If Hating This is Lame, I Don’t Wanna Be Hip

I cancelled my Friday night date mostly because of my indifference towards her but the whiny client and his imagined emergency provided a good excuse that had the added convenience of being true. After mollifying the client, my evening was free. So when my very dear friend, the Only Slightly Sleazy Lobbyist (OSSL,) invited me to join him and a few of his friends at a downtown bar/nightclub, I agreed despite knowing better.

From prior visits I, I knew better than to give Café Lousy Mojito even small amounts of my cash or time but I boredom got the better of me. I arrived in the tween part of the evening – too late for happy hour, too early for the real club kids – hoping to find the sweet spot in the night. I gave my ID to the surly stereotype at the door – black leather jacket, three day stubble, bad attitude – and moved through the more crowded than expected night spot looking for OSSL and crew.

Like most Latin themed places downtown, CLM, had attractive but bad bartenders, too loud music which necessitated near yelling to communicate, and a dance floor populated in equal measure with really good salsa/merengue dancers and gringos just drunk enough to think they have rhythm. Having checked the main floor and the tiny upper level alcove without finding them, I descended the dark staircase to the basement bar and found OSSL easily. An outsize voice, always holding court near a bar, wildly punctuating his point with one hand, and a pint in the other – yeah that’s him.

I was introduced to the crew of five stylish, early to mid 30s gents, and one lady who is “I could boil water by looking at a glass” hot. I am certain that none of them remembered my name because it was too loud for them to have heard it and too dark for my face to have made an impression. I made a point of chatting with each person individually. I sipped a beer that took too long to get from a bartender who couldn’t be bothered to say thank you when I left her an industry sized tip.

I had one more beer because having just one is rude and milled about a bit more, yelled into other peoples ear chatted a bit more. After an hour (or what felt like it,) I grabbed my coat to leave and said my good bye’s. Just as I turned to face the stairs, the Boil Water Hot woman landed on the final step.

“You’re not being lame are you? You’re not leaving, right?” She mock-pouted.

“Yes, I am lame; yes I am leaving. This place just isn’t my scene, but it was very nice meeting you.”

“What’s wrong with Café Lousy Mojito?”

We had been standing at a distance that would have suggested we were intimates if we were on an afternoon sidewalk but simply meant that we were talking in a place like this. I stepped back, met her gaze, and in a normal tone of voice, replied “Nothing is wrong with this place. I just don’t like yelling, and don’t like dancing when there’s no room.”

She leaned back towards me and asked me to repeat myself.

“Exactly” I said returning to audible volume.

She smiled, I winked, we parted ways.

By the by, since it’s Wednesday that means I did the DC Blogs Round-Up.  Go over a take a peak at the posts in the DC Blogosphere that caught my eye.  By the By, this post from Sara who writes If I had to Pick Five would have been on that list but it aint exactly a DC Blog.

One more thing, since I am now a Contributing Editor at DC Blogs, I feel compelled to mention that the December DC Blogger Meet-Up is this evening at RFD at 7pm.  Bloggers, readers, lurkers are all invited – I can’t promise that I will be there (maybe that will induce more of you to attend) but I hope you will.