Close encounters of the dancefloor kind

Everyone looks forward to the weekends, and I am no different.

Because weekends mean clubbing!! Party farty arty baby!!

The crux of clubbing/partying has always been the same through the ages. The old adage best explains the 3 primary ingredients of a night of debauchery - "Wine, Women and Song"

Personally I prefer "Vodka, Chicks and R&B".

With my newly obtained "Working Man" status, I am now able to go clubbing with a zest and verve so strong that I sometimes feel like I'm floating on the dancefloor.

Actually, that could be the alcohol - but anyways....

Me and my "crew" - yes I have a "crew" - have been frequenting this Punjabi club called "Sharara". The reasons we hit this joint are as follows:

- One of my "crew" can only find his partying nirvana on bhangra music
- The manager treats us very well
- My cousin is one of the deejays there
- Punjabi wimmin
- 250 a bottle!

You can put them in your own order of importance. I just can't do it. It's too tough.

Anyways last nite, we hit the place at around midnite. Alerting the manager to our imminent arrival beforehand, we were promptly given a table next to the dancefloor and DJ console, on a raised platform where we can chill on sofas. Walking through the somewhat packed crowd straight to our table in full view of everyone was the closest I've felt to royalty.

Now let me tell you a story about a girl I met during a wedding function a few months back. Well actually I tried to meet her lah, without much success. I was lucky she even said "Hello" to me. I tried to dance with her upon being introduced by a mutual friend, but no interest was shown despite my exhuberant attempts to impress her with my dancing skillz. Score : Rejection 1 - Me 0.

A couple of weeks ago I once again met her at a function at a relatives place. Well actually once again I tried to meet her but to no avail. I made eye contact, smiled and waited for a response...

Score : Rejection 2 - Me 0

At this point I'm thinkin "Screw it man. Don't waste your time. It's her loss anyways, not yours".

No really, it IS her loss. I am that much of a man to be able admit that without shame.

So anyways, back to last nite. There I was chilling on our (VIP) table by the dancefloor. I had my eye on this girl in a red dress. Couldn't really get a good look at her though as it was dark. So I made do with watching her shake her booty on the floor.

Suddenly, she makes eye contact with me, so naturally I smile back. THEN, she calls me over...

At this point I nearly spilled half my glass at the shock of the situation. I was on unfamiliar territory.

So I go over to her...

Woman In Red (WIR) : Youre (xxxx)'s nephew right?
Me: Err, yes. *clears throat* Yes I am. Do I know you from somewhere?
WIR: You're XXXXX right? You were at the function in Setapak a couple of weeks ago. I saw you there...
Me: Yeah I was..oh ok. Now I recognise you! Sorry la, bad lighting and all you see (cue nervous laugh)

Honestly people, I really didn't recognise her. It WAS dark okay!!! And from what little I knew, apparently she was a good, innocent girl type so she was one of the last people I'd expected to see on the dancefloor of a club.

Me: By the way, I'm so sorry, but I can't remember your name.
WIR: *Look of shock* Huh?! You can't remember my name?
Me: Yes. I'm so sorry...what is it again?
WIR: I'm XXXXX
Me: Oh, ya ya. That's right, now I remember...

What do you expect la woman? I got introduced to you once where you subsequently proceeded to buat tak tau to me. You want me to remember your name after that? Strange though that she seems to remember me pretty well. Hmmmmmm.....

It's amazing what a good table and a couple of bottles, and a bit of clout where we APPEAR to be people with some status can do eh? I emphasize onthe word appear because the truth is none of my "crew" are big shots. We're just regular people who happen to be regular customers and know the manager well besides being related to the DJ.

Maybe it wasn't that...it could have been my dashing good looks, charming demeanour and razor sharp sense of style.

But if that were true, I'll be expecting to wake up tomorrow to the sight of pigs in Armani suits and Ferragamo shoes flying over the sky whilst dropping wads of money all over the place.