Saturday night, Justin and I went out clubbing/bar hopping in Pioneer Square. This is something I never would have done of my own motivation, as I've always been of the somewhat elitist opinion that clubs and bars are only really fun for singles or people under the influence of recreational drugs. However, I had a great time *even though* I'm decidedly not single and was there with my fiance who decidedly can't dance. (Disclaimer: he can't dance 'in that way.' He's a pretty skilled swing dancer.) I don't know if I can discount the second part of my preconceptions because it took a vodka & red bull to get my energy high enough to participate and a few tequila shots to stop the volume level from bothering me and keep me from worrying about how stupid I looked.
We were these because my editor at the Seattle Weekly asked if I wanted to go report on the scene. You'll have to wait for the story to be published to find out why. I was pretty worried that we wouldn't have a good time. I've been clubbing in Amsterdam, Tokyo, and Portland and have had really mixed experiences. Some of those times have been emotionally loaded, so I was willing to give this a chance. (And the cash incentive helped.)
( This is a long story... ) My one major trepidation was that Occidental Park itself is the city's last outdoor refuge for the homeless. It's also unfortunately populated by drug pushers and prostitutes. After the galleries and clubs close, you don't want to stick around, as illustrated in this Real Change article.Pioneer Square around Occidental Park is a notoriously rowdy and "dangerous" area. Which, of course, means that it's absolutely fine unless you're really in the wrong place at the wrong time. Justin's stepdad was shocked that I might consider going by myself and told me to leave if anything felt wrong. I guess a big Seahawks football player was beaten up last year. As I have neither testosterone nor an incentive to start fights, this didn't concern me.
When we got there and started looking for parking along 1st street, Justin just shrugged as he said "Oh, look, a really skinny guy getting into a fight with a fat guy." "Great," I thought, "We're fucked." But that was the only fight we saw all evening and it doesn't really count because we weren't even out of the car.
First, we walked to the Last Supper Club. It was still pretty early, and there wasn't any kind of line to get in. The club itself wasn't bad-- two floors with different types of music, a lounge area upstairs, and two bars. When we got there hardly anyone was dancing. By the time we left, things were picking up a bit, but I wasn't having any fun and the Hello Kitty/ Dolphin baloons in the seating area were freaking me out. I think it was someone's birthday. And there was a wedding reception downstairs that we felt weird about intruding upon. Yeah, RECEPTION.
Next, we went back to the car so I could drop off my coat. You never need anything more substantial than a tank top in clubs since plenty of heat is provided by people's stanky, sweaty torsos. The best part was, now that I was coatless, we proceeded to stand for 20 minutes in line for the next club in the cold.
Trinity was, admittedly, a lot of fun. Great variety, great atmosphere, great bars. I'd definitely consider going back. The cover was fucking steep though. Fifteen a person for a single venue. YUCK. While waiting in line we saw an above average assortment of trollops and club whores and unusual entourage of about fifty asians entered the club together. According to one of the girls, it was a birthday party. Man, I wish I had a 50-asian entourage! There were also at least 3 brides-to-be shakin' their groove thang on Trinity's dance floors. And in the bathroom? A woman vending everything you could possibly need, from breath mints to hair clips. I should have bought some mouthwash... I bet it had more alcohol and cost less than the tequila shots.
I'd gone into Trinity kind of ranty from a combination of the cold, the sluts, and the dude I'd had to shoot down outside of the bar next door. When we came out I was in much higher spirits. Walking past the Merchants' Cafe where said birthday boy had tried to pick me up, I realized that the doorman was actually the building manager of my old work's shitty ex-office building. Justin and I talked with him for a while, got some practically free drinks from exploiting our connection, and checked out.
It was already 1AM and we'd gotten to Pioneer Square around 10:30. As we were about to head around the corner to peek into a few smaller bars, a few Seattle Police officers walked up to the bar. I was worried that some shit was about to go down, but it turned out they were just on a meet-and-greet with the new precinct captain. The cool part was that a long-time neighborhood resident and boutique owner was escorting them around and familiarizing them with everyone. It was a comforting bit of community service.
