I figured I would write out my experiences, kinda like a journal but attempt to tell her a story rather just recalling events in a book. I think I did a horrible job because I didn’t know the direction that I wanted to write it in, but practice makes perfect right? o_O? RIGHT!?
Regardless, I hope enjoy the reading if you do read it. I tried and I will be doing better next time something I want to share get written down.
“All right, I should have no problem getting back. You sure you’re cool?” Yeah, being stuck downtown with no real direction and no clue with my destination look like is a clear sign of being all right, but I was in the general area and that was good enough.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Keep your phone close, I’ll be dropping a call around 2.”
I had been downtown before, hell I had even been lost downtown before but tonight was a completely different feeling. As if something had shifted my opinion about the area. Perhaps it was the addition of Christmas lights that illuminated the streets in a beautiful display of saint nick spirit or maybe it was just my imagination running rampant without a filter, but something was a midst and I was digging the feeling.
I had arrived thirty minutes earlier and the club which I had no idea what the name was didn’t open until nine. Crossing the street, I found the address 205 plated above two large sliding oak doors. Being the brute that I was, I thought I could just open it up but when my strength proved useless, I walked around the building from another place of entry.
And luckily that walk was only steps away as the being served two clubs, the second being called Ambience and the way the few people I heard pronounce put emphasis on the ‘once’ instead ‘ence’. It was different and I kinda like the way security guard said it. I had found a seat with the entrance hall and use my phone to occupy my time; mainly staring at the clock and becoming impatience as once again no one knew what I was supposed to be doing or where I was supposed to be going.
I recalled the conversations that I had with my brother previously. I know I wasn’t the only person who told someone about a certain type of job you were going into only to get stories and folklore about your new found profession…with some of them being true.
“All man, we gon be in the club deep with my nigga Dyron, posted in that bitch. I’m talkin about in that bitch with katanas like, we can’t get in wit guns, but these niggas got swords!?” Villan.
“I heard niggas be acting all sorts of nuts in clubs! And the bouncers be like, Nigga you got a go and be throwing people the hell out. They don’t give shit if you with yo girl, yo man, and who ever. Nigga, you can kick crews out and if they don’t, I’ve watch bouncers knock a nigga out!” Cousin.
“Shadowbar, all the young and ignant catz roam over therr. They aint got no sense either, shootin and shit at least once a week. We talkin about to the point where when its time to leave, you damn there had a police escort out, waitin on shit to pop off.” Uncle.
(They only get worst from here. But you get the idea, right?)
All I could do is grin and I can’t honestly tell if I was excited for having such a grand opportunity or nervous about walking into the role. I hadn’t gotten into a fight since high school. I had been preaching no violence cause even though I’ve slipped up here and there and I preferred not to put my hands on people. Now I have all authority to do so? (Within reason). It was new. And I was certain I could hold me own against one, but now we’re talking about all types of people who were probably bred in fighting and had no problem dishing out whenever and where ever. I had some shoes to fit in, but I was willing to accept the challenge.
People started showing shortly after; a couple, an older fellow and an entourage of women who had all showed up to celebrate someone birthday party. The couple was a pair of doctors, the male was extreme talkative, edgy like a person who couldn’t sit still and keep his mouth shut when he was younger. His companion was the opposite, quiet and self-absorbed seemingly as she couldn’t stop fixing little details in her outfit and hair. She was attractive though I doubt the nurse outfit did her any justice.
The entourage was a group of over-sized women with one exception that were looking for a good time and perhaps a good lay? The way they talked about the club would surely lead anyone in that direction. The exception was a 18 year old freshman the life clubs with very high hopes. She seemed the type who had been dreaming about going to clubs ever since she heard the stories; like it was a fairytale and she had finally became Alice who was about to be introduced to wonderland. And everyone around gave her positive reinforcement. Poor child…
A striped-shirt guy came walking down the stairs, eyed like he knew me from somewhere and I didn’t belong and left out around 9:10, ten minutes after to alleged starting time only to come back ten minutes later and inform finally that I was in the wrong building and to follow him into my work environment for the next five hours.
Being that I had never really walked into a club, Club Chrome was smaller than I had imagined. The club’s hardwood floor for dancing was a bit smaller than square of a basketball court. Lounge chairs hugged the walls of the club to sit and linger if you tired of dancing with a stripper pole in the corners for women to dance on? The upper lever was like balcony, overlooking the dance floor with lounge chairs. I assumed that was to get away from the action for a bit a peace. There was a bar on each floor underneath each other and the bathroom hung towards the right wall from the entrance. I thought it was small, but I guess it would be suitable.
