palpable atmosphere

I can feel the thumping bass beating through my body. My eyes are wide, trying to take in every detail. The lights flicker, and above the crushing crowd the air is thick with fake smoke and the rising body heat. The bodies move in a hypnotic rhythm to the deafening beat, mouths open and eyes closed, singing through lazy grins with ecstatic abandon. I dance my way through, smiling at the people I pass, avoiding the ones who look as though they may pass out. I am greeted with happy faces, compliments and the occasional abuse from angry drunk boys. The smell of alcohol is overpowering, pouring from the hundreds of bodies packed into this club. It has dampened my senses, but I love the blanket it uses.

The song changes, and now the bass is deeper, slower, the voice that fills our ears much smoother, the back up singers suggestively breathy. And like a switch has been flipped, you see the dancing change. The girls go lower, the guys go slower, and the smiles dim into sexy smirks, all hips and subtle lip biting. The endorphins in this room are palpable, the connections concreting, rides home and a place to stay organized, during this one song. Someone should get the DJ a drink.

The song changes again, and it is alt, not for everyone. Many of the freshly formed couples leave the dance floor in search of a dark corner, the others meander in search of a drink or a friend, and the floor is left to the girls in flats and the guys in Vans. I stay and sway to the music. The singers voice is plaintive, the instruments unusual, acoustic, and loud. The surviving dancers smile at one another knowingly, enjoying the like-minded company. Our dancing style is different again. Arms are down, mellow, the movement is in the shoulders and the knees, almost drum and bass style. As the song tapers to a finish people will impulsively brave the gap, the no mans land, and speak to someone, complimenting their unusual taste and underground music knowledge.

Back at the bar there are friends doing shots, and bartenders acting unimpressed. I stay on the dance floor and dance, singing and laughing with the girls who rush back in to dance, shrieking ‘This is my song!!!


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