Memories of the Club

I went to my first nightclub a matter of days before I started college. It was called Trilogy, and it was, like many other clubs of the time, a rave venue trying to go mainstream. A converted warehouse, the club had a main room, a 2nd room, a chillout room, and an upstairs bar. At 18, I was a sober virgin, and since the place was full of fat beats and dancing girls, I needed only water and acceptance of an invitation to dance. A fellow freshman took me up on that last, and we parked our hips together in the middle of the floor.

Danced All Night.

Now, I'd heard of such a thing, and I'm a born dancer, but this was the first opportunity in my life to dance until they kicked us out. 5, maybe 6 hours straight we went - the house beats never stopped and this music enveloped us. I knew I had found my church, my soul cleansing ritual. I didn't know it then, but I'd also found a rich connection not only to the people with whom I share this ritual, but also to the whole history of the act of dance. This history and practice of dance is a beautiful prism through which to view humanity, and so my memories of the height of my club years are maybe the best memories I have of my late teens and early twenties.

After that first night, I went as much as I could. Around a college campus in an urban environment, that can be a lot. There were times when I would be at the club four or five, sometimes even six nights a week. I went to college and worked my first full-time job during this era, though I did neither of those activities very well. Finding a place to dance? Now, that, I was good at.

There was college ID night at Cub 1148 on Wednesdays, friendly with the bouncer at the Beach Club on Thursdays. Before I was 21, Fridays were always fraternity parties, but if they didn't have a dance floor, we were stealing their beer and bouncing. I would happily settle for a smaller party, or even a dorm room, if there was dancing. After I was 21, it was easy. Fridays were the Basement.

The Basement was where I learned to drink beer. It's also where I learned how to know when to stop drinking beer. It's the only place where I was ever picked up by a woman I didn't know. When we had visitors from Egypt who wanted to try the American night life, I took them to the Basement. We didn't get to stay all that long, because one of them was so fascinated with tequila that he insisted on having 2 shots within about 5 minutes of each other, and then proceeded to puke on the middle of the dance floor. We left fast. The Basement played a lot of 80s and 90s dance pop: Madonna, Prince, Michael Jackson, as well as a selection of contemporary dance and hip hop hits. It was a blast and a half, and we were proper regulars. I knew it took me about $30 of cheap beer (and kind tips) to get a nice buzz on, so payday was the bomb, while end-of-month nights were a little drier. We always had a designated driver who was allowed one drink at the beginning of the night, and we rotated amongst ourselves. The place was decorated like a basement - washer and dryer, old couches, a toilet with a life size doll depicting the owner of the local football team in the defacatory posture. Upstairs featured a deck open to the river, with a giant block of ice and a dentist's chair for taking fancy shots. We saw Eiffel 65 perform there in 99! This was a seriously wonderful place and moment. And we danced.

We danced in Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Salt Lake City, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, NorCal, SoCal, Canada, Mexico. Finding the right club at the right time was a treasure hunt, and the payoff was the perfect dance floor. Proper dancers - no meat market. Packed but not too packed. Drunk but not too drunk. Poppy, but not too poppy. BAR had a DJ that talked over the music, but they played Biggie, so we went. The gay clubs had a sweet vibe, but only played house music, so we went. The little clubs played sweet music, but were often full of haters, so we went and stayed in a group. We tried them all at least once, though we ended up at the Basement after most of them. It was tough, and sometimes disappointing search. We still went - my club buddies and I had no problem dancing by ourselves. This makes us lots of fun to invite to your wedding.

Probably about the time I turned 30, I stopped going to the club as much. As I worked harder during the day, I couldn't stay out late enough to make it worth it, and at the same time, the house parties got better: better drinks, better food, better music, better crowds. Now we throw that nightclub vibe when we party at home, which thankfully is often.

I still think of the club fondly. I'll be back, I'm sure (though I'm more likely dancing in my living room with my new daughter these days. I often say I'm glad I survived those years, and it's true - these are certainly overall not the best parts of my life. So it's more that I'm glad I lived those years. They were really good and adventurous and energetic and fun. There's proper lessons to be learned on the dance floor, and I'm glad I spent my time there.

