College memory someone else gave back to me #564.
I posted a thing on facebook asking who put Rumpshaker in my iTunes because it wasn't me (of course it was, I eventually figured out that it came from a torrent full of songs from Veronica Mars) and my college friend Wendy - now a land developer who lives in Dubai - said "Wasn't this playing that time when you Greta and I stepped into the Wrong Club in KC looking for some rave?"
I had completely forgotten about that. It was when we were living in the dorm - Greta was Wendy's erstwhile alcoholic roommate whose one redeeming feature was her ability to play "Crockett's Theme from Miami Vice" with truly great depth of feeling on her synthesizer. I mean, seriously, she could make you weep with that stuff.
Greta got news of some big rave in Kansas City. I drove. We thought we'd found the right place in a busted-down low income neighborhood - it seemed abandoned on all sides and boomy in the middle, which is generally how it goes - and we walked in. Which is when we found ourselves, three little white girls wearing stupid rave clothes, in the middle of an unlicensed ghetto nightclub.
CONSPICUOUS. We danced - possibly to Rumpshaker, possibly to Mr. Boombastic. Nobody wanted anything to do with us, positive or negative. So eventually we left. As I recall, we then drove to the epicenter of white privilege in Kansas City and had some wings. MORE IRONY. Unintentional.
Ha.
I had completely forgotten about that. It was when we were living in the dorm - Greta was Wendy's erstwhile alcoholic roommate whose one redeeming feature was her ability to play "Crockett's Theme from Miami Vice" with truly great depth of feeling on her synthesizer. I mean, seriously, she could make you weep with that stuff.
Greta got news of some big rave in Kansas City. I drove. We thought we'd found the right place in a busted-down low income neighborhood - it seemed abandoned on all sides and boomy in the middle, which is generally how it goes - and we walked in. Which is when we found ourselves, three little white girls wearing stupid rave clothes, in the middle of an unlicensed ghetto nightclub.
CONSPICUOUS. We danced - possibly to Rumpshaker, possibly to Mr. Boombastic. Nobody wanted anything to do with us, positive or negative. So eventually we left. As I recall, we then drove to the epicenter of white privilege in Kansas City and had some wings. MORE IRONY. Unintentional.
Ha.