Clubbing in Philly

I hated clubbing when I was in college. So when it was suggested by Chris Ian that we go clubbing in Philly after our full day of reunion stuff, I admit that I was not all that excited. It was only Chris Ian, Mark and I at that point, everyone else had left for their other plans. So, we didn't roll into Philly until just after midnight. I drove and Chris Ian was supposed to navigate. We were about 10 minutes outside of the city when I said, "Chris Ian, tell me where I need to go."

Chris Ian: Oh, just take the George Washington Bridge.

Mark: WE'RE NOT GOING TO FRIGGIN' NEW YORK, CHRIS IAN!!!!

Chris Ian: Oh, I meant the Betsy Ross Bridge.

Me: Um, Chris Ian, we're already in Pennsylvania.

Chris Ian: How 'bout the Ben Franklin?

Me: Chris Ian, we're already in PA!!! No bridges!!

Chris Ian: Oh. Well. Just follow the signs for Philly then.

Mark: Chris Ian, you are a hot tranny mess!!

When we got to the club we had the amazing luck to find immediate parking. We walked into the bar where Mark immediately recognized John. They've emailed each other a couple of times because a couple of friends are trying to set them up, but Mark had only seen his picture once. The FBI may need Mark on their side.

So we wandered the bar downstairs and then the one upstairs. Gay clubs are all sorts of fun for straight women. It's been explained to me like this: Straight women are like the little dogs that people take for walks in the park. We are conversation starters. And yes, I feel slightly objectified.

We made new friends with John and his group of friends. (When's our trip to Geneva, boys?!!) And after talking for awhile, Chris Ian and I decided to make the rounds one more time. We headed up to the club portion where we had a fabulous time!! I was so surprised at how much I enjoyed myself. I haven't danced in ages so it was fabulous to let go like that! I did learn, however, that there are creepy straight guys who go to the gay clubs and try to pick up the straight women. There was one in particular whose bumping and grinding was a little too close for comfort. Fortunately, I had a fierce Filipino man to protect me who still giggles when he thinks of the look on my face when the creepy straight guy came up behind me.



At 2 am, we collected Mark and happily headed out to our car..... which was gone. Then we looked closer at the sign. It's one of those city signs that has 8 different metal plates attached to it. Apparently, it read that it was NOT okay to park after midnight, where we had thought it was only ok to park after midnight.

Individually, we are highly intelligent people.

Collectively, we are a bunch of air-heads.

Mark ran inside to get his new friend, John who willingly came out and talked to a nice police man to find out where we needed to go, while I called to get the hours of the impound lot. Happily in Philadelphia they stay open until 3am, so we were in luck. John (we love you, John!!) drove us to a very unattractive part of town to get to the impound lot. Of course, I had to try to get me in my platform heels to the John's car parked several blocks away. This is why I don't where shoes like that EVER.

I would like to commend the city of Philadelphia on it efficient impound lot. We were able to make it out of there just after 3am and were back in Princeton by 4am. It only cost us $164.oo, which we just chalked up to a very expensive cover charge for the evening.

This was us at the impound lot:

Mark was NOT amused...and he was a little tipsy.

I look like I need to go to rehab in every picture, even though I was the designated driver for the evening. Tragic.
And this is Eeyore...I mean, Chris Ian. This is what one drink does to him. Our little hot tranny mess!!