I thought it was a joke. I walk in, all happy (or maybe sad, I can't remember; if I could, I would be a journalist and not a blogger), ready to party, contact high from being in Mickey Avalon's esteemed presence, etc. I dive into the bar as I usually do, ready to coat my sadness with liquor, and then I stop, frozen, like those old ladies in the middle of the road right when they realize how close the grill of your late-80s Mercedes sedan is to their rusty walker.
"Trance. They are playing fucking trance," I think to myself desperately. I run to the nearest Greek Orthodox calendar to check the date (don't forget, next Tuesday is the Forefeast of the Holy Cross!) and make sure that I haven't somehow traveled back in time to 1999.
I'm ashamed of you people. How can you accumulate in public places like that, mob me like that, pay a fortune to hear trance? You wily drug addicts freak me out. Anyway, enjoy the pics. It was truly an interesting experience.
and it smelled like grandmas BO all over the place
and yeah.... i was. :)