out

On Saturday night, I went out. Not out to a twenty-something dinner party or out to a showing of Dreamgirls at the local cineplex, but out to an actual club where people dance and drink. This may not seem like a big deal if you knew me circa 2002, but since I've been in law school, I've never gone out with my friends in LA, not even for the post-finals "everybody-who's-anybody-goes" celebrations. So yes, it's such a big deal that I'll say it again: I went out.

Despite being a momentous event personally, the night itself was refreshingly chill. My friends and I went to the Echo, an LA club whose basement-like interior was only slightly upgraded by a few strategically-placed strands of multicolor Christmas lights. Behind the bar were unadorned shelves of liquor, which were served by bartenders wearing the same attire as their patrons -- t-shirts, athletic jackets and hoodies, jeans, and sneakers with the occasional high heel. The understated environment kept the focus on the music, a great dance-able mix of underground hip-hop and neo-soul, topped by the completely out-of-place theme song from Greatest American Hero ("Believe it or not, I'm walkin' on air...").

Going out reminded me how much I love dancing. When I'm in Chicago, we usually end up at a lounge or bar where I sit while everyone else drinks, and when I was in San Francisco, we usually went to the all-Asian meat markets where the music is usually just truncated versions of hip-pop songs. Even in my early clubbing days, my dancing was more about meeting people and making impressions rather than pure love for dancing. On Saturday night, however, it was really just about me. I wasn't looking for a man or a one-night-stand, so I wasn't out to impress anyone, as evidenced by my lack of make-up and earrings, my ponytail, and my un-sexy robot t-shirt. I just wanted to dance -- and dance I did for three straight hours. Of course, I spent one of those hours swaying and pushing my heavy eyelids open and wondering how I would possibly drive 25 miles back to my house (I can now sympathize with Flo for all those times she bailed early to go back to Northbrook!). But I did get my second wind 2/3s into the night and managed to stay up until 2am, just shy of Eddy's old goal of 2:30am. I paid for it the next day when I had to be back in LA 8:30am for a all-day production day for law review, but the aches and slowed motor skills were well worth it.