Le avventure di Megan e di Grant

Oh honorable reader, oh dearest friend, oh seeker of knowledge and truth...sit down and be smitten with a tale so glorious, so horrible, so uproarious as to instantly go down in the history of histories, the annals of 50Fifty.

Grant, after a hard day at work (which lasted only 1.5 hours) called Megan who had an even harder day...at a spa having a massage and lounging in a jacuzzi. The plans for tonight? To hit the not-so-infamous Shark Club to dance the night away. After getting decked out in fashionable club-wear they drove to the blue neon signs and the large bouncer guarded doors.

Walking up to the door two guys in wife-beaters are staring at us. I dismiss this as I say "Ladies first" and let Megan go ahead of me. The bouncer says, "That was nice of you," which, at the time, meant nothing more than that which it would usually mean.

Inside I notice a sign...this is not the same club I was at the last time I was here. Tonight it's called Friction. There is different music, a different crowd, and even different decor in some places. We hit the bar, get some drinks, and head to the outside area to mingle and sip from our plastic cups.

Once outside Megan says to me, "At first I totally thought you were taking me to a gay club because of those guys standing outside in their wife-beaters." I laughed and took a sip of my drink. Then I looked around and noticed a few things: 1) There were only about 5 girls in the group of 50 or so people, and they were all, shall we say, overweight. 2) The guys were all dressed either very fashionably (more so than usual club attire) or very revealing. 3) I was getting checked out...a lot...and not by the 5 fat girls.

Megan suddenly looks shocked and says, "This is a GAY club!"

Hmm...things now make sense. The name Friction, the lack of girls, the getting checked out...yup, definitely accidentally showed up on a night when the club was having it's gay night.

As if we needed any more confirmation, as we were dancing on the main floor three guys in white boxer-briefs get up on stage and start dancing while people put dollar bills in their underwear. Then, as if straight from Cirque, a guy is swinging on a big metal hoop in the air above everyone dancing.

Megan couldn't keep it together and was laughing hard enough to need to cover her mouth while I attempted to dance in a direction where I wouldn't see any gyrating men (thereby forcing Megan to have them directly in her line of sight). I had a few stalkers who I guess thought that my dancing with Megan was me playing hard to get. I guess they thought me kissing her was more of the same.

Ok ok...I have to concede...I can sympathize with girls who say they don't like going to clubs because of how persistent and annoying guys can be.

All in all though a very interesting evening. I'm sure Megan won't simply take my club suggestions at face value anymore though. I guess a little bit of internet research would have cleared things up.