Saturday, May 1, 2010


I'm a club kid. Many moons ago, before I was of the legal drinking age of 21, I recall devising new and extravagant ways to slip unnoticed past the doormen of my favorite nightclubs. Little did I know back then that I had wandered off the map. There below the flashing lasers, beneath the artificial fog, the strobes and the disco balls, I found Shangri-La.

For the record, I have never been much of a drinker. And I dont really like drugs like X and whatnot. I drink socially but my friends make fun of me for drinking chocolate milk and diet soda all the time. I do live for the extreme however. And that has led to some pretty epic binges of wanton debauchery. I think. I'm not sure. I do remember some of it though.

I suppose the draw for me to the nightclub scene had something to do with science. Mathematically speaking, when you add music to women to alcohol...

Lets do the math real quick:

Music + Women + Alcohol = Me having a good time.

When I turned 21 I had all the potential of wreaking havoc on the world but absolutely no real skills to do so. Enter Heather. Heather was the buxom bombshell of a blonde girl who just happened to take pity on poor me. She took me under those buxom wings and veritably dragged me from social scene to social scene. She was like my hot club mama.

Heather showed me around in that fantastic new dreamworld like some kind of hedonistic tour guide of the Nightside. She was constantly sizing me up, shredding me down and perfecting me. If I happened to be awkwardly alone at the bar, Heather would appear out of nowhere whisking me off to some fruitful opportunity. She introduced me, looked out for me and watched me transform until she felt that I might just be good enough even for her. And then she moved.

God bless her wherever she is.

I've spent a lot of time in the Nightside. It became such a part of my life that I have owned five bar/restaurants because of it and helped develop half a dozen others. Being a genuine club kid is like being bitten by a vampire. It gets in your blood and before long you're watching the sun rise as you go to sleep.

Today, I still love the driving beats and rhythms of techno, trance, industrial and every other kind of Ibiza grown dance music. It always makes me feel young and full of life. Those clubs become something akin to temples where we sojourn with the angels and the devils of our natural descent.

Life for me would have been substantially different had I stayed home at night, mowed my lawn the next day and driven nails in my white picket fence. Too late though. I had heard the call. And as much as I worship the sun, mother night insisted on my attentions.

We are perilously close to that great divide when we embrace something with so many tasty rewards and seething dangers. And walking that fine line, one hand holding onto the red rope, we feel in those moments what so often evades us in the drudgery of our daylight jobs and responsibilities...



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