For some reason, I've been having a pretty intense desire to go out dancing to house or techno music. I've never been much of a raver type but I'm starting to see the light. There is something so much more liberating about the music and consequently the type of scene it evokes. You just have to move to it and for me that's alright. Movement is a beautiful thing in all of its various literal and figurative forms. Anyhow, on my 32nd birthday I wanted to be dancing as quickly and wildly as I possibly could. After asking around for some good techno recommendations, I decided upon the Havana Club. This place featured three dance rooms including techno. Eureka!
I spent all of Friday in a constant state of bliss. Every few minutes I would receive a Facebook text wishing me a happy birthday. Modern technology is awesome. After work, I collected on my Valentine's Day 60 minute massage and then floated home to prepare for dinner at Seasons 52. Ironically, I didn't actually start partying until 30 minutes after my birthday had passed. Upon arrival, we proudly stood in the general public line because 32 years of life experience has taught me that paying 40 bucks to skip a 10-15 minute line is simply ridiculous. That same wisdom has also taught my boyfriend to follow the dress code by wearing appropriate shoes. Old boy in front us had to pay $30.00 because he decided to floss in athletic gear. Ah, the sweet folly of youth.
The club was definitely bustling with energy. I shamelessly attributed this to the fact that it was my birthday. LOL. After purchasing drinks, we decided to skip the Hip Hop room. I know. Recently, I've been bashing Hip Hop. It's not because I don't like the music. I love Hip Hop! I spent all of last week listening to Joe Budden, J-Live, Common, Little Brother, Kanye West, Jay-Z and on and on and on. What I don't understand is 
happening to the party scene. It used to be about dancing, grooving, hanging out in spite of whatever was going on in your life. You wore whatever was comfortable and conducive to working up a good sweat. You did the latest move or made up new ones. Your face hurt from smiling and laughing. Your feet hurt from stomping and kicking. You partied as the DJ saved your life. These days, it's like a funky attitudinal fashion show mixed with a ground fertile for spread of a mean bacterial infection. Sure people manage to have fun but it's just not what it used to be. Maybe it's just me. On to the techno room.
happening to the party scene. It used to be about dancing, grooving, hanging out in spite of whatever was going on in your life. You wore whatever was comfortable and conducive to working up a good sweat. You did the latest move or made up new ones. Your face hurt from smiling and laughing. Your feet hurt from stomping and kicking. You partied as the DJ saved your life. These days, it's like a funky attitudinal fashion show mixed with a ground fertile for spread of a mean bacterial infection. Sure people manage to have fun but it's just not what it used to be. Maybe it's just me. On to the techno room.Lo and behold, there were available high boys and stools with no VIP reservation necessary! We camped out directly in front the speaker and moved like we were on fire for the better part of an hour and a half. I am 32 years old, dammit, but you couldn't tell me that I didn't feel as young and energetic as an adolescent drunk on Jolt cola. Thank you, Dance 101 for giving me the stamina of a tiger! Grrrr! At about 2:30, my stilettos reminded me that humans are not meant to spend extended amounts of time prancing around on their tippy toes. Before my feet started screaming I allowed them to lead me and my boyfriend out of the Havana Club and back to the car so that we could take it on home. Good times. Happy Birthday to me.
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