Noorwijk aan Vegas

Last night, I made the most amazing discovery…the club scene of Noordwijk, Holland.
It started off as a peaceful Saturday night. My new friend Caro from Columbia and I met for drinks at a cute little bar called “The Grand.” It is on the street of many a bar that I hear can be quite hoppin’…in the summer time. So we settled into the outdoor (covered and heated) patio around nine o’clock for a nice glass of wine and conversation. The place wasn’t very busy at all, and there was faint music coming from inside the bar. We enjoyed the people watching too as girls wearing nothing walked by obviously freezing in the zero degree weather.
We talked for about two hours before Caro excused herself to go the restroom and came out with some unexpected and exciting news…there was a dance floor inside. I had not come out to go dancing and was therefore debating not going inside, but when a good Beyonce is used as rebuttal, I have no choice but to concede. So after a little persuading, I followed her in, checked my coat, and ventured onto the dance floor that had maybe ten people on it. Thinking we would pull of a few dance moves then hit the road, we began taking full advantage of the empty floor.
It’s a good thing we took advantage then because within the next half hour, the entire floor was jam-packed. We could not move. At one point Caro excused herself to the restroom and what was originally a fifteen second walk, now left me stranded talking for about ten minutes to some guy who’d been hitting on Caro for the past five. Not that we got much speaking done. And no I don’t mean that in any way dirty, I mean it in the way that it was so loud, we had to yell into each other’s ears and then repeat ourselves a good three or four times. All the noise and people made me long for the peacefulness that is the Vegas club life…But we were having fun. We were still pulling off some killer moves, I’m pretty sure my version of the white man’s overbite was under control, and the music was amazing. But then guys started showing up. I hate to break it to you boys out there, but dancing with girls in clubs just kills our mood. I know it’s a stereotype, and many a comedian has made fun of us for it, but it’s totally true. And it doesn’t matter if you’re hot or not, you have one move and one rhythm, which means that as women we lose all freedom to be awesome in our choreographic prowess. We have to stand there, not talk to you, and kind of bounce back and forth so as not to throw off the immense concentration that goes into standing next to a girl and swaying to the music. This is why women go to clubs where the men are not interested in them sexually…it’s there that we are able to bust out what can only be described as Ballroom Dancing of the 21st Century.
But all ranting aside, when we finally left, we wandered down the street, bid each other farewell, and made it back to the comfort of our nice warm beds. Awaking the next morning (I can call it that because thankfully it was still before noon) with my ears still ringing, I made coffee, and immediately got onto the facebook to invite all my newly acquired girlfriends over for a weekend in Noordwijk that I’m sure will rival any one in LA. And who thought this was just a beach town?

Word of the day – discotheque - club