July 26th - Queens Restaurant and Night Club

I didn't go out Saturday night. I went out Sunday morning. It seems like it would be the kind of thing I'm used to what with having lived in two 24 hour cities prior to my arrival in Atlanta but NO! Following a very pleasant Saturday, I came home at about 9:00pm, went to bed and was jarred awake at 1:30am to go out to a spot by the name of Queens Restaurant and Night Club all the way the hell out in Norcross. We ventured out of the house at about 3:00am afraid that the club may have already been shut down and raided by police. My God. Nevertheless, we arrived at about half past and people were still streaming into the entrance which is crazy. The club officially opens at 9:00pm. Folks don't start showing up until about 2:00am. To those who are unaware of such a phenomenon, it is commonly referred to as Colored People's Time.. which is starting to make more and more sense to yours truly since we didn't invent this 24 hour madness and the concept of time is pretty much a seriously anal retentive human construct...

This was my first taste of an authentically African clubbing experience. I'd been to Jamaican spots before in New Orleans and Los Angeles but never African. It was cool. Really cool. Not pretentious at all. Just a gathering to dance, sweat, and get down to music with layered drum beats and choruses rather unintelligible to the English-speaking ear. When you gather a whole continent of people and descendants of the African Diaspora to dance, you really get a great cross section of languages and attire. Dating a Nigerian made it much easier to identify the various nations represented. I spotted folks from Ethiopia, Cameroon, Nigeria, South Africa, as well as a few Congolese, Jamaicans, Ivorians and on and on and on. Many spoke French and various types of Patwa in addition to the adopted language of English. Those who had been colonized by the English wore suits, dresses and very upscale attire. Those who were colonized by the French tended to wear tighter pants and white belts for some reason.

Personally, I'm sure I could have passed for an immigrant but I've never felt so American. There may have been other non-immigrants there but I couldn't be sure. Having posted this blog, I hope that more natural born African-Americans would be curious about visiting a predominantly African club but who knows. It's amazing the discord and the stereotypes that exist between us even though any non-black person would look at us and just see a bunch of darkies. Maybe this isn't the platform to start discussing Pan-Africanism but dammit, to all African-Americans reading this, hit me up if you want to visit Queens. To all Africans reading this, invite an African-American friend and let's start building bridges here. We have much to learn from each other and much to share with the rest of America.

The DJ was rather terrible but I guess it is a hard job to try to appeal to so many varying musical tastes. The turntables produced a mutiny of trainwrecks forcing those on the dance floor to stop between songs to readjust their rhythm. We heard sounds from the continent as well as Caribbean, Latin and a few popular American songs like Boom Boom Pow...which caused most of the people to leave the dance floor. I can't remember the last time I heard a slow song played at a club but love music was mixed into the rotation to accommodate the various couples. Pretty sweet. When a Congolese tribal song came on, many of the folks there got really happy and formed a circle. What was so pleasing about watching was that it was the men who were dominating the dance floor instead of the women. OutPast30 Lady absolutely loves a dancing man and it is such a relief to finally love someone who enjoys and possesses the talent. I think what tickled me most was the huge disco ball and the smoke. I had an awesome time and managed to keep up. I realized I'm used to moving my feet and stepping to music but this particular club required copious amounts of hip movement in a sort of squatting position with feet planted firmly. I'm going to practice in the mirror and watch a little more YouTube before I go again.

We left the club just before sunrise listening to Bob Marley and singing at the top of our lungs. This was probably a tactic to stay awake come to think of it. And as the sun rose, there was a blood red hue in the sky that chased away the darkness of the night. I looked at my foreign dance partner and felt comfortably familiar.

July 18th - Professional Relaxation: Dangerous Liaisons @ Trois

Last Saturday, Sweets and I got all dolled up in sexy, sophisticated finery to attend Professional Relaxation: Dangerous Liaison at Trois. This party is held every third Saturday of the month at a different location. Let me just tell you that there was hardly any "professional" jumping off. I was not relaxed. Many of the attendees did indeed look dangerous so there was no real interest in forming any liaisons with them. I know that sounds kind of harsh because I'm typically very positive about my nightlife experiences but I really could have had a coke.