I spot my recruiter sitting on one the lounge chairs with a larger fellow and approach him slowly, trying to figure out a way to break the ice without sound weird. It had been nearly five years since I talk to him like a friend and it was the occasional crossing every now and then.
“What up, Dyron?”
“Nothing much Eric, long time no see. It’s been a long time since I used to call you magic patch,” I spoke smoothly, as if the anxiety had left the moment I opened my mouth. Casual conversations followed. Catching up with a short mixture of old tales of what we were like in the olds days. I was introduced to his friend Money and for odd as that was; I didn’t dare start the debate.
Turns out security had more functions than just standing about the place, especially when there no one to watch and look out for. We loaded in the ice and refreshments of the nights; giant bottles of liquor and alcohol, several large bags of ice, soda and juices for the mixtures and water for the non-drinkers. They were preparing for huge crowd but I still couldn’t see the possibilities.
I spent the rest of my free time after setting up the gates outside and getting an idea of the area I would be looking over glued to the television, teetering between the college football game with teams I hadn’t heard of and a video on the second level of previous parties. I gravitated more to the video on the second floor. The video was a showcase of highlights, women shaking their asses, grinding on men, on the floor and on the pole, enjoying themselves. Men throwing up signs with their hands, speaking in their native language about things I understood nothing about, and making poses in front of the camera. Now, I general idea of what is going to be like…but I was still a bit nervous about it.
A few people had entered during our wait for the club to open. A very interesting short woman entered in wearing skin-tight blue leggings that hugged her lower half as if it was to suffocate her bounced around the upper level. She was a milk chocolate in a way that made your mouth water as eyes caught her skin. She sported a short combed down cut that showcase her angled features and a pair of black rimmed glasses to highlight her eyes. They added to her attraction level. Her shirt was short cut and had she had breast, her shirt would have done no justice in covering them but because she lacked in that area, it suited her and she covered up with a leather jacket to protected herself from the chill. The woman had a figure even though she pudgy around the mid-section but all of that was excused to the fleshy backside she had and was showcasing her in leggings.
Another lady was wearing white cut short dress that exposed her over-abundance of cleavage with a pair of leggings. She was a bartender. The shot girls of the evening were both caramel, light skinned beauties that were hired to grab men’s attention. One wore lingerie leggings, laced with flower petals with a tight fitting black dress while the other a high cut shirt with her physique exposed rounded with a pair of leggings that highlighted her legs. If these were only the employees, I had a general idea of what to expect out of the patrons.
The disk-jockey arrived thirty minutes before show time, immediately getting to the music to set the tone for the club. Although it wasn’t my taste of music, I appreciate something other than the silence and the occasional meet and greet because I was the new guy. And that’s when it happened.
Chrome was a night club that allowed women 18 years or older in free until twelve, and men at 21 in at the cost of ten dollars. I was station on the second floor, looking down the dance floor. I was to watch the bathroom, the empty bar on that level and to keep the isles clear. Groups of women entered in first, immediately heading to the bathroom like something had changed in their appearance from them standing outside to touch themselves up before going to the floor. Women were actually more opened to dancing, heading out to the floor and stripper pole while the guys that followed tend to stay with their clique, scoping the field for potentials and ladies of interest.
Of all the women on the floor, if had I had the opportunity to switch the roles and be one of the fellas here for recreational and personal objectives (and had been single or just open to the idea of dancing with others) I had the few that tested my charm against. One of those was a weaved heavy individual. I wasn’t too fond of weave out the bat, but I do understand why women wear it thanks to women explaining it to me. She was fairly pretty, wearing glasses similar to the short haired one. She a tight grey and black zebra print dress in a pair of short hells. Oddly enough, for a petite girl that probably weighed no more than 115, she knew how to move her hips in ways that captivated me sadly.
But it seemed dancing in general captivated me. There were women of all types dancing now as the first hour passed. Some of them uses the stage as a muse to perform different techniques that I thought you would only see in dance of rap video. Some of them took to the floor (where space was provided) while others gravitated to the stripper pole. And oddly just when I thought that was all they were going to do, the dj instinctively put on a ballroom son so that all of them could come together and hustle to. I had to admit, it look like fun looking from the outside, despite the music at times. (which was geared towards women shaking the ass, not that I had a problem with that at this point.)
And when I gave good unbiased thought to it, the music wasn’t the bad. (Or maybe I was focusing more on the beats from the loud speakers than anything else.) Stupid Hoe by Nicki Minaj wasn’t bad. Big Sean songs weren’t bad either. I wish I knew the names of the others, but I don’t. But when certain songs came on, it made the girls go crazy and the danced accordingly. And by this point, the guys start to mingle in the groups of women and get their partners, making the dance floor look like a cluster of people just standing around with groups dancing in various spots.
