You ever have that one friend who has the greatest luck in the world. No matter how awful his/her plans begining, they always end in some unbelievable night with fireworks and brilliant coincidences leading to an unforgettable evening. Well, my friends name “Geoff”, we ll call him, was overwhelmed with gifts from God… Athletic, charming, and armed with a foreign accent. Odds tilted in his favor, and he embraced it.
The night had almost never begun. I was tired, and trying to stay on a solid schedule. “Geoff” always was ready for a good time, and he had talked his way into free tickets to the worlds largest night club (no surprise, the world was at his feet).
He always had a way of convincing me, the silver tongue man from the Queen’s land. Within the hour I found myself in the belly of La Vela, America s largest night club. Really, it was more of a theme park; a pool, 7 different themed club rooms, a billiard lounge, pizza place, souvenir shop, and beach front view.
We walked in like we owned the place. I, the small town sort of redneck/euro off the wall type. “Geoff”, essentially James Bond without the suit, too many times I’ve seen women melt at the sound of his voice (it may seem like a man crush, just meet him and tell me I’m lying). Finally, a friend from “the Paris of the West” (according to him, that meant Pittsburg), let’s call him Pete.
Together we formed a potent trio. And the dance floor was never ready. 3 hours later, and many songs, sorority girls, and awful dance moves later…. Geoff and I had enough of the techno-ish nightclub scene…. So being in the largest nightclub in the world— we headed to the hip hop room…. And sounding as white as I can, cause I know that’s how I looked… We began to “throw down”, challenging one and all to dance offs. And of course, in my many years I have perfected this.
***key. Walk up to random, urban or awkwardly dressed man (either work). Proceed to grab shirt at shoulder, shake, and create a circle around said individual. Within 5-8 seconds, he will be dancing.
I was a grain of salt in a sea of pepper on the dance floor, and I wasn’t phased… But I had lost “Geoff”
Scanning the floor, something caught my eye. Geoff, waving me up. He had talked his way into the VIP section. So Pete and I made I way up.
As we stood like kings on the balcony, having been introduce to a Russian named Vlad who I assumed was either a billionaire or a mafia man, I found myself standing next to a little round black guy armed with shades and a large body guard.
As we stood, we took turns pointing out the most beautiful girls in the club, and as we did my new friend pointed at them, a security guard would then add them to our VIP party.
Funny, me and the guy had similar tastes in beautiful women, but who was he?
A minute later I found out… It was the autotune man himself, T-Pain. As the night raged on, so too did the stories.
My friend Pete, speaking in a regular American accent, managed to convince all he was a music producer from New Zealand, and co writer of 5 o’clock in the morning. A line formed to take pictures with him….
As I attempted to woo an angel, I had inadvertently crossed t-pain’s path… Our taste was too similar. And before I knew it I was back on the dance floor, looking up to the VIP section.
But cheers to T-Pain, for a night I’ll never forget, and another round of dance-offs which I remained undefeated….
Secret, do the Russian dancer as the final move— as Will Ferrell. It can’t be beat.
That’s how a dance off lead to a night out til 5 o’clock in the morning with T-Pain (without dreads not as cool). Something. Something. Auto-tune.