The club handled me just fine, actually.

The girl behind us in line was 18, and dropped
 her  iPhone on the ground twice. Later, she
danced on an pedestal inside the club. 

While all of you were enjoying my wonderful sister's posts on books and other nerd accessories, I was busy clubbing and jet-setting to the Caribbean (read: I went to a club for the first time in my life and I took a four day "work retreat" to Puerto Rico). So: city danger central, as you can imagine.  My next post will cover PR, but right now: Da Club.

Night Club Take-away Points: 

• Lines are humiliating. It is humiliating to wait with herd of teenage cattle in the frigid night air for the privilege of paying double digits just to get through the front door.My friend made the mistake of asking why we weren't in the "cool line," referring to the gaggle of people opposite us that were getting in faster. The reply, swift and pert, came from the tall blonde nightclub staffer: there is no cool line. And I quote, "Cool people don't wait in lines." Oh.

• Kelly Rowland is amazing. My sister and I already knew this. We had been listening to "Commander" on loop for several weeks. Still, when the DJ shifted seemlessly between "Commander" and Kid Cudi's "Memories" (Guetta-gasm!), I'm not gonna lie, I got a little weak in the knees. 

Correct. 

• Ciroc is for serious. You think it's going to be innocuous because it's primarily marketed as the go-to glamorous elixir for effete hip-hop singers (yes, I said it). So you're thinking: this is going to be like Belvedere or Pravda or some other pansy juice. But no, it bears down on your throat like a buzz saw and makes your stomach consider violent suicide all night long. Thank you, Sean Combs. 

• The club is self-aware. While in the club, we heard "Club Can't Even Handle Me Right Now," "DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love Again," and "Love in This Club" in the span of maybe an hour. The club, like that one overly-nostalgic friend you have, is not afraid to narrate the experiences you currently having, blow-by-blow, as they occur. Are you falling in love with that one girl on the pedestal of underage girls over there? Do you just want everyone to stop calling, because you don't want to talk any more? Did you leave your head and heart are somewhere else? The dance floor, perhaps? That's exactly what the club was hoping.