And I didn’t forget my job, it just that was entertainment I had my leisure when I scoped floors for trouble, smokers, and trouble makers. The dj’s friend had managed to get a female to go into the boy’s bathroom to smoke and rules were, there no smoking on the second floor because it was all carpet so having to tail them in there after they thought they got away with it, I broke it up. A group of fellas started to roll a blunt of weed on the second floor counter that had to be dispersed because of the mess they were making. And I watched some events took place down stairs, but for the most part it was peaceful and just easy-going. I kinda preferred it like that.
I mean, people came here to mingle, connect with people, find sex partners, and ultimately get laid. Why come here and cause trouble with your goal is the opposite sex? (Excluding the excessively drunk people. They can’t help it.)
Around twelve, about an hour into the party, the city-known celebrity came to rock the house. Too bad I didn’t know who he was. Dark-skinned rapper I wanted to assumed with head full of cornrows and radiant chain around his neck. The masses welcomed him with screams and some of the less dressed women caught his attention and was able to join him on stage, shaking their asses in front of the males as if they were in a rap video. But I will argue in their defense, they did look good doing it. (Question: If I don’t want to be called out of your name, why give people the justification to do so? If you like the sort of stuff, why not just accept the title and move on?) It was almost shocking that some of the ones I had judge to be classy had fought to get on stage while the others that appeared to be those types stayed put in the crowds.
Another city-known artist hit the stage around one. A female rapper that spoke something had got caught in her throat, so perfectly that the result was an annoying squeak or screech that no one could understand., at least on microphone anyway. She appeared to be mixed breed, eyes slanted like she oriental or native descent. Fair skinned (It was a trend, I swear! Light skinned women get all of the attention!) and somewhat thick, but not pretty with all the make-up she was wearing.
Some people in make-up look like straight up clowns. Others, knew the formula to look attractive. A blend of natural beauty and effects of product that complimented if not enhanced those features to make them stunning. >_>… man….
“Hey, what’s your name?” A woman asked, breaking my five minute survey into the crowd, looking for something odd. I turned and to my surprise, she was oddly close to my ear. I didn’t quite blame her. The two celebrities seemed to be in a heat battle with each other the speakers that was playing the music to be heard. Obviously, the speakers won and left them to speaking directly into the microphone which made them sounding muffled and unheard until the music paused.
“Dyron,” I spoke rather loud, not trying to duplicate the same effect she had on me. She was taller than me, in heels which was breathtakingly awkward. A tall people looking up another tall person isn’t the best feeling in the world and because she inch above me, he opened dress gave a good view of the breast that seemed to be attempting to break free of the prison known as her bra.
Her name was Alexis and she was a frequent club goer, who seemed interested because she hadn’t seen me before. The conversation didn’t really last that long. Once I explained I was a bouncer, she returned to her friend and venture back into the depths of the crowd. Another lady, standing at an astonishing 5’1 started dancing directly next to me. Like uncomfortably close. She was Latino with a pair of spades underneath her tank top, leaving nothing to the imagination as she bounced about it. Ignoring for about three minutes shot down that attempt.
Two other women attempted to hit on me during work hours. I wasn’t really in the most presentable state to being with. I had uncombed nappy hair that had been matted down. My facial hair was all over the place and I don’t think of myself as attractive anyway. But never the less, it happened and it was sad because I was so focus on working that I really didn’t pay them no mind. I had a girlfriend and honestly did not feel comfortable to just mingle.
Not that I am a person bound by zones of comfort, but it just wasn’t my crowd. I did not have the demeanor of a street lord or the lingo of a person who was from the streets. Hell one of the girls openly admitted that I did not sound like I was around here when I spoke, stating “You all proper and shit.” That helped. But she did say it was a different style that she favored.
Nevertheless, the night was coming to a close. I must have check the time at least ten times within the last few hours and the music helped with passing of the time. The club lights dimmed and normal lighting returned. I have received the directive to push everyone towards the door. Two o’clock had struck and it was time to shut it down. It was amazing how people acted when the party was over. Reluctant to leave, cussing up storms, and acting like pansies was normal amongst the crowd but they crumbled to a deep force and mean expression.
Once everyone was gone, I got sit on the stage and watch as the cleaners began to picking up after people that showed no respect for the club they got to party in. Bear and bottles were everywhere. Liquids were all over the floor. Buds of cigarettes and smoking caps littered the floor. I would have been upset. Before I knew, the owner was placing fifty bucks in my hand. Fifty dollars for just standing around doing nothing was easy. I could use to this.