! Here is how that worked out:
So my friend and I went to Chinatown because we had heard through the grapevine that this shady Kodak center there sells IDs. So we went down, thinking we'd be set for the next 3 years of our lives. WRONG. We get there, and the man hands us a little paper sheet to fill out: name, address, birthday, SSC number...and we thought "awesome! we can just fill in bullshit info and bam! new identity." So I put my name down as "Lisa Dolson" (which I didn't think was thaaatttt far of a stretch since my mom's maiden name is Dolson and well..I've always liked the name Lisa so..) Yeah. Lisa Dolson, born on November 2nd 1987 (being 22 just seemed way more legit than 21, right?) and I used my best friend from home's address. Flawless! My friend put her name down at "Roxanne" 'cause well...I guess she just liked that name. We got our pictures taken and then he made them all official, putting the bar code on the back- since clubs scan IDs. Oh yeah, and I was from Ohio and she was from like, New Hampshire. (what's funny about groups of underage people with IDs is that no one is from the same state. I mean, sure that could be possible..but it's highly unlikely that all these strangers just came together like that) so anyway- we pay our $83 and get ready for our first night out on the town. HA! So we get all dressed up in what we thought was really hip 21-year old outfits (my look: a tank top with a black cardigan, bell bottoms, and kitten heels...yikes) and we go to the club near where we lived. I hand my card over to the bouncer- fiddling around in my purse- (because hey, I'm 22 and do this kind of thing all the time) but he just looks at me and LAUGHS. He practically chucks it at me and says "get the hell outta line, haha." He didn't even take my ID because it was so laughably fake! greeeattttt. Ok, ok, we thought- that's just one club, let's try the next one. This time, the bouncer didn't even laugh. He just looked at us with tired eyes and sighed"you know I could take this right?" That was almost worse than being thrown out of line. Despite being turned down at pretty much every single bar/club we tried, we started to walk home until I saw a cool looking club bustling with sexy people. I looked at my friend and gave her a little pep talk "we might as well try this one. C'mon we really have nothing to lose. The worst thing that could happen is that he laughs in our face..which has happened a million times tonight already." Encouraged or tired of hearing me talk, my friend agrees to try this place. We walk up and the bouncer says "ID" and I was about to take out good ol' Lisa Dolson, but then I thought "no. clearly, Lisa sucks and doesn't work anywhere. Let me try..my student ID- which neither confirms no denies my age". Handing my student ID over to him, he looks at it and says (duh) "there's no birthday." But then I say "well this is my graduation year" pointing to the year the ID was issued. He hesitates but then stamps my hand and we're in!! Victory at last. Perseverance is key. Try Try again. All these cliches..finally make sense!
Now that was from years and years ago. Today, I am an older, wiser, more savvy club goer...not that I even go to clubs much anymore...or ever. But what is actually funny about that is that I *did* go the club about a week ago. A nice one too. But honestly, I didn't even know how to get ready for the club anymore! A lot of smoky eye? Black tight clothes? Super high heels? uh..sureee. it's pathetic though. Getting ready and hittin' the clubs should be second nature to me by now, but nope. stillllll a process. But that's ok. Fine. whatever. I got ready. looked appropriate for a club I guess, and met my friends there. When we walked in, I was like WHOA. what is this? Since I was very sober and aware- I saw the club for what it really is...a big dark room with a group of people gyrating in the middle to loud music under hazy lights and clusters of scantily clad girls teetering in heels, downing vodka cranberries, looking around for boys, and texting ex-boyfriends. Whoa. but hey, whatever. a club is a club. You can't stand around and talk to your girlfriends about how lame it is because you could do that at home. So it's best to just dance. Which is what we did and it was fun.
But I still can't say "I was at the club" with a straight face. haha, I really can't! Someone had texted me while I was there and I was like "oh no, I'm still at the club...wait, wtf? who says that!?!" haha. I'm giggling now.
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