| rev:text
| - There's a certain set of rules and etiquette that comes into play when a group of guys are good friends, most commonly known as the "Bro Code". Exact rules and regulations vary, but the core values remain the same. Sometimes the code is employed to avoid disputes or to show proper respect, and sometimes in the name of the code, you end up doing something you wouldn't normally do; "Taking one for the team" as they say, to help benefit a fellow "Bro". In accordance with the code and the rules of Karma, I found myself in just such a situation: I set foot in the Dance Cave.
Upon entrance, you'll notice that cover is $6, or free with a student card. Needless to say, from the onset it's clear that I don't represent Dance Cave's target demographic. We're at odds, you might say, because for several reasons they don't represent my ideal bar/club either.
First and perhaps most glaringly, was the DJ. Either he was doing it for free, or lost a flair for his work a number of years ago. We're in an age where DJing has become an art form a competent DJ with an ear for flow and seamless progressions can make all the difference. The job of a good DJ is to guide listeners around musical twists and turns; interesting song selection can often take a backseat to creative song sequence. On this night, there were many more "what the fuck?"s upon the start of a new song than excitement. The venue could have put an iPod on shuffle, and got a more cohesive mix than what this guy was doing. If party-rocking legend DJ Z-Trip is a surgeon, this guy is trying to preform ocular surgery with a tire iron.
As someone born in the early 80s, another interesting perk to the Dance Cave and their specific clientèle (most looking to have been born in the early 90s) afford you the rare opportunity to feel like the old guy in the club. Nothing drives your own age home like being sandwiched between guys in Kanye sunglasses (indoors) and girls in kafia scarves, and getting excited when a Nirvana song comes on, only to realize the people around you see no difference between it and classic rock staples like "Sweet Home Alabama" in terms of cultural relevance. You feel like Donny Kerabatsos: Out of your element.
But alas, kids will be kids, the Dance Cave will surely continue to thrive, and I'm going to stop short of using the word "Whippersnappers" in my increasingly curmudgeonly sounding diatribe. So, in conclusion, Dance Cave is the club equivalent of those parody based "_____ movie" comedies: If you were born before 1990, have developed tastes and aren't going into it ironically, you will likely leave confused and irritated.
Oh, the things you do for friends in need...
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