It is 3:30 am as I write this. I had a most wonderful conversation today with someone I admire from afar and we talked about authenticity and speaking our. . . I don’t know, truth.
So tonight I went out clubbing with some girls. One I met the night before, the others I met tonight. I am out to experience Munich and explore all it has to offer. When I was young and traveling in 2000 I didn’t go to clubs. I didn’t go to the discotek. I was all about safety and not putting myself into dangerous situations which is kind of funny coming from the US to Europe with a lower crime rate. Oh well.
Now I am past that youthful time and yet so much is the same. I still have the practical travel clothes, I can still dance like no one is watching, and I think they were playing the same music that I grew up with. There was Justin Timberlake, Jennifer Lopez, Rhianna’s “Work, work, work, work,” Shakira, and even Brittany Spears, the rest was just other songs that sounded like those people. Usually it was something about skin, body, sweat and touching smooth places.
I was never a clubbing girl. I went out one time with girlfriends just after high school and I watched some guy rub all over my hot friend and that was the extent of my experience. Like, why bother? Why did she bother?
Most of the night I spent composing a blog about clubbing. I wonder what authentic things I would have to say about the night. Would I talk about feeling underdressed and ugly? Would I complain about not being hit on or being hit on? Did I really want a guy’s attention to validate my looks? A glance around the dance floor told me no.
I did get to hear one of my very favorite songs “Milkshakes”. That was the highlight of my night but it happened about 15 min into the night. Nothing topped it after that, that was the peak of my night. I did like standing in front of the speakers that made the air vibrate around me. It felt like I was inside the music and if I could stand just right my whole chest would vibrate. “I wonder what chakras I’m activating,” was my thought. I pretended to be all mystical while music blared around me. I missed my Shakori Fest girls and the music. At Shakori Fest I don’t know the music or the bands but the music makes me want to move. All my friends and I are a patchwork of dresses and dirty bare feet on a muddy wood dance floor under a circus tent.
In the club there were many beautiful girls in fitted dresses and high heels. The dance floor was full of smoke machines and the low lights disguised everybody’s looks. I kept wondering when the vampires would break out to feast on the mob. That’s usually what happens in these scenarios – in the movies at least. The popular item of the night was a black off -the – shoulder midriff top. I saw 3 girls wearing it. They were board thin and gorgeous. I bopped around to the music and felt out of place, at least they played the music videos on big screens and I could watch that.
It was nice being among friends and watching them dance, taking inspiration from their moves. One is an exercise dance teacher and she just moved with such ease and openness, she filled the space around her.
We ended the night by watching a fight break out. The security manhandled a guy out onto the sidewalk then the guy proceeded to run around screaming at people and more and more people followed him around yelling and holding each other back. With the the words being in another language it was sort of like watching some tv show with the mute button on. I had no idea what was really happening and I didn’t care. It was hard to tell who was trying to calm people down and who was trying to get in the fight. Eventually the guy ran off, the cops came, and as I headed home at 2:30 in the morning I saw the angry guy getting pushed into the back seat of a cop car, still yelling.
It was an adventure to get home, I had missed the last U-bahn and S-bahn and my phone was dying. I wrote down the directions to get home on a receipt I found in my bag and I started walking. According to Google it was an 11 min. drive home. Lucky for me, after about 15 min of walking I came across a bus stop with people waiting at it and I found my ride back to the stop that I know, Harras.
It is now 3:50 and I’m here contemplating what it means to be my age and shape and what it matters. What I was most happy about throughout the night was knowing that the man I love was at home and I would soon be back to him. I love that I can just go out without Jason, that we check in on each other later. That he trusts me so fully to find my way back to him. I guess that is what is different about clubbing now vs that one time I went out in New Zealand – oh, I think I went in Madrid as well. I’m already validated. Happy dancing.