Why didn’t anybody tell me that I’m so white?!

Last night I went to Graham Central Station with friends and had a delightful time. The place is huge! The largest room played mostly country music and featured pool tables, a woman working the bottles bar wearing chaps but no pants a la Christina Aguilera, a mechanical bull, and two large disco balls shaped like saddles. Disco saddles, they’re called. One joke for the evening was that to get onto the dance floor you had to be wearing tight enough jeans with a large enough cowboy hat and/or belt, and it would be like at an amusement park with the measuring stick they make little kids stand next to in order to get on the ride: “belt buckle must this tall to enter”. I don’t think I have ever been to a club with that many middle-aged people, or where cowboy hats are not only allowed but seemingly encouraged. I’m going to take my mother when she visits in a month because she has always said she likes to go country western dancing, and this place seemed like it would have enough people even at 7 p.m. (we arrived at 8:30 p.m.) so she can get in a couple hours’ worth of dancing, if she stays up at least a little past her usual bedtime of 8 o’clock.

Some of the pictures taken in the mostly-dark club worked better than others, depending how much of the harsh flash was reflected off my pale, pale skin. How come nobody told me that I’m so white??  It looks like I wasn’t even there in the first picture and somebody just photoshopped me in.

so white   amy sal danceamy & simon
all four of us amy sean 1st picture    

There was a karaoke room where I saw the same three men sing several different songs throughout the night, only one of whom was any good. One guy was especially terrible, apparently choosing songs he had never heard before, because he didn’t know any of the words and wasn’t so good at reading them from the screen, either, but didn’t temper his volume or enthusiasm accordingly. When he started his awful rendition of some metal song with no melody to speak of we left karaoke and headed to the ‘70s/‘80s room. We also spent significant time in the hip-hop room. I got up in one of the cages to dance for two songs until my quads were burning from dropping it like it’s hot and dropping it until it touches the ground, as the songs instructed. I’m actually a little sore today from all the dancing.

One woman in particular was quite the exhibitionist with her dancing. She and her various partners would simulate acrobatic sex acts, mostly in rhythm with the music. At one point she put her hands on the ground in front of her with her legs more than shoulder-width apart, grinding her hindquarters into the man’s crotch while he gripped her hips and pumped away. During another song a different guy was doing what I knew in elementary school as an innocent maneuver called the “crab-walk”: crouching on his feet, leaning back to rest his hands on the ground to form a table shape. The girl straddled him, over his crotch region of course, and then she gyrated against him amazingly quickly while he thrust as well. The athleticism of maintaining these positions astounded me and the other onlookers.  The woman next to me saw them and immediately tapped her friend on the shoulder to turn around, saying, “You gotta see this!” After a bit of this activity the man moved himself farther down (crab-walking!) so that she was standing over his face rather than his pelvis and pantomimed giving her oral sex for the rest of the song. Just now I got in his table-like position to figure out how I would describe it, and my muscles were shaking after holding it for just a few seconds. How he maintained it for so long, while thrusting no less, or how she was able to keep herself up with her legs so far apart, I don’t know. I am going to include diagrams I made for your viewing pleasure.

 dance 1      

dance 2                    dance 3

 

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October 21, 2006. Pictures, Words.

One Comment

  1. ZoeJane replied:

    Nice pictures!!! The ones of real people too.

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