No Parking on the Dancefloor

I've actively resisted dancing and learning how to do it for 29 years and about 9 months. This weekend, I decided to get over my big white self and just try it already.

Me and two old college friends went to Georgetown's Modern this weekend and I gave it (ahem) the old college try. The bar itself is a sort of 60's-retro vision of the future with a sunken, hexagonal bar and one of those plastic bubble-chair dealies that hangs from the ceiling. The music was a pretty predictable blend of old-school and contemporary hip-hop, but it got the asses moving.

While I didn't cure my three-decade-long bout with whitieisitis, I had a pretty good time thanks to my patient friends. They didn't seem to mind at all that I was a big oaf scaring potential suitors away with his arrhythmic lumbering -- and that's the sign of good friends.

As I was making my way through the crowd to leave the dance floor, two women blocked the exit. Don't get me wrong -- it's not that they wanted to stop me from leaving. They were way too enmeshed rhythmically smearing their bits together to care who wanted to go where at all. I just sort of stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out if I should push around them or leave a tip, or what, when this guy poked me in the ribs. HARD.

Here's the conversation, in interview form:

Him: Them hoes, man...

Me: What?

Him: You got tell them hoes...

Me: Tell them what?

Him: Those bitches been knockin' into me all night, yo, and that shit is bullshit. I mean, I appreciate what they doin' and all that...

Here, he paused and looked me right in the eye, swaying gently against what must have been a turbulent concrete floor.

Him: ... I APPRE-CI-ATE it and shit. But I'm gonna punch them bitches in they face if they don't quit bumping me.

Me: I see. Isn't that a little much?

Him: Fuck you. I don't let a man touch me but once, know what I'm saying, and these bitched been bumping me like at least four times.

Me: Yeah, that's real shame.

Him: So I'mma punch them bitches right in they face, and you should tell 'em. You touch them hoes on the shoulder and tell 'em this motherfucker right here is gonna ball his fist up if they don't cool out one time.

Me: ...

Then the song ended, and he sat down. Once again, I refer you to the title of this blog.

Here's a few songs I wish they'd played at the club:

These two are from a compilation entitled "The Rough Guide to Brazilian Hip-Hop."

Onde É Que Tu Tá by Stereo Maracanã
Roda Rodete Rodiano [Zambo Mix] by Bid/Chico Science

This one's from "The Rough Guide to African Rap."
Eye Mo de Anaa by Reggie Rockstone

This mashup was harvested from the wilds of the Internet:
Satisfaction Vs. Up In Da Club by Benny Benassi/50 Cent

posted by Jeff Simmermon @ 9:16 PM