Last week, I was discussing the show Girls with some gals from work. It’s a pretty nasty show on HBO, but I can’t look away. To me, the funniest scene of the season was when they went to a rave, all became separated, and one of the girls accidentally smoked something and ran around in her spanx after somehow losing her skirt. If you don’t watch the show you won’t have a clue what I’m talking about, but if you do watch it, I can only imagine that you’re smiling right now…it was super funny.
As we were discussing the scene, I had an instant flashback to being 21 and randomly ending up at a rave in San Diego.
For the record, I had no idea it was a rave until after I’d been…I just thought I was going dancing with a friend. It was one of the weirdest/funniest/awkward/terrifying nights of my life.
Let me set the scene for you:
I was 21, still sporting the freshman 15/20, had very little self confidence, was visiting a friend who was always WAY cooler than me, and wearing something totally appropriate for going out in Texas: an Ann Taylor lavendar, short sleeve button down top, with a flowery skirt, and brown braided sandals.
I WORE ANN FREAKING TAYLOR TO A RAVE!!!
When we arrived to the warehouse in downtown San Diego, there was a huge line out in front. Nerves in my stomach told me we weren’t somewhere I’d normally go. I looked around at the people in line and realized I stuck out like a sore thumb. My nerves grew.
Somehow, we got in. We headed for the bar where my friend and her friend, a 6’5 skinny black man named Antonio, suggested we do shots. I had a sip of one and then we headed through the masses of people for the dance floor.
And on the way, we got separated.
I was TERRIFIED.
As a reminder, these were the days before cell phones, I was in a town where I didn’t know anyone, was in a situation that was foreign to me, and I was wearing a sweet little Ann Taylor outfit. I was out of place for so many reasons.
I didn’t know what to do, so I went back to the bar. I ordered a beer and tried to keep myself looking busy.
Several minutes later, when I realized I wasn’t going to find my friend, I gave in.
I sucked up all the courage I could muster and I hit the dance floor.
In a sea of people dressed in wild/raunchy outfits, piercings in unusual places, and clearly not in pearls like me, I found a spot on the dance floor. Maybe it was the liquid courage or maybe it was the realization that I really had no other choice, I found the beat in the music and was determined to have a good time all by myself.
A couple of hours went by and my friend and I were reunited.
She’d been up on the second floor looking down trying to find me the whole time.
And when she finally spotted me (and this is where she tells the story with heaping laughter), it was because I was the only person in lavender in the middle of the dance floor, shaking it like a fool.