Went to "Boom Boom Room" last night.

So, last night I went to "Boom Boom Room", the Monday night party that's 10pm-4am, but doesn't really get started till like 11:30pm, and then on top of that, no one really comes to hear the featured deejay till like 12:30am or 1:00am or so, so overall it's pretty crazy. I've heard of this shit for like a year now, but Mondays are a killer, but at the same time they're the new frontier, though when every Monday rolls around, my friends puss out on me, and I look at the clock and it's 10:30pm and I'm tired, and I keep thinking to myself, "Who are these people who go out on Mondays?" But, yesterday me and my Dutch friend went, so I finally found out.

It was insane, since it was like 8pm on a Monday and I was just dressing up to go out, and then downtown when I was looking to get a shot of espresso, most of the coffee shops were closed, and this was still like three-and-a-half hours before the shit really got started. But, I found one, then I met my friend at a nearby winebar with an outdoor patio, and we had a few glasses of wine while I watched rats chase each other across the sidewalk like six feet away from us, which pleased me to no end since the neighborhood was really, really nice and I liked the idea of rats cavorting in these way too expensive outdoor plantings. Finally, though, it was like 10:30pm, so we decided to head over a few blocks to the more industrial area where the club was.

At the door, there was this short Spanish dude in his mid-40s, with a white shirt on and big hairy chest, and he seemed to run the place. He reminded us that it was a big place but would fill up in an hour, and that tonight they were having a free barbecue out back, but that that shit was just getting set up, but if we waited around we could get some. So, me and my friend got some Bud Lights ($3 each, very reasonable, and this was in addition to no cover before 12pm) and just waited around and talked, and looked at all the people come in. There was a good mix of people - it wasn't clique-y at all - and many men had gold chains on, and the women were really slutted up, though it was very natural and not at all forced, which was nice. There were also many black transvestites, who tended to be overdressed, and later too then there was this crazy Latina woman with a giant pink paper flower in her hair, only the giant pink paper flower was as big as her head.

When the barbecue was finally ready, though, we headed over and stood in line for the hotdogs, and this one late 30s woman in black with black hair who had been eyeing my friend was standing near us, so I decided to be nice and ask her if she was in line for a hotdog, and of course when she said no, I offered to get her one.

"Oh no thank you," she was like, "I ate before I came."

"Come on," I was like, "It's like one of my friends says, 'If you can still bend over, you can still eat more,'" which she laughed at, but then she took the elastic waist of her pants and stretched it out and held it for a second so we could see her cooter and her slightly flabby belly and was like, "Oh no, this is getting too tight," and then like two seconds later she was like, "And plus my three year-old always eats hotdogs, so if I got one, I would be forced to hold out my plate and ask for macaroni and cheese with it."

"Wow," I was like, "You must feel guilty for stuffing her full of preservatives," which she didn't think was funny, though she gave me the benefit of the doubt and started saying how the other week her three year-old was like, "Mommy, isn't it so cool that the chicken on the farm and the chicken we eat are two different things, but the same word?", after which we started talking about how easy it is to eat animals when they come in trays in supermarkets.

(Now that I write that last sentence, I wonder if she was just nuts - whose three year-old talks like that?)

Soon the conversation segued into whether you could eat animals if you had to kill them, so I started telling the story of how my dad mercy-killed a goose with his bare hands, and even though she was upset by my description of the goose who wandered around on the ice-covered lake dragging its broken wing in February (you could see it in her face), she made me stop the story when I said my dad stepped up to the goose to wring its neck, so I left her and my Dutch friend together and went off to wander and get some more beers.

When I returned, they were still talking, which made me nervous, so I sat down next to this black transvestite who was at least 6'3" and named Nicole and who didn't even try to talk like a woman even though she was wearing a tight navy blue pantssuit with large golden suns with faces on them all over it, and after we introduced ourselves, I pointed out my one Dutch friend and mentioned that I was keeping my eye on him.

"You should," she was like, "You have no idea what's out there," and with that she gave me a serous look.

She added, too, that she had just rolled out of bed because her brother and his girlfriend had been wanting her to take them to Boom Boom Room for months, and for whatever reason they had been calling all night because tonight was the night.

The rest of the night the club filled up, and we kept drinking, and at some point the club owner, the hairy-chested Spanish guy, was leading his wife or his girlfriend or whoever around by the hand, and not only was she this short kind of pouty hispanic woman in capri-lenght jeans and a tight white t-shit and decently high heels, but she was also massively pregnant and sipping a Corona.

Anyhow, me and my one Dutch friend agreed that we're definitely going back to this shit sometime. "The best Monday ever."