About that time my buddy came up with a great way to describe the event. He said it was like waiting for a hit of bunk acid to hit. You didn’t know it was bunk, but after hours the wait was telling enough. Now this doesn’t mean it was sucking completely, it was just kind of a let down after hours of driving and waiting and anticipation for my first taste of Man art. I’m not saying I was disappointed, I just think if I had dropped some acid it would have been more awe inspiring. So there we stood, sipping, in my case sucking, on our drinks until the belly dancer girls came out.
Now let me first say that these women, attractive tatted snake moving women, were quite attractive. And then they started to dance and their looks, as much as they could, faded a bit and their dancing was the focal point. They went for at least fifteen minutes or more. And we’re not talking your grandma’s belly dancing. The music they choose started off as the semi-normal belly dancing Indian vibe, but from there they went to a techno wonderland of undulation and floor crawling. I was amazed as was everyone else in the place. After that I needed a smoke so I retired outside on the smallish patio that they had there.
Outside was a collection of normal park bench type sitting along a small wall, with a couch on the opposite wall. The couch had a pair of mannequin legs sticking up from it, the feet aimed towards the sky, and there was a dude with an amazingly colored shirt snapping photos of it. So I choked down a cig and went back inside.
The music was a deafening thumping beat that didn’t stop for hours, and melded into and out of itself. You couldn’t stop your movement. You would jiggle and bounce, even at the bar, and the drinks flowed.
