After some needed siestas followed by watching the 2 Saturday NFL playoff games – both stinkers – we decided it was time to go check out the local club scene. Known as boliches, they can range from tiny, personal clubs to massive venues. We had met a local who recommended one but when we got there they wanted a fairly steep cover. Since we were just checking things out and because the door guy was being a prick, we opted to go to the club next door called Tocka. Alas, it wasn’t open yet but they said it would be any minute.
The corner where the club was located had quite the scene going on so we waited until it opened. Finally, the door man signaled it was OK to go in and away we went. It was a small club with terrible acoustics and a deafeningly loud sound system. Since it had just opened (this was 2AM BTW), there were only a few people there, clustered together in small cliques. It felt like we had wandered into a random house party where everyone knew each other and we were the party crashers.
Still, we were so fascinated by the scene unfolding we wanted to see where it things would go. There was a small bar with a pretty large list of cocktails and spirits, and we agreed that alcohol was much needed. Chris got the vodka naranja, which he said tasted like Tang, and I got a mojito. It was pretty much the worst mojito I had ever imbibed but it was loaded with rum so I slowly choked it down. By now the club had started to fill up a little but we were still essentially being ignored. We found a free couch to chill out and that gave us a pretty nice view of the action.
At around 3AM, the club finally started to spring to real life. Chris had his second drink and I finally finished my mojito, ordering a vodka “Tang” to see what it was like. It was strong and did indeed taste like Tang but it would do for now. By this time, both of us were feeling socially lubricated so we started to try to engage with people. Chris dared me to go talk to these 2 women at the bar, which I eventually accepted. However, the blaring music and their general disinterest in chatting anyone else (many other had tried to penetrate their fortress so to speak) made this a fool’s errand.
Chris, however, had more success, chatting up a girl with Skrillex hair who spoke pretty decent English. In the meantime, people finally started to realize that damn, that hombre es muy alto! and came up to me to chat. The vibe in the room was in pure party mode and both Chris and I started to really unwind. It was time for a 3rd drink, so I chose the Tocka – which was a monstrous combination of Malibu rum, vodka, gin, orange juice and triple sec. That led to having picture taken such as this:
The oh so chic Daffy Duck hat was part of the trinkets being passed out to make it more of a party – masks, hats, streamers, leis, you name it. The clock struck 5AM and the club was now kicking into overdrive. We had a blast chatting with various friends of Skrillex girl as well as other randoms, such as a guy who is studying at Texas Tech and a dude almost as tall as me, acknowledging our tall guy status with knowing nods across the room.
The rays of the rising sun started piercing the shaded club but yet the party kept going. I danced a bit with the chica in the picture above before being told her boyfriend was right behind me. Fortunately, he was cool with it and I apologized by bequeathing my oh so styling Donald Duck cap (plastic BTW) to him. It was now past 6AM and although the party was clearly going to go on for awhile, we decided to leave.
Having given up my normal rule of going to sleep before sunset, I had revised it slightly to be asleep before 7AM. In this case, I got in just under the wire.