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July 17, 2005

TOW Club!

I was tired. Really tired. My recent nap schedule had been completely interrupted, and I was wiped. Still, it was Saturday night and there was nothing we had to be up for in the morning until a meeting at 11. So when I overheard a couple folks talking about going to check out the TOW Club, I inquired within. The TOW (Top of the World) club is the military’s dance club and bar, and how could I possibly leave Thule without at least checking it out? I figured there would probably be other opportunitites, but you never know. I figured I’d probably stay for about half an hour, just long enough to see it but not really get into it since I was so tired. Silly to even go, really, but at least my curiosity would be satisfied.

I headed over with Darren and Patrick and Jolene. To get into the TOW Club you have to be a member, which the man at the counter explained costs $5 for a night or $4 for a month. Yeah. No, that wasn’t a typo. So we joined for a month. Besides, hopefully we’d be back. So I am now (still, as of the time of this writing) a legitimate, card-carrying member of Thule’s TOW Club. Sweet.

The bar was what I expected. It stank of smoke and was thick with men. It was still looking like I would only be there half an hour. I wasn’t sure that I even wanted a drink. But then I found the dance floor. In another room, with lots of cocktail tables and another bar and a DJ booth framed by fake torches consisting of light and a fan aimed up at flame-shaped strips of fabric. The only problem was, no one was dancing.

Apparently it was still a little on the early side for the TOW Club crowd. I didn’t know if I would make it. But how could I leave without busting a move? Surely you see the dilemma. So I had a drink. And Quintin came. And then Erik came. We were increasing our numbers. And then, about ten minutes later, Erik left. Too bad for him, because things finally got started soon after. Jolene and Darren got up to dance, motioning for me to follow, which I did—just long enough for them to get to the dance floor thinking I was following. They danced. I just wasn’t feeling it anymore—my groove had passed. But it was fun to watch them. Then, something happened. I don’t know what, exactly. Darren and I were on the dance floor being total goofballs. Which is pretty much my favorite style of dance. Then, the DJ put on the cha-cha. A called-out dance that everyone in the club got up for, simpler than the electric slide but no less silly. And we were no less silly. I got some help from the guy beside me, apparently a pro. The cha-cha. Heard it? Danced it? If not, you should. We were pretty excited about it. So then we were all busting a move, and sometime around 1:30 we motivated to leave. But then Cynthia came. We motivated to stay (it didn’t take much). I mean, how could we leave Cynthia? So Darren left and the rest of us went in for another drink, and more dancing, and eventually left. I had definitely stayed more than half an hour. Whew.

Sunday was, of course, a day of recovery. I woke up for a meeting at 11 and went back to sleep after the meeting without indulging in brunch. I set my alarm for it, but ignored my alarm until 3. I like to be well rested.

Posted by beth at July 17, 2005 10:04 PM