Our next stop was J&M (which fittingly says "J&K Cafe" on it), an utterly forgettable but historic club. I didn't have any drinks there, but I didn't really need to at that point. Everyone at the club was obviously pretty far gone and the only takeaway I really got was some bathroom hilarity: Drunk, unabashed ladies asking me and each other if they looked OK. One mother of a 3-year-old in a tube-top asked if she was stupid for wearing it. Another girl asked me, "Do I look old?" Tired, yes. Old, no. Anyway, it was 1:30 and no one cared!
We hobbled down to Cowgirl's Inc., where the cowgirls were dancing on the bar. I got a drink which I drank and then promptly forgot about. The photobooth was sadly out of order and the mechanical bull shut down when there were still three people in front of me in line. DAMN IT! I tipped one of the cowgirls that Justin liked because he was too cowardly to do it himself, then told another one she was hot. Did I mention I'd had a bit to drink?
I'd hoped we could stick our heads into the New Orleans jazz bar, but it was past closing time when we wandered back. Trinity, however, stops serving drinks at 2am but stays open until 3. We danced a little more, then overshot our walk back to the car by two blocks. Even though it was past 2am, people still crowded the front of clubs and mobbed the hotdog stands dotting the blocks. Several street musicians played random musical ensembles. I tried to holler along to a Beatles song and failed.
We twice passed a pimped-out car with windows down blaring Usher's "Yeah." The driver, a well-dressed black man with bling, was standing on the sidewalk with his cell out, making short calls. On the way to the car, I waved, "Nice car!" We must have looked so stupidly white bobbing our heads to Usher.
For some reason he motioned us over and complimented me, then for ten minutes made sure Justin knew to worship me as the Queen of My Domain and to always make wise stock picks in things that everyone buys, like toilet paper and toothpaste. I'm sure what he was saying made perfect sense. He was well-spoken and (I think) sober but completely surreal. Afterwards, my hands smelled good from shaking his. We got in the car and drove home. It was almost 3AM.
A Memorandum: This is my 201st post in this blog, which I began a little over a year ago on October 5, 2005. In that time I've moved once, gone from unemployed to employed to unemployed again, made friends, lost friends, gotten engaged, and made major changes in balancing my physical and psychological well-being. Change in my life is seldom gradual, and it has come this time, as usual, in rapid succession. I've accepted a job offer in my neighborhood... I start a new job and a new year next Monday, October 16th, on my 24th birthday. Check back tomorrow for more details and the serendipity that led up to this great change. There are good things in the changes to come!
Posted on October 11, 2006 @ 2:35 PM | 1 comments
We were these because my editor at the Seattle Weekly asked if I wanted to go report on the scene. You'll have to wait for the story to be published to find out why. I was pretty worried that we wouldn't have a good time. I've been clubbing in Amsterdam, Tokyo, and Portland and have had really mixed experiences. Some of those times have been emotionally loaded, so I was willing to give this a chance. (And the cash incentive helped.)
( This is a long story... ) My one major trepidation was that Occidental Park itself is the city's last outdoor refuge for the homeless. It's also unfortunately populated by drug pushers and prostitutes. After the galleries and clubs close, you don't want to stick around, as illustrated in this Real Change article.Pioneer Square around Occidental Park is a notoriously rowdy and "dangerous" area. Which, of course, means that it's absolutely fine unless you're really in the wrong place at the wrong time. Justin's stepdad was shocked that I might consider going by myself and told me to leave if anything felt wrong. I guess a big Seahawks football player was beaten up last year. As I have neither testosterone nor an incentive to start fights, this didn't concern me.
When we got there and started looking for parking along 1st street, Justin just shrugged as he said "Oh, look, a really skinny guy getting into a fight with a fat guy." "Great," I thought, "We're fucked." But that was the only fight we saw all evening and it doesn't really count because we weren't even out of the car.
First, we walked to the Last Supper Club. It was still pretty early, and there wasn't any kind of line to get in. The club itself wasn't bad-- two floors with different types of music, a lounge area upstairs, and two bars. When we got there hardly anyone was dancing. By the time we left, things were picking up a bit, but I wasn't having any fun and the Hello Kitty/ Dolphin baloons in the seating area were freaking me out. I think it was someone's birthday. And there was a wedding reception downstairs that we felt weird about intruding upon. Yeah, RECEPTION.
Next, we went back to the car so I could drop off my coat. You never need anything more substantial than a tank top in clubs since plenty of heat is provided by people's stanky, sweaty torsos. The best part was, now that I was coatless, we proceeded to stand for 20 minutes in line for the next club in the cold.
