March 9th - Chinese Dance Club

Most people who know me are aware that I don't usually go in for dance clubs. Last night, Mother-In-Law's driver wanted to take my wife and I out for dinner and drinks, followed by a visit to this place called Baby Face. We went to a familiar place for dinner – I'd been there before, when we came back from Sanya. Now listen to this: After we had all finished eating, everyone was sitting around chattin, and since I can't take part in that business, I was sittin around drinkin. I must have had 6 or 7 quarts of beer, when our waiter came in with another guy who worked in the restaurant. He pointed at me and made a gesture with his hands, like he was measuring something. Everyone laughed and started looking at me.

I asked my wife what was happening, and she told me that the waiter remembered me from the last time because I'm such a boozebag. He showed everyone how much hooch I drank at dinner last time. I'm not sure if I've described the moonshine they drink over here, but imagine you've just filled your glass with turpentine, lit it on fire, and downed the whole glass. It gives you a nice, excrutiating feeling down in your gutiwuts.

Now that I was primed, well-oiled, and a little bit buzzed, we got in a taxi and headed out for a night on the town. Our gang was made up of: My wife, her niece, the company driver, his wife, their 9-year-old daughter, and myself. Yes, that's right, the dude brought his little girl along to the club. Now, there are 2 views on this situation. The first: “I wish my parents were that cool!” And the 2nd: “Are you sure it's okay? What will that do to the kid?” Apparently it's more common than you would think, because the club had lots of kid-friendly items on their menu – ice cream sundaes, fresh fruit, popcorn, candy, and lots of juice. Looking around though, I see lots of underage girls, maybe in the 15-18 age bracket, who these items would probably appeal to as well. Nice business strategy! Our little partier just sat there with her mom, munching away on ice cream and goodies, looking content as could be.

Now for the adult refreshments. They have a unique way of getting you drunk at this place. To start with, you choose a 40 ouncer of any booze you want (we chose the finest cognac – or rather the driver chose it.), then the waitress comes by and pours a few shots into a large pitcher of ice. She then fills it up with ice tea, and slob's your uncle. I couldn't even taste the booze in it, but I was assured that it was indeed “strong tea” by the others. I had a few dozen glasses of the stuff, and then I started to feel tealightful.

Now for the music – at first it was just your average club music. It's funny, the last time I went to a club was probably a couple of years ago, and the music hasn't changed, aside from substituting the old Justin Timberlake and Black Eyed Peas songs with the new ones. There was some hip hop, r&b, and you know, some other music that you'd hear on the radio. They were playing it pretty safe. My wife told me that there was going to be some sort of “show” later. I didn't know what to expect, but I saw 2 stripper poles at either end of the club. The dancers came out, assumed their “positions” at the poles, but they didn't strip. They just danced sort of nonchalantly, like they didn't really want to be there. I got the idea that they aren't paid very well to do this. Nobody was waving singles at them, so they weren't showing the goods. Fair trade. No money, no honey.

We stayed for a while longer, and eventually my wife and her niece convinced me to dance. Actually, they had some help from a Mr Cognac. I think he and I make a pretty good dance partner. I told my wife that, in order to help her out, I would make a fool of myself on the dance floor so people wouldn't look at her and judge her moves. She said she was feeling a bit rusty, so I decided to create the spectacle. I busted out several of my old classics – the lawnmower, the grocery shopper, biker daddy, the smoker, and when the strobe light kicked in, I busted out the “oops, my shoe is untied.”

And now, I would like to share with you my new move. I'm not sure if I invented this, but if nobody else lays claim to it, the blog will be proof that I am the inventor of “The Flower Petal”. Yes, that's right, the flower petal. You can act it out in a number of ways, but I usually like to start by a) digging a hole; b) planting a seed; c) watering it; d)waiting patiently, looking at watch, etc and then, the piece de resistance; e) crouch down really low and gradually get taller and taller, ending with my hands opened underneath my face, revealing the flower that is me. I'm not sure if I can draw a picture for you, ut my hands would look something like this:

@
V

Imagine my face is the At symbol and the V would be my two hands. Other variations of this move could include the ice cream cone (get someone to lick the top of your head), the Venus flytrap (bite people, or just chomp at them if you are vegetarian), and the Home Alone Kid (everybody knows this one). It's okay, I will allow you to use this move if you want. I'm not greedy when it comes to boogeying down. I say, if you have a boogie, share it with a friend. My instructional DVDs will be available soon, but only in fine stores that sell pirated videos including non-licensed music and copyrighted materials. This means, it will only be released in China, and possibly the Phillipines, if I can find a mule to sneak them into the country for me.

So my friends, if you have a chance to visit a club when you are in China, I can recommend a good one right here in Harbin. It's called baby face, and the manager is a pretty cool guy. He came up, shook my hand, gave me his card and yelled something into my ear. I'm not sure what he said, but I heard every word. It's that kind of dedication that brings customers back time and time again. Heck, I know where I'll be going next time I want to bust out an ice cream cone, Venus Flytrap or Flower Petal. Boogey on!