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I sat on the couch yesterday in my pajamas far later than I should have… I had a few old boxes in front of me, filled with photographs, club flyers and backstage passes from another life. I had long ago sealed these boxes, tired of a life spent in search of sunrise, tired of strobe lights, glitter, fishnet stockings and
that dirty house beat that was so loud I could breath it in and have it kick start my exhausted insides.
My only memories of that life now is a small DJ Tiesto tattoo on my left ankle-- my fake orange tan had faded along with my toned abs and arms, and one by one my club life family drifted off as I stopped chasing DJs around the world.
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It was a life I happily left behind once I knew my body had had enough, and looking at these old photographs I was seriously horrified. Who was this girl? I was rail thin, sweaty and dancing like a maniac, dressed in clothing that I knew was under my bed in an equally as horrifying box that I didn’t open very often. Regardless of how much tape these boxes had wrapped around them,
I couldn’t deny my club kid roots when I heard that DJ Tiesto was coming to the area
again with his College Invasion tour. It had been about four years since I had last seen him at the Winter Music Conference in Miami, and there was no way I was missing this.
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My friend Marie and I drove to the University of Rhode Island geared up and ready to party last night; I was excited to show Marie my hometown of Kingston and the college campus where I went to school. As we crossed over into Kingston I had a thought that maybe parking would be a nightmare-- we should park on campus at my parents house and walk over. A quick phone call to the parents and the car was parked and Marie and I found ourselves in the car with my father who had insisted he drive us the venue.
29 years old in a black bra top and pinstripe vest with thigh high black buckled boots, getting dropped off by my father.
What a start. He dropped us off at the Ryan Center amidst a sea of scantily clad women. A girl in a tube top with fringe flying everywhere jogged towards the entrance.
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“Oh,” my father says matter of factly. “I thought that was a jogger; turns out it was just a teenage hooker.” We wave goodbye and walk towards the front door, a growing feeling of dread coming over me. Once again, I’m surrounded by children. Was anyone here able to drink legally? When the hell did neon everything come back into style? Beer would solve this.
“Where’s the beer?” I asked a guard, panicking after seeing nothing but Diet Coke signs.
“No beer,” he replied, and all of a sudden it hit me. Havoc, you idiot. You went to school here.
This is a dry campus. No beer. No. Beer.
Marie and I walked to our seats in a stupor. A club night sober? This was going to be really interesting. Porter Robinson was spinning as we found a place to set up camp, the majority of guys around us already shirtless and wearing black and neon pink sunglasses that I definitely owned when I was ten. Hair gel bitched slapped us in the face and girls in nothing but white underpants stood around us. Even with my boobs practically out in the breeze I felt like I was wearing way too much.
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Nothing mattered when Tiesto took the stage. I felt like I was seeing an old friend; the beat cut right though me and it was like I had never left this scene. This felt like coming home in more ways than just a drive to Rhode Island and a ride to school from my father. Once a club kid always a club kid; those strobe lights and house beats are never too far off, and apparently I had no qualms about dancing once Tiesto was involved.
“You were like a caged animal set free,”
Marie said as we were leaving, smiles plastered to our faces. We might have been the oldest ones there, and the only ones not in neon fringe and underwear, but we killed it in there. And sober, too. Wow.