myriad of secret thoughts

Saturday night clubhopping. I mean literally.
We started from Centro, moved to Embassy after making a pitstop at Banana Café, and finished off at Club Monaco.
Only because my sophisticated friends managed to get freepasses to all 3 clubs. Only because it was a girls night out.
A month ago I wouldn’t have imagined myself clubhopping. But there you go, life is strange.
All places are identical, really. They may boast different atmospeheres, different music, different dj’s, but when you’re in a club, you’re in a club. You’re in a place that’s dark with blinking laser lights that allow you to see in blinks, with cigarette smoke densely formulating in the atmosphere. With music that thumps and sends vibrations to your chest until you can no longer distinguish your heart beat and the beat of the music. With people, moving and doing their thing in their respective narrow spaces in the crowd, some oblivious to all except the music, some rather awkward and self-consciously. The dancing, the drinking, the release from inhibition. The occasional guy who gives you 'the look' and starts dancing his way towards you, moving along to your rhythm and finally leaning over to shout a pick-up line in your ear.

Left the club at 3, slept late into the morning. Washed out, unsuccessfully, the smell of smoke out of my hair. Sat in the morning sunlight eating peanut butter toast, listening to the brazillian jazz sounds of Eliane Elias.
I’d trade all the freepasses in the world for a moment like this.