Dancing with the Most Narcissistic Generation Ever
(a road trip extra)
Saturday I went up to NYC to spend the night with my friend E. We met 8 years ago doing a show in Los Angeles, and what began as dancing each night in our dressing room to Prince morphed into a great friendship with one of my favorite LA dancing buddies. She introduced me to my favorite hole in the wall in Hollywood, Goldfingers, where we would dance on the stage to fabulous 80s and 90s music, and see the occasional celebrity (Dominic Monaghan: post Hobbit, pre-Lost).
E. now lives in NYC, and I managed to finagle a way to go spend the evening (and, er... early morning hours) doing what we love most: theatre and dancing. Ahh... the bliss.
I decided to see Tony and Pulitzer Prize winning play August: Osage County (which playwright Tray Letts commented during his Tony acceptance speech was a shocking mixture of a new American play done on Broadway with THEATRE actors. Snarky but oh so true - I cheered in my living room). It had me laughing hysterically in between the tears. (Unfortunately the 2 women who won the Tonys for it were no longer with the show, although nominee Amy Morton was astonishing!). It's a beautiful play, and we enjoyed it very much. Although it was a bit of a downer at the end. "Good thing I picked a light uplifting show for girls night out, huh?" I said to E. as we left, wiping our eyes.
After a cab ride and a quick bite to eat (pizza, of course) we hit a club that E. had chosen for its 80s music and laid back atmosphere.
Alas, times have changed a bit. The DJ still played mostly 80's music, but the selection was iffy at best, and he would stop songs in the middle. He definitely needed to work on the art of the segue. And how does one dance to 80s music for over 2 hours and hear a mere 1/3 of a Prince song? sigh.
The place was PACKED full of people who were barely born in the 80s and seemed way more interested in screaming when they heard a song they liked than they were in dancing. We managed to carve out a small place on the upper level against the railing (which gave us a prop to use in dancing, a view over the rest of the club. and a little extra breathing room). We had been there for well over an hour when 2 people literally started trying to push us out of the way with their rears. Frustrated, I mustered up some semblance of politeness and asked the guy if he could dance a little further that way. He told me no, that they were having a birthday party there, (I asked if he had the space reserved, and he told me no) and asked me to "just leave." I of course told him no, and kept dancing. Then a friend of his came over and tried to talk to us, again asking us to leave. Again he told us they didn't have the place reserved. We told him we'd move if someone from the club told us they had reserved the space, otherwise, we would keep on dancing, like we had come to do. They finally gave up. This is where the subtitle of the post comes in. Later, as we walked away from the club (at about 3am - these old girls still have some life in them) E. said, "If I had a blog I would write a post about this and call it "Dancing with the Most Narcissistic Generation Ever." (E. is a manager of a college dorm, and has seen statistics claiming that this is indeed the most narcissistic generation ever. This club experience seems to back that up).
This one's for you, E.
Jerks and bad DJs aside, we did have a good time, had our pictures taken and posted on a website showcasing NYC nightclubs, and even had to fend off a few men- proving that even though were around to enjoy the 80s, drunk young men still find us attractive (or easy marks, but we'll just let that idea slide...)