Chinese Night Lights

Insert late night club scene. One of my absolute favorite things to do in Xi’an is to get a group together and go to one of the many many dance clubs that are scattered around within the city walls. Ever since I can remember I have enjoyed dancing. I love the club atmosphere, loud music pounding in your chest, lights moving with the beat casting you in and out of darkness. I love the energy of a crowded dance floor. The clubs in Columbia have always left a bit to be desired. The ones that were actually designed for the clubbing dancing scene never lasted long, they would phase in and out of popularity, usually with the changing of the seasons. Summertime rolls around a new dance club pops up, by September the crowds have put away their dancing shoes like they put away their summer shorts. Not here, here is what I have always wanted my scene to be.

DJs with actual turn tables grace large stages. Girls adorned in sequined dresses take the podiums in every corner and grind to a choreographed routine. Tables are packed with guys and gals bopping to the beat. This is where the gender differences seem to be checked at the door. Everyone is smoking, everyone is drinking whiskey. Each table has a server, 100RMB notes are handed over in a clump and in return a bottle of whiskey is bought. The mixer can range from sports drink to bottled tea. It is mixed in a large pitcher with ice and then poured into a carafe. Drinks are then distributed into glorified shot glasses, which noticeably helps the liquor go down quicker.

Glancing around the room it would seem that everyone is subtly dancing and using strange little hand motions, then it becomes clear that there is a motive to these little motions, drinking games. There are containers of dice being rolled, clapping and signs being thrown from corner to corner. Each game a variation on the last and each group, each circle of friends has a tailor-made version. The games are done in tune to the music, most of them relying on the down beat of each song bounding out of the speakers. The games do their trick, the more you play the more you drink the harder it becomes to play the more you drink and the cycle is in full swing.

It is odd to think that a break from the table is actually needed and the dance floor becomes a good place to regroup. Most of the tables are tall with one or two stools, making it easy to stand. It also helps accommodate the number of people that can pack themselves into these highly popular locals. Making it to the dance floor is much like winding your way through a labyrinth of smoke signals and staring eyes. Once there, on the floor, arms spin hands clap legs bend and hair bounces. Each song blends seamlessly as does the ever changing partner in front of, behind or all around.

Leaving this pounding place, once entered, isn’t even considered until the bottles are all dry, and the yearning for food from the corner stand replaces the pull of the dance floor. Piling out onto the taxi lined street, buying kabobs of lamb and other meat, raised voices carrying us off home to sleep.

Staring out of the taxi window a contented little giggle breaks my smile, for I am forever in love with China at night.