When I think I’ve seen it all, something else absurd pops up in front of me and reminds me, that I truly haven’t. This past Friday was definitely one of those moments. My Friday night plans were up in the air, until someone invited me out to a party their friend was throwing at a club in DC. The last time I’ve ventured out to a club was 2 years ago when I was celebrating my 30th birthday, even then, it was more so a lounge than a huge, over crowded club. Considering that hind-sight is 20/20, I should have asked what club was the party being held at, because yes, I’m picky when it comes to the crowd I choose to socialize in, especially if it’s going to be at a club.
Of all places in DC, to end up on a Friday night, I had to end up at Zanzibar.
Now, I’m sure there are people out there who love Zanzibar, but I’m definitely not one of them. Maybe if I was the 40+ yr old, who hadn’t out grown the club environment, or the man who wore Steve Harvey zoot suits, or the man who came out wearing his Friday ‘best’ which consisted of his tight ass “Versaci” pants, with a matching “Versaci” shirt (I use quotes around ‘Versaci’ and purposefully spelled it incorrectly because god only knows if the pieces were real), or better yet, maybe if I was the midget in the micro-mini skirt, who didn’t have to drop that far down to get her eagle on, then hells yeah, Zanzibar would be the place to be.
I’m neither of those.
Typically, I don’t expect to find comedy relief if I’m trying to go out and dance and have a few drinks, but comedy relief was in full force Friday night at Zanzibar. From the midget in the micr0-mini who was getting felt up on the dance floor, to the man with his hair conked straighter than Malcolm Little before he became El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, Friday night definitely provided me with more than my fair share of laughs.
At one point, I just had to sit back and share this experience with my fellow Twitters.
Of course, the responses to the above were classic!
and last but certainly not least,
Don’t let me forget to mention how many times I was called “Baby Girl” by someone who was old enough to be my father. Seriously, I think there truly should be an age cut off limit when entering the club. If you are an official AARP card carrying member, you ass should not be at the club! I swore I saw someone’s grandmother “Popping Champagne” & “Jumping Out The Window”. Stop the madness!
Needless to say, after that Zanzibar experience, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I return to that club. As a matter of fact, I’m going back on my club hiatus, which should have never been broken in the first place.