Boo to House Music

What happens when you go with a group of guys to a club in the Meatpacking District? You don't get in. (Unless you know a promoter or pay off the bouncer.) We eventually got into a club, Cielo, where one of the guys recognized a promoter from his high school...but we still had to pay $20 to get in.

My first impression of this place was positive; it had a spacious dance floor smack dab in the middle of the room and the decor was nice. But the longer I hung around, the more schizo I became. First, I felt like I was in a hip hop music video because the walls had rows of lights that simultaneously flashed. Second, I thought I was having epileptic seizures because of the blinding strobe lights. Third, I felt like I was at a rave, sans glow sticks and strangers touching me. I found out that this place only played house music, which I HATE because I can't dance to it. The people swaying around me looked like they were on E...or maybe that's just the way they dance. I even saw a girl wearing those huge rave pants. Who let her in? Anyways, we ended up dancing and every now and then, there would be these subliminal messages coming from the monotonous beats. Global warming... Global warming... You are the future. Then I heard of list of cities/countries. Spain... Italy... Miami...What the hell was all that?

To detox our ears and brains of the horrible music, we went to a random bar that played hip hop music. We were the only ones dancing but we didn't care. We had to get the house music out of us. Then we went to Hogs and Heifers for a friend who was visiting from Australia. Of course we had to end the morning with Halal Cart! Agnes had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

It was about 5:30am when I went to bed. The sun woke me up at 7:30am and I couldn't fully go back to sleep after that. It was a beautiful day so I spent several hours at Central Park studying for my midterm. My lazy ass didn't want to walk into the heart of the park so I found the closest grassy area to sit, which was by the street that the horse carriages pass by. Every time they passed by, the wind would give me a whiff of their stanky asses. Sadly, that smell permeates most of the streets in NYC.