The party was happening between 10pm and 3:00am. Following our long day at the High Museum of Art and a friend's family barbecue, we decided to arrive fashionably late. We got there about 1:30am. We noticed our fellow party goers. A vast majority of the ladies were decked out in cute little dresses with high heels. Butts were being hugged. Cleavage was being revealed. Fine. The men, however, left much to be desired and I believe that was the fault of the invitation. The dress code was rather ambiguous. Could someone tell me what the term "cosmopolitan" means to a man? In the mind of a few of these men, it meant a suit... which is what my sweetheart looked so devastatingly delicious wearing. But for many others...too many others, it meant jeans and a button-down hanging out of the pants or jeans and a polo shirt that could have doubled as a tent, or jeans and a t-shirt, or jeans and a wife-beater which we later found ripped and laying on the floor.

This party was supposed to attract the professional, childless late twenty-somethings and the early to mid thirty-somethings with professional careers and disposable income. I expected to hear some 90's hip-hop and upbeat neo-soul blasting. I expected to see three levels of people dancing with the appropriate amount of space between themselves and the next couple on the floor. I expected the cocktails to be scrumptious and the crowd to be accommodating. What I got instead was 21 and up, general public who pronounced "trois" like "troyce." What I heard was Them Rich Kids' My Partna Dem and Young Dro's Take Off, which is something to which my 20 year old nephew listens. What I saw was people shouldering their way through a chaotic dance floor full of folks chatting (see video below). What I received was a sad excuse for a vodka martini served in a champagne glass. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

The promoters decided to turn on the lights on the third floor at 2:15am to coerce people to go down to the lower floors. After the initial pushing and shoving down the stairs, we followed and decided to just go ahead and leave. Luckily, we'd only paid $10 a piece to get in instead of $20. In lieu of moving out of the way of those who were trying to join the second and first floors, a crowd of drunken fools intent on securing their allotted amount of ass for the night decided to congregate at the bottom of the stairs and block traffic. I tapped on this one guy's shoulder and said excuse me three times before I had to push his ass out of the way. Then he had the audacity to get mad. I looked at him like I was going to cut him. I don't like having to do that because I am not beyond cutting anybody and I will cut somebody.

I had hoped that this party would be something I could recommend to other professionals with discriminating taste. Alas, no. That party was wik, wik wak and that's a shame because I was looking really good and feeling pretty swell.

July 15th - Ozlo @ Vortex Bar and Grill

This past Wednesday, I was supposed to go to this 30+ ATL event but it was all the way the hell out in Lawrenceville, which is an hour away from where I sleep. I had every intention of going but I made the mistake of stopping at Ikea first. After seeing this woman wearing the most ridiculous pair of pants ever and still being rather new to these here parts, I decided it was a bad idea to travel that far after 9:00pm. I didn't want to waste the night so I headed on over to Little 5 Points grooving to Maxwell and Vikter Duplaix .

I have been threatening to go to Vortex Bar and Grill for the longest and since I was flying solo, I just went ahead and made it happen. I walked through the skull's head and was delighted at the sight of tater tots on a few of the diners' platers. I love tater tots. Yum. I found a suitable seat, ordered a Rum Runner and a plain burger with tots and couldn't believe what I was hearing. In the corner, situated next to the fire exit, was a guy strumming his guitar and singing what sounded like the intro to LL Cool J's Mama Said Knock You Out. It was. I laughed. That song was followed by J Kwon's Tipsy, DJ Khaled's I'm So Hood (video below), Sir Mix-A-Lot's Baby Got Back complete with the spoken intro, an original ode to marijuana and Ginuwine's Pony.

The guy's name was Ozlo and I was so thoroughly entertained by his musical stylings that I bought him a shot of Jameson's. Turns out that Ozlo was an employee of Vortex and plays at the bar every Wednesday. Evidently, he travels all over Atlanta and delights barhoppers with his hip hop covers at several different venues. And this is yet another reason why I love this country. We create the best music in the world because of the intermingling and influences of so many different cultures. Music appreciation and interpretation transcends our apparent differences which is why there are such genres of music as Blues Rock and Gangster Grass. Anyway, please enjoy Ozlo's video below.

(Ozlo, dude, you killed it. I'm going to come see you again soon!)