I almost didn't go to the nightclub tonight. People are beginning to say nasty things about me. Things like: Steve is bitter, antisocial, uptight, grumpy, and judgmental. So I had to prove them wrong. So I went to this so-called mecca of young people having fun. This establishment bears the unfortunate name of Zentra and has a faux exotic theme with hookahs and buddha statues all over the place. And red lights.

I arrived at 9:45 and had 15 minutes to quaff as many free vodka drinks as possible. My friends were at a table with drinks lined up in front of them untouched. In reserve. It was a bit pathetic. After 10pm, drinks cost money. I ordered a gin & tonic and was shellshocked by the $8 price tag. Fuck a duck. I paid, tipped, and morosely wandered back to the support beam I had adopted as my leaning post. I now understood the drink stockpiling.

Disclaimer: I hate house music the most of all dance music types, and I don't dance. I received endless shit for this all night long. "Are you having fun? I know you're dancing on the inside. Isn't this song great? Shake it, Steve!" Sorry, I drink, curse, belch, and bleed. No dancing. Tough shit.

Okay, so maybe I am antisocial. Either there's something wrong with me or everybody else, and I lose that one. I care not. Aside from the occasional attractive female with big round hips, everybody looks to me like retards trying to shake out a constipation problem. Epileptics suffering asthma attacks.

I just do not belong here. People kept asking me where to find the bathrooms because apparently I look like a bouncer. I tried not to scowl, but I wasn't grinning like a leprechaun getting a blowjob from Tinkerbell like most of the chuckleheads in that joint. I was trying not to disappoint my friends so I tried to stay relaxed and calm, say nothing cruel, and even smile every once in a while. I might've succeeded.

As the night wore on and midnight passed, the doormen wildly exceeded the fire code capacity. Claustrophobics would've ruptured vessels. People were dancing on me. Elbows assaulted my ribcage. Cigarettes were extinguished on my neck. The air was so foggy that I gasped and nearly collapsed from asphyxiation.

I left as the rest of my crowd were shivering in line outside, waiting to get inside. They looked at me in wonder. "You're leaving? It's only 1:30!"

"Yes. I like air. Have fun and goodnight."
2:44 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm