I don't dance. Though I tried my best to shuffle along to the beat as much as I could - especially when I got dragged to the retro dancefloor in the Ministry of Sound by my friends. I mean, twirling disco balls, psychedelic motifs and the ever-present glowing pavement lights. Hello, Studio 54 I know.
And oddly enough that was the name of the club.
After a night out at 54...
As if I didn't feel unsound enough :) Fortunately most of the youthful patrons shaking their derriere on the dancefloor ( not much better than my arthritic movements ) while waving their hands up in the air didn't seem to have done the same back in the 70s. Guess even tertiary kids can still enjoy the Dancing Queen.
Especially since they entered for free. Damn.
There was one guy with the cowboy hat who might have jived with Travolta way back in his hip-shaking heyday though. Heck judging by his jiggly paunch, he might even have grooved to Elvis. But he was a helluva enthusiastic dancer though! Kudos to him I say for proving that age hasn't deterred his happy feet.
Few extreme hotties to be seen. And even then I needed several shots of vodka to make them so. Are all the cute straight guys married? A possible bias but seems like gay men have gotten a serious monopoly on buff guys in super-tight tanks.
Guess I didn't read fag though since I even had one blowsy female patron shaking her overly endowed weapons of destruction right at me. Seriously. Closest encounter with boobies ever.
Female : Dance with me now or I'll suffocate you with my heaving bosom!
Paul : Uhh.. could I finish my vodka first?
And had her black skirt risen up any higher, I might have gotten an opportunity to see her vagina dentata. No doubt she was there to hook one of the many expat guys around but had to settle for me.