Praning

The other Friday, after dinner at a Latin bistro in downtown, the mister and I, together with some of our friends went dancing at an underground pub. I like dancing, but I am most comfortable doing it in our kitchen, in the basement, or in the garage when I am alone. That was the first time I went dancing in Frederick, and the second time in America. The first time was in 2011 at the Pose Ultralounge and Nightclub at the Gaylord National Resort.

The place was small. errr. They call it "intimate." Remix music was so loud, and for me, weren't "singable" anymore. I don't know why people tried to talk to me when obviously we couldn't hear each other. I wished sign language was taught in school, because I was sure it was convenient in those moments.

But on second thought, sign language still wouldn't do because it's dark. Well, maybe unless I wore a glow in the dark fitted hand gloves.

It's not called disco these days. It's clubbing. The other Friday, I saw grinding, pumping, mouth sucking, and basically like having sex standing up with clothes on at the dance floor cramped with people. Some where by twos or in groups. There was a a couple who "danced" like dogs having sex. Despicable! There was not much dancing and singing along anymore.



People were on the dance floor with their drinks in their hands, which some were spilled on the floor, which made me more reluctant to dance.

I didn't have a drink also because I don't like drinking from an open cup in the dark. I also didn't dance in the middle of the dance floor because the floor was sticky, and I didn't want to ruin my new thrifted Bass leather shoes.



My sister in Australia was chatting with me via Viber. She kept telling me to enjoy the night. I really tried.

I was uncomfortable there. I felt so confined and couldn't breath, like sleeping under covers when you want to grasp fresh cold air to breathe. It felt tight, like when you're wearing pants that are so tight that even letting out a fart is too ambitious.

Because the place was small intimate, scary thoughts couldn't leave my mind. What if there was a fight and we're not near the exit? What if there is a fire in a dark small space full of people? What if there's a madman?

It was a big sigh of relief when we left the place at midnight. The place, I heard serves good food when it's not a dance club. I'd like to come back when it's not dark and loud.

The following morning, the deadliest mass shooting at a gay nightclub in Orlando was all over the news. I know I am anxious (read: praning in Filipino), old, and old fashioned. I can still go to disco nightclubs, but I can't see it happening in the very near future.