Fist pumpin’ like a chump

Bernardo Vigil, A&E Editor

It was the Crocs that made me the most uncomfortable. Yes, the tank-top and bleached booty shorts in December were disconcerting, but the Crocs did it for me. I had no idea who this girl was, or who had dressed her but––despite her best efforts to look sexy on the dance floor––I could only look at her feet. I watched her awkwardly bump ‘n’ grind for about a minute more; it was more of an Animal Planet type watch than anything naughty, but I watched. She looked up between butt-gyrations and smiled at me. I looked the other way and searched for somewhere else to be. Welcome to Synergy: Burnsville’s premier 16+ club.

The evening began with promise, not because I was excited to go clubbing, but because the original plan was to go to the movies. Black Swan had just come out, and I’m a big Aronofsky fan; needless to say, instead of having an evening filled with awkward sexual tension between Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis, I spent the night observing awkward sexual tension between greasy teenage boys and poorly dressed teenage girls. I still haven’t seen the movie.

Given my lack of enthusiasm for the new plan, I made no effort to change my outfit into something more befitting for the club. I left my house wearing black, ripped jeans; a black, ripped hoodie; a band t-shirt that read, “Baby, I’m an Anarchist”; a cycling cap; and my signature denim jacket complete with studs salvaged from an old belt, safety pins, and DIY patches. Entering the club, I was the only bit of civility in a sea of scantily-cad girls and The Situation wanna-be’s. Acid washed jeans and Ed Hardy ran wild. Uncomfortable is an understatement.

This was so bad irony couldn’t even justify my attendance. The DJ: poor. But, despite spinning bad techo-remixes of all of last year’s top 40 hits, people danced on. Well… “danced” is a strong word. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem grinding, but this, this was a bit much. More than once a girl got so low (and her butt movements so erratic) that not even her awkward, gripy, plastic footwear could keep her up and she fell on the very rear-end she was shaking. The best part of the whole situation was that the man (boy) the girl was rubbing on, didn’t help his fallen partner up once; no, he just moved on to the next near-naked girl with a low-cut shirt and self esteem issues. I wish I had been classy enough to do the same. Maybe then I would have enjoyed myself.