Trinity was, admittedly, a lot of fun. Great variety, great atmosphere, great bars. I'd definitely consider going back. The cover was fucking steep though. Fifteen a person for a single venue. YUCK. While waiting in line we saw an above average assortment of trollops and club whores and unusual entourage of about fifty asians entered the club together. According to one of the girls, it was a birthday party. Man, I wish I had a 50-asian entourage! There were also at least 3 brides-to-be shakin' their groove thang on Trinity's dance floors. And in the bathroom? A woman vending everything you could possibly need, from breath mints to hair clips. I should have bought some mouthwash... I bet it had more alcohol and cost less than the tequila shots.
I'd gone into Trinity kind of ranty from a combination of the cold, the sluts, and the dude I'd had to shoot down outside of the bar next door. When we came out I was in much higher spirits. Walking past the Merchants' Cafe where said birthday boy had tried to pick me up, I realized that the doorman was actually the building manager of my old work's shitty ex-office building. Justin and I talked with him for a while, got some practically free drinks from exploiting our connection, and checked out.
It was already 1AM and we'd gotten to Pioneer Square around 10:30. As we were about to head around the corner to peek into a few smaller bars, a few Seattle Police officers walked up to the bar. I was worried that some shit was about to go down, but it turned out they were just on a meet-and-greet with the new precinct captain. The cool part was that a long-time neighborhood resident and boutique owner was escorting them around and familiarizing them with everyone. It was a comforting bit of community service.
Our next stop was J&M (which fittingly says "J&K Cafe" on it), an utterly forgettable but historic club. I didn't have any drinks there, but I didn't really need to at that point. Everyone at the club was obviously pretty far gone and the only takeaway I really got was some bathroom hilarity: Drunk, unabashed ladies asking me and each other if they looked OK. One mother of a 3-year-old in a tube-top asked if she was stupid for wearing it. Another girl asked me, "Do I look old?" Tired, yes. Old, no. Anyway, it was 1:30 and no one cared!
We hobbled down to Cowgirl's Inc., where the cowgirls were dancing on the bar. I got a drink which I drank and then promptly forgot about. The photobooth was sadly out of order and the mechanical bull shut down when there were still three people in front of me in line. DAMN IT! I tipped one of the cowgirls that Justin liked because he was too cowardly to do it himself, then told another one she was hot. Did I mention I'd had a bit to drink?
I'd hoped we could stick our heads into the New Orleans jazz bar, but it was past closing time when we wandered back. Trinity, however, stops serving drinks at 2am but stays open until 3. We danced a little more, then overshot our walk back to the car by two blocks. Even though it was past 2am, people still crowded the front of clubs and mobbed the hotdog stands dotting the blocks. Several street musicians played random musical ensembles. I tried to holler along to a Beatles song and failed.
We twice passed a pimped-out car with windows down blaring Usher's "Yeah." The driver, a well-dressed black man with bling, was standing on the sidewalk with his cell out, making short calls. On the way to the car, I waved, "Nice car!" We must have looked so stupidly white bobbing our heads to Usher.
For some reason he motioned us over and complimented me, then for ten minutes made sure Justin knew to worship me as the Queen of My Domain and to always make wise stock picks in things that everyone buys, like toilet paper and toothpaste. I'm sure what he was saying made perfect sense. He was well-spoken and (I think) sober but completely surreal. Afterwards, my hands smelled good from shaking his. We got in the car and drove home. It was almost 3AM.
A Memorandum: This is my 201st post in this blog, which I began a little over a year ago on October 5, 2005. In that time I've moved once, gone from unemployed to employed to unemployed again, made friends, lost friends, gotten engaged, and made major changes in balancing my physical and psychological well-being. Change in my life is seldom gradual, and it has come this time, as usual, in rapid succession. I've accepted a job offer in my neighborhood... I start a new job and a new year next Monday, October 16th, on my 24th birthday. Check back tomorrow for more details and the serendipity that led up to this great change. There are good things in the changes to come!
Posted on October 11, 2006 @ 2:35 PM | 1 comments
Comments:
Sounds like a wild time but too bad about the mechanical bull!
Happy birthday and congrats on the new job! You'll have to fill me in on that.
By 
Lazy Lightning, at
5:41 PM, October 11, 2006
