My First Asian Dance Party...

in Toronto, was like most dance parties back at home (continuing my stroll down memory lane).

Firstly, it reminded me of the Melbourne roadtrip where our big night out ended up in an asian dance club where the population looked 15 (legal age is 19 in TO). If there was ever a height restriction like for rollercoaster rides, the asian dance party scene would be non-existent. My friend dared me to pick up a guy that night, I said I would go through with it on one condition - if I succeed, she will need to continue the challenge by picking up someone shorter than my lucky guy (which really wasn't a challenge at all)... depending on how bored we were, we could have kept ourselves amused for some, but she had second thoughts.

Secondly, the club really reminded me of this real classy joint we used to hang out at all the time in first year... UTS Bar (ofcourse, none of us were from UTS). Yep, the disposable cups added a touch of elegance in the decor.

And lastly, it reminded me of all those RnB clubs I went to in Sydney where I would dance for about 5 songs, and sit out for the rest. I didn't mind it this time though... the heels, courtesy of the Exotic Dancer were killing me... and I expected the night to be like this anyways. Despite the bad and blarey music, I managed to find myself in a quiet haven in the corner of the club - just amusing myself with people watching.

It must be a universal thing with asian dance parties and RnB clubs - not just the average height, but the attitude of the music and the attitude of the people. From the line outside to the dance floor and the bar, you get a feeling that everyone is out to impress. To impress their friends, or perhaps that good-looking stranger across the room. And along with that, you're there to judge - you condemn the girl who istoo scantily dressed, you dismiss the guy who is trying too hard to impress, and you roll your eyes at the dude with the weird moves.

I must admit, I was guilty of being too judgemental.. yeah the height thing, but also when I was sitting in my corner, I resisted the urge to tap a guy on the shoulder and tell him that his tight black lycra tank top with his oversized-unbuttoned-white-shirt and similarly oversized-baggy-white-pants although suited his grease-slicked-hair, it didn't really do much for the girls he was trying to impress.

I guess I shouldn't be complaining about the attitudes at clubs, the fact that I couldn't find anything that impressed me makes me just as bad as the girl next to me who is out to impress.