"DRINK! You two deserve it!" Jenn grabbed our glasses and filled them with half a bottle's worth of rice wine. Tanya and I exchanged glances; there was no way we were getting out of this restaurant in one piece.

"Come on, Tanya still has to drive me home. Plus, we were hungry-"
"DRINK! Can't believe you ditched us! It's punishment!" Jenn drawled, giving Wanda a knowing look. Wanda glared at us in mock contempt. Tanya laughed guiltily and downed her shot. Jenn swooped down and immediately filled it with another. Wanda looked down at the shot I was clutching in my hand. The clear liquid quivered in the glass.
"How about you? DRINK! Finish it up!" She waved at the waiter. "Another bottle please?"
The waiter nodded, and said that they could only serve alcohol until 2 o’clock.
"DRINK!! We're running out of time. Hurry."
"Alright alright..." I took in the liquid, felt it burn the insides of my mouth and threaten to run down my throat. I watched as Jenn and Wanda brought over two more bottles. I scanned the table frantically, the shot of alcohol still swirling in my mouth. I grabbed a napkin and pressed it firmly to my lips, letting the napkin slowly soak up the alcohol. The stupid napkin only took up about half a shot without being conspicuous. I tossed the soggy napkin behind my bowl of salad. Thank god no one noticed. Half a shot still sat rancid on my tongue.
"We came to Annandale because you said you wanted to come! And what do you do?" Wanda demanded. Tanya giggled even harder, her face already a flushed pink.
"We were hungry! Especially since we already drank!" Tanya managed to choke out, and Jenn grabbed her glass and refilled it.
"We came all the way from Rockville. And you ditch us for HoneyPig?!"
I was out of napkins, and no way was I drinking any more. My bowl of salad looked promising. I spat the rest of the wine into the bowel and set it down. Amazingly, I still wasn't caught. Yet. The lettuce swam freely.
Jenn noticed my empty glass and filled it. I cursed silently and gave her a pained look. She ignored me and nudged my glass.
"You can't fault us for being hungry. And come on, the best Korean food in town versus some random Korean bar. Clearly, food wins," I tried to explain.
"You ditched your FRIENDS for FOOD. We were waiting for you, and you were here EATING-"
"We texted you..."
"Doesn't matter! DRINK!" Wanda picked up my shot and held it towards me. I sheepishly took the glass. Then the waiter came by and took my salad bowel. Life is not fair.
Since Wanda and Jenn were scrutinizing me intently, I sighed and obligingly downed the shot. With a triumphant look in her eyes, Jenn filled my glass again. I could feel the alcohol burn down my esophagus hit my gut with dizzying warmth, spreading through my limbs and down my spine. Already, blood was pounding in my ears, and my face was inflamed and tingly.
"And Tanya, we TOLD you, Halloween is only 21 days away! You can't afford to be eating HoneyPig!"
"I eat HoneyPig every week, it's just so good..." Tanya breathed, looking dreamy.
"What about your costume? You have 21 days to fit in your costume!"
"I can diet, haha..."
It was ridiculous; perfectly skinny girls arguing about dieting, around a table laden with deliciously marinated beef sizzling on top of a rounded-iron grill. The smoke and aroma floated in circles and into a vent. Everyone was talking and laughing and having a great time. I ate a piece of steaming beef; damn, the Koreans really got their barbecue down to a fine art. Life is good.
I could feel myself giggle uncontrollably. The waiter came by with bowels of rice, and everyone hastened to feast on the beef while it was still hot. Conversations flew by, new guests came and left, and the room was spinning beautifully. I still had this shot of rice wine I had to get rid of secretly, otherwise I'd be forced to drink it and end up tired and sick the next morning. I wondered how my liver was doing, whether I'd be getting cancer in my old age because I drank too much and stayed up too late in my youth, whether the euphoria that filled me now would leave an empty silence the next morning, whether this temporary escape from the mundane would leave me looking forward to the next weekend when I would protest the alcohol but end up taking it and letting it fill me with this artificial high that felt good but also made me think too much. If I took that last shot, I would stop thinking so much. The condensation stuck to the glass and beaded, sweating coolness. Comfortable numbness. Deftly, I picked up the glass and poured the contents in my rice. I smiled at my craftiness, and joined the conversation that had been taking place without me.

Clubs are one of the loneliest places on earth. Men and women packed in suffocating heat, gyrating to mindless vibrations, looking for something they can take home. Some look for physical gratification, others look for a validation of self worth or attractiveness. Some just want an escape from reality, or want a moment where they can just dance to flashing lights and laugh at drunk friends.

Clubs are also such strange spaces for courtship, hosting primitive and animalistic rituals for mating. It's like watching pigeons waddle in place, displaying their feathers, trying to coax another pigeon, clearly torn between hormones and annoyance, to mate.

Some men are like vultures, watching the giggling girls in their low cut shirts and hiked up skirts, waiting for one to start spilling her drink, start slurring her speech. Gliding in at the opportune moment when her friends aren't watching and lavish her with attention. It's like picking off the weak or dying. Some spend the whole night just observing, out of fear of rejection, hope for some female attention, or because they really don't know what they're doing there, only that they don't want to spend the night alone. Other men are like dogs in heat, ready to grab on to any unsuspecting thigh or behind and start humping away, their definition of dancing.

Women struggle internally between wanting male attention and not wanting to be hounded all night. They enjoy the ego-boost when different men offer to buy the girl drinks or try to dance with her. But sometimes all they want to do is just dance.

I've gone clubbing almost every other weekend for a whole year since I moved here. I always feel sorry for the people there, always wanting, waiting. Attention or physical gratification. I often say I only go so I can exercise [as I never exercise], but the truth is I go clubbing also because I like to be reminded that even if I look stodgy and boring at work, on the weekends I'm the fun-loving, crazy girl that just wants to relax. I don't think people would be able to recognize me at work.



[edit, post clubbing]

http://www.metrolyrics.com/filet-mignon-lyrics-lil-wayne.html

wtf? Does lil wayne KNOW what filet mignon is? I love how misogynistic the music they play in clubs is. I had a great time, aside from 1. Dude bragging about driving drunk to the club. 2. Another dude completely drowning himself in alcohol in hopes that one of the girls will let him stay overnight to make sure he doesn't drive [What the hell?!] 3. Getting groped 4. Having to say goodbye to a friend who's leaving DC for good.

4am is 5 hours past my bedtime. I am such a shrimp :P I don't see how people can handle and enjoy such self-destructive activities, such as staying up way too late and binge drinking.