Monday, September 15, 2008

Night out on the town

I have never been to a discotheque in India and have never even wanted to. There were other pals of mine who would salivate at the prospect and beg for any opportunity to get into one of those crowded, noisy, flashily lit up places that seem to be central to most people's idea of living it up! For me, they seemed to be such a unattractive place to be: being forced to listen to the kind of music I hate while getting jostled by strangers. To top it off, going single into a club really reeks of desperation and that is one thing in life I have had no experience of. I figured that it was not my kind of game.

So when my cousin told me last Saturday that we had two options of hitting Boston's night-time circuit - A : Go bar-hopping or B: Land up in a lounge or a disc for the entire night, I instantly chose option A. But Hurricane Hanna put paid to that plan with her torrential rains through Saturday evening and we were forced to choose B if I wanted to do anything that weekend. We chose a club/lounge called "Mantra" (run by an Indian, though I saw very few inside) in downtown Boston and I made my debut in the zoo of the creatures of the night. I knew myself to be a introverted, quiet kind of guy who'd rather hang around a deserted city park and drink in a quiet little bar than head for the more 'popular' parts of town. Well... I was wrong, completely and absolutely wrong.

With the aid of a couple of pegs of rum consumed before entry, the place literally swallowed me up. The thumping music danced in circles around me, teasing me to match up to it. The strobe lights and the hallucinogenic graphics on the giant screens were just so perfect for the occasion. A bevy of bewitching beauties swaying to the music awaited wherever the eye turned, their looks and figures toned to perfection and I found myself agreeing to my cousin that the only guy who could be really happy in here would be a single guy, because he had effectively the entire menu to choose from (On paper, at least). Sure enough, the best looking girls were part of some group or the other, never for a single second unattended, and the other girls that looked to be on the hunt themselves were, at least on my first experience of the nightclub scene, were trying too hard. That needy look on a girl's face really kills off any possible sense of attraction for me, though for most it may be a big turn-on. 

A few really pretty faces would occasionally steal a seductive glance before focussing back on their group, and the locking of gazes that spoke much more than a million words could have conveyed were to be the real high points of the night. Whether these moments would progress into something more substantial by the end of the night was the whole point of the game. I finally got what was so alluring about night-life and I really took a liking to it. This trip of America is turning out to be a real eye-opener! I keep discovering unexplored portions within what was until recently my very familiar mind.


ingit said...

Aristotle goes clubbing? ;)
Quite an interesting (and enlightening) post, i must say

R I T I said...

hmmmm ... wait till Ma reads this ... ;D