Of Mind and Trinity
by Christela
The club is starting to get unbearably
hot. A myriad of people swarm in coming from the streets and neighboring bars. A woman in stilletos and a leather body suit laughs hysterically as she clings to a demigod in one hand and a glass of kamikaze in the other. It's unbelievable how redundant this feels.
It's equally unbelievable how jaded that sounds. The stage is ever ready and the bulbs die. The effervescent crowd surrounding the harassed lady bartender is rendered silent by the plucking of strings. My voice starts to weave into the familiar riffs losing control through a series of sung profanities. The urgency of the heavy chorus is stretched to the utmost in minutes.
The climax bursts and for a second there's sinful silence before it gets drowned in shouts and the coming together of hands.
The glow of lights seem endless. One can stand there amidst a sea of sweaty bodies and be transfixed by the patterns alone. The stilletos bite and the leather feels erotic and irritating at the same time. My companion offers a drink and a joke. Something about rats and New York. You can tell from his face, he's dying to be funny so you have to give in and laugh.
It can't be that bad, right? The bartender shrugs in sympathy and moves on to the next customer. The lights dim and there's a slight murmur as people start to protest. Suddenly, the stage is alive with industrial rock and metal sounds. The vocalist is surprisingly wild and soon evervody starts headbanging with her. My date looks around and it's apparent he's not a heavy metal fan. Too bad for him, the Romeo beside me has already volunteered to drive me home. This and many nights to come.
It's only midnight here at the club but on this counter leans a gorgeous man who's obviously had one drink too many. He orders his third Black Russian without hesitation even after having been told to take it easy because he holds the car keys among his group.
It's never easy to turn them down but that's what security is for. Steve, the other bartender, hands him a glassful of ice water and tells him to get lost. He doesn't for he now seems to have shifted his attention on the woman next to him. She tries to laugh heartily at her date's feeble attempt at a joke and manages not to look bored at least. Soon, there's darkness and the conversations stop at the buzz of electric guitars. As usual, the rock band has the crowd at their feet. The vocalist moves all over the stage as she sings, purring like a cat.
After their fifth song, the lovely drunk guy slips away with the leather suited babe and leaves me at the mercy of her pathetic date.
Back to