Day 2 (August 9th)
To be honest, much of day 2 is lost for good. It seems my memory just isn't there. I remember drinking straight rum to pep up in the morning and get the horrible taste out of my mouth. I figured since I had undressed myself and was clean the minor incontinence of a broken tooth was almost an acceptable side effect as when I drink to oblivion I usually regain conscious with my belt and one shoe off feeling decidedly un-rested. As is I felt more or less good, certainly well rested and, as the rum quickly metabolized as sugar, I knocked on “Mike†& “Nancy's door to see what was going on. I think we went to the beach but the constant trickle of booze down my through prohibits me from remembering details other than agreeing to meet up around midnight to go to space that night. Being a semi-pro drunk (I played rugby once upon a time) I knew that a nap would be in order to fool my body into thinking that it had not gotten drunk and sobered up so I go to the little diner on the corner up the street from Jet where the street turns left and some how convince them to pour ‘mucho quanto coffee' (did I mention just how bad my Spanish is?) into a large cup. It was bad but I slammed it and rode the wave of sleepy warmth and boozy bliss to bed. My alarm woke me up feeling absolutely f'n great! Caffeine in your system as you nap does wonders.
Being clear headed, sober, and back again on the high of being at peace, we head to space for Carl Cox. A quick trip to the grocery store found my pocket full of ‘eggs' of a different color (less jitters he promised) and we walked down to Space stopped at an ATM only to find that my card had been turned off. (guess they felt my spending was excessive). O well, I had about 100 Euros left and decided that I would be off the booze tonight in favor of the delicious ‘eggs' that I was determined to handle better.
We got there early again (before midnight from the time stamp of my blurry photos) but that was fine. We sat at the bar in the entrance (remember I had never been to Space before) and enjoyed some conversation and people watching. I talked to a few groups of girls but pulling one from a flock early as a single guy is no small feat and my damned phone was still not working so I only got the thrill of chatting up international hotties and the cross cultural annoyance of them expecting me to buy them drinks. Now don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly willing to buy a drink if I'm going to the bar and we have established a bit of a friendship but it's never going to be my first move and if a girl actually asks, I figure she's just a bitch of a gold digger anyway and it would be more honest to just buy a real whore… (a professional would at least leave in et morning). So I go back to M&N and seeing my disappointment they make an informed decision to pop round 1 with me. As the music plays and the drug comes on stage in my brain, we dance and enjoy the minor show of the dancers and stilt wearing clowns. The opening act was good, got the small but passionate crowd going and it really felt like a neat little bar scene. I will confess I thought the place was stupid small in comparison to Privilege and, as it got more crowded, I mentioned to M&N that I thought the place would be bigger. They laughed and just told me to wait.
Not too much longer and I was pleasantly surprised to ride the living tide of people in what laterally felt like being jettisoned into ‘space'. The place felt huge as all the people who had been packed in the entrance spread out and disappeared for sight. The ambient lighting was beautiful and as I took sight of the model quality girls behind the bar, my retarded male mind jumped right to “I need a drinkâ€. I really don't know why but even knowing it's a ploy to get me to buy drinks, hot girls at bars make me buy drinks. I hate me for that but being a Captain Morgan fan and seeing only crappy rum, I go for an Orange juice and vodka figuring I could use the vitamin C.
Over the next few hours, I explore Space in all it's glory and must say that it did not disappoint. The ability to switch rooms and get a different club experience was great and the people were cool. I got to see some drunk-brit-on-holiday antics (sorry guys I know it's a stereotype but I really thought the staff was being as gentle and nice as possible given the situations). The x was really perfect tonight with a slow easy rise, no jitters, a clear head (I think booze had lost it's effect in general and I handle vodka like an Olympic Literball champ) the orange juice was delicious too and really seemed to help my failing organs rally. Needless to say, I was effectively out of money after about 2 hours, had popped my second pill, and after thoroughly exploring the place, returned to M&N with several conclusions:
1. I am apparently gay attractive. If I liked guys, I could have gotten laid about a dozen times in the past 2 hours.
2. While I believe I'm generally attractive to women, they do not seem all that interested when in a club and precious few are alone at all.
3. My chances of getting laid were decidedly low.
4. The grocery clerk was my new best friend as tonight's brain soufflé was most delicious and, in fact was good enough for a third helping.
5. The place was really filling up.
6. There is a room which I certainly will not be going back to again in the club right up the stairs on the right before you get to the top.
