Join The Club

In another attempt to hold onto my youth, I accompanied a group of friends this past weekend to hit one of New York’s trendier night clubs. While researching the venue, the ringleader, whose birthday we were celebrating (Happy Birthday, LW!), searched for a venue appropriate for our age group. That’s between dancing with glow sticks and dancing with canes and top hats. She settled on a place in the dimly lit cobblestone streets of the Meat Packing District. (For the throngs of ladies in high heels, I was expecting to see a lot more injuries than I did watching them cross those cobblestone streets.) The place was called “Cielo,” and not surprisingly, we were the very first people in line, since we would probably be the only people in there with a strict bedtime. While waiting, another group of young women sauntered up to the bouncer. As I was noticing how young they were, they too seemed to be seeking an older crowd, and asked the bouncer, “How old are the people in there? Like twelve?” That made me feel so much better, as I fumbled through my pockets looking for my arthritic medication.

Inside, the place was quite nice, with two steps leading to an in set dance floor in the center, and a 3 foot wide disco ball hanging from the ceiling. First one in, and first ones to the bar, as we plopped down $11 to $14 for various fancy drinks. We walked around leisurely, like fire inspectors, checking out the furniture and outdoor garden. Party goers filed in slowly in small teams, separated at the bouncer’s discretion. It reminded me of watching a class field trip enter pair by pair into a museum playing house music.

Over the next hour, the place filled up pretty quickly, and the temperature got warmer as the music got louder. Then as the strobes flashed faster with the beats, quickly came the signs of getting old…

• A shift of the non-dancers in the group, the ones with the bad knees, were designated to watch the bags
• The strobe lights blinded our eyes, causing much visual confusion and pain
• The music was too loud
• We held onto our chests when the bass went up to make sure our hearts were still beating to their own rhythm

We were yawning and too tired to stay past midnight

It was a fun evening, and something I haven’t done I think since I was in my twenties. I think I would probably do it again, after a good night’s sleep and maybe an afternoon nap.