What you see in the image is an expandable-keyboard cellphone. It is the number one sight viewed by yours truly this past Saturday night. I hit the club! OMG!! Everybody and their mother had a cellphone either in their hand, pocketbook or attached to their waist. My intended view was a bevy of delectable honeys in my direct or peripheral vision. Trust me - there was a ton and a half of beautiful, vivacious women to be ogled, but, these phones seemed to play a key role in their lives. I say that as every other moment was littered by one person or another glancing down at their phone, or diligently typing a response at lightning-fast speeds.
I found myself standing at the end of the bar, perusing the room to see which young lady would attract my eye first. As I glanced down, I saw no less than three cellphones gracing the bar, each lit with a neon-blue backlight. Upon glancing up again, there were cellphones in the hands of nearly everybody seated or standing at the bar - except for yours truly, of course. Those who held their phones in their hands were busy reading the latest text-message or creating one of their own to send to a waiting friend. Years ago, nearly everyone was seen in public with a pager attached to the hip. Next came a cellphone attached to the ear, which was followed by a long white cord that we have come to know as earbuds. Just that quickly, that sight has been replaced by expandable-keyboard cellphones. I was truly amazed at the amount that I saw this past Saturday night.
Of course, by now, you're wondering what in the world was I doing "at da club". I have a friend who needed to be out and about without the lure of being around the "old gang" - a recovering addict. I thought that I would show him that a good time can be had without the use of drugs and alcohol. This is the second outing that we've had, the first inside a club. He seems to be getting the hang of it and it looks at though it may become a fairly regular thing. Fortunately for me, it will only be every other weekend that he is in town.
We went to a club called "Morgan's", which is a club that I had frequented years ago. Figuratively speaking, it was my second home. I had ventured into this particular club about four years ago, after not having been there for a very long time. I stayed all of ten (10) minutes before walking back out the door. Everyone in the club seemed young enough to be my child or grandchild! A year later, I entered Morgan's again, wondering why I had only stayed a few minutes the last time. Needless to say, it didn't take me long to remember. So, years later, there I was, again.
An extremely attractive woman, who was seated at the bar right beside me, leaned over, while pulling tickets from her pocketbook, and asked if I'd be interested in attending a fish-fry at another popular hot-spot. I kindly replied that I'd think about it. She smiled and returned to staring off into space, sipping on some bottled brew. I eyed her off and on from the corner of my eye, but, decided not to start conversation as it would lead to nowhere, what with the ages of the attendees. My buddy had found his way to the dancefloor and was shaking quite a tailfeather when I spotted him. As a few patrons to my left rose to leave, I quickly scrambled for a seat, in the corner, in the dark. I ordered another ginger ale, much to the dismay of the barmaid, and prepared to nurse it for the remainder of the night. Finally, my buddy left the dancefloor and headed for the bar for some liquid libations to cool himself down. He stopped to order at precisely the same spot from which I had recently moved - next to this vivacious woman with the tickets. She was now talking to her girlfriend who was seated next to her, but, when bud strolled up, the tickets came up for air, once again. He didn't buy a ticket but proceeded to chat with her for quite some time, buying them drinks as they both giggled (the two ladies, that is). Later, he tells me that this vivacious young lady that I so graciously and magnanimously passed up was (so he tells it) thirty-eight (38) years old - not the as-young-as-my-daughter vixen that I had earlier supposed.
There is a very real, very valid reason that I stay out of clubs these days. I can see myself engaged in a flirtacious evening with some fresh, young hottie and she decides to make a post of it on her My Space or Facebook page. I can see my name, description, and possible photo (what with today's gadgety phones) on her page. I also see my daughter's profile there in the "friends" section. OMG!!! Is there a rock that I can crawl under right now???!!! Years ago, I walked into Morgan's, and walked right back out because the crowd was way too young for me. I'm sorry - waaaaaaaay too young for me. Ironically, because of my humanitarian gesture taking place, I finally stayed this time, struck gold in a beautiful, vivacious vixen who was not as-young-as-my-daughter, and I passed on the opportunity. Sheez!!
We left the club about ten minutes before closing, and headed for the car. After realizing that the club was about to close, we decided to stand outside the front door with the rest of the crowd and watch the parade of exiting honeys (as if we weren't going to do it anyway). The procession was inudated by expandable-keyboard cellphones either being read or typed upon. They were making the "hook-up" or lying about why they couldn't make the "hook-up". Either way, it was all being executed by way of man's latest form of human contact and communication - the expandable-keyboard cellphone . . . at da club.
copyright © 2008 blackstarr