Thoughts on Being a New Parent

I'm just about to finish paternity leave and go back to work. Of course, paternity leave has been a profound time for me, and being a new parent is expanding my perceptions. Here are some things I have learned during this experience.

1. Breastfeeding is a shitload of work, and our culture does not value or recognize this work enough. It’s been quite lovely to watch Dana practice the art of breastfeeding, but damn, does she have to do it all the time. It’s amazing because it’s relentless work that takes patience and gentleness and the payoff is just as relentless. The relationship between food, growth and excretion is really clear right now, and it’s powerful (in a messy, smelly way) to see that relationship develop. So cheers to breastfeeding moms, who should be counted as heroes.¹


2. The stability of our relationships really helps make this easier. Figuring out what to do with this baby is testing our marriage. I am grateful that Dana and I have established habits of communication and compromise, as we have relied heavily on both these past few weeks. We have well-seasoned friendships with people we trust, many of whom are parents themselves, and we’ve called upon those friendships daily during Dana’s birthing time and our time at home. Our tribe continues to support us on both practical and emotional levels, and this support means I have never once felt alone as a new parent. I don’t think our culture talks about this either. We say it’s good to be married and have a stable circumstance, but we never say you should have a conscious network of supportive people around you. Sure, to a certain extent we encourage blood relatives to participate in child-rearing, but often times, this is unhealthy if those relatives are hostile or toxic. My wife’s parents, along with my brother and sister-in-law, have been extraordinarily kind and supportive throughout Dana’s pregnancy and the first few weeks of our daughter’s birth, and I would agree that blood relatives who are happily engaged in the process are ideal caretakers. However, a good friend who loves the new child and serves that child cheerfully is much better than a relative who brings negativity.


3. I have a new subcultural identity. Whereas in my day I have experimented with various subcultural scenes, I now find myself in the urban parenting subculture. We have special events with behavior codes outside of the norm (poop talk). We recognize each other by wearing certain uniforms (Ergo carriers and coffee cups). We use inside slang (“boppy”, “blowout”, “tummy time”). It’s pretty great because, like other subcultures, there’s wisdom and history to be had there, not to mention tribal identity.


4. My child and my friends’ children make me hopeful about the future. I’ve enjoyed time with my friends’ children so much. I’ve found them funny, innovative, and well cultured². I know that these children have the potential to make the world a much brighter place, and I’m excited to work together with them!


5. A healthy child is the greatest treasure I could ask for. When I walk down the street with my daughter wrapped snugly to my chest, people stop and stare, often starting conversations with me about her. Cars stop to let me cross and people hold doors for me. Everyone sincerely congratulates us on having a healthy baby, and many people really open themselves to sharing our joy. It’s encouraging to see people around me valuing this being as much as I do. Intellectually, I know we’re just attracted to cute babies for evolutionary reasons, but I still like people showering my baby with love and kisses and cuddles.

Overall, I couldn't be more excited to be at this phase of our lives. I have barely a clue what comes next, but I’m curious about all of it, especially about who this little person really is. She’s already shown a really positive response to music. In fact, as I write this, she’s asleep in her room with some of Dana’s massage therapy music on in the background. She’ll sometimes sleep a solid 3 hours like this, which these days is a huge treat. She also stopped stopped crying when I played Limp Bizkit for her the other day (What? I was experimenting!), so I know it’s not just the mellow music she responds to. A good friend told me it’s like we get a little sliver of their personality every day, and it eventually all adds up. Like anything, I’m sure there’ll be good days and bad days, but the experience of paternity leave has been quite fulfilling and life-affirming. I wonder what comes next...



1. I am sure that formula feeding brings its own set of challenges, and I am sure those moms are heroes as well. Breastfeeding was right for our family, so it’s the only experience to which I can speak.

2. I understand having the opportunity to be exposed to quality culture is an expression of class privilege. I believe it is a facet of class privilege which, like education, can be used in a benevolent and compassionate manner. Therefore I believe parents who have the opportunity to give their children good education and culture should do so, and teach them how to turn around and use that privilege for the good of their community.