motor city madness

friday night didn't look right. it was raining and the party dude was sitting at home deciding if going to bed at 9:30 was a good idea. it turned out to be a bad one. after lying in bed for an eternally long, depressing hour i got myself out of bed and placed a call to dj who was watching a baseball game in the city. he was headed down to motorcity, a quaint little tavern in the LES with just a slight case of muscle-car madness. (ie ripped off car emblems adorn the whole damn place. from fairlanes to mustangs, there's auto imagery everywhere.) so i get myself together, plan my trip down there and take off. (i went with the G to JMZ double-fare maneuver. risky, yes, but it paid off. i got there in 25 minutes.) as a further aside, as i was walking in the rain under the JMZ to the hewes st. station with some blinking street lights and police cars racing by with full sirens i thought, "it's a good night to get murdered." seriously, the setting was straight out of a bad '70s cop movie. so i got to motorcity and i noticed the other signature attribute of this saloon. there's a 2 foot by 8 foot raised bench in a window that is occupied by a provocatively clad young lady with an ample bosom dancing up a storm to songs by great dance acts like the misfits and iron maiden. it's quite a show. the two women who danced while i was there actually made some money shaking there fannies in satin bikinis. so i had an idea...perhaps i could make some money doing the same thing. so when the "stage" was clear i jump on, pull my shirt up and start shaking it. i turn around and show everyone what my momma gave me and lo-and-behold a dollar bill is slipped down my trousers. astonishing! as i turn around to face the crowd i'm greeted by the 6'4" bouncer who simply says, "down." that quickly ended my escapade as an exotic dancer. later in the evening, while reflecting on the night as a whole i realized what a journey it had been, from the lowest low to party dude's top form. it's good to be back.