7. There was some excellent music to the left of the stairs on eth ground floor (the room like a cave).
So I convince them to give up their over watch spot and come enjoy the live sax and bongos going on. The sound was honestly not perfect but the room was small and people were less zombie and more enjoying the music here so we had a blast. Back in DC there was this guy that would play some of the nicer clubs (current sushi, Lima, and a drinks giving party at the W come to mind) and do a live Sax part. As “Mike†and I formerly frequented these places, we developed a taste for such performance and with old memories swirling enjoyed the entire set. Absolutely wonderful time.
So we resume post as the warm up to Carl Cox is underway. They guy has the dance floor pumping, the population is just short of crowded and everyone is having a great time. I have by now long since discovered that I can use my credit card (with passport ID to buy drinks) and the mix of MDMA and booze tonight produced literally the best vibe I have ever gotten surpassing LSD as my favorite experience. At this point, I must admit to falling into what I believe is my curse at space. I started getting bored. I don't know why the music was good, I just could not ‘get into it' maybe it's just the attraction of going somewhere else (a different room) but off I go on my own again… now just shy of completely wrecked but well in control.
After several more polite and flattering advances from men and one very promising encounter with a German girl who's eyes said yes but who's English was so bad (and my German so much worse) it just did not work L I found myself back with M&N looking over the dance floor when, out of the depth of my despair of not getting laid for yet another night, that most perfect thing happens. I make eye contact with an attractive blond in the crowd. Now, ladies and gentlemen, let me be honest, I have the uncanny ability to know, upon eye contact, if a woman is willing to sleep with me if I say and do the right things. It's a gift that is sometimes rewarded with opportunities such as this where I make eye contact and know for certain that she wants me as much as I want here and the rest is simply the prelude to a kiss.
So, upon this ray of sunshine hitting me square in the eye and realizing my current state, I recall asking “Nancy†‘hey, I know I'm a bit drunk and more than a little horny, see that blond down there? Will I regret that in the morning?'
This folks is why having a woman in your group is invaluable. She looks the situation over and replies ‘The one with the big tits? No, I think you should go for it. It'll be good for you.'
So I descend to the floor and make my way to over figuring casual was the best course for this and betting on patience paying off just dance nearby for a bit making eye contact occasionally and smiling. The return smiles proved that every woman loves a polite approach and a bit of flirting. During a lull in the volume I say hi praying with every bit of my soul that she speaks English. Thankfully she does… though it is actually British with a Russian accent. Cool pleased to meet you “Kayâ€. I get along well with Russians and have worked/partied with them enough to feel an extra surge of confidence that I am 100% getting laid tonight. Really, the only thought that was bugging me was ‘Is she an escort and just going to demand cash?... well that and is this the woman that will steal my kidneys?' (I tend to be a paranoid person in general).
We retire to the terrace and chat and actually hit it off surprisingly well with a genuine friendliness blooming between us. I offer a round of drinks as talking is thirsty work and as I mentioned previously, I may not lead with that and don't respond well if asked but at this point it was warranted. As I get the drinks, several guys descend on “Kay†attracted by the massive expanse of cleavage on parade all of whom look like someone ran over their puppy when I return and she puts an arm around my waist and takes her drink with a very pleasant thank you.
We get to talking some more and go down and dance some more and see Carl Cox who we agreed was actually a bit disappointing. Sorry but again, I just was not feeling it. The light show was great it was just that the music had no groove and felt almost mechanical. “M&N†were burning out by now and headed home in the middle of Carl's set. “Kay†and I enjoyed , more drinks, more dancing, and more patience on my part even though the additional half round of X was tricking my parts into feeling like I have a tiny octopus massaging my rod. Finally, during a transit to the restroom, she asks me what I want to do. I calmly reply that I would like very much to kiss her. Worked perfectly. Being Russian, the next words out of her mouth were said in true Russian humor “So now what would you like to do?†A quick reply of how does a nice walk along the beach back to my place works perfectly.
A beautiful stroll along the beach as the sun just started to brighten the horizon, a switch to straight Captain at my place (even I don't enjoy Captain straight but I was clean out of coke) as we watch the sun rise quickly saw her sloppily drunk. The result was a bit miserable and certainly less than satisfying for the evening.
.. I took a mad Russian stripper from Temptation to breakfast round the corner from the club in San An a couple of years ago. She was starving, ate a double hamburger and drink and I drove her home. She was a really nice girl and I enjoyed her company.