The Lost Art of Clubbing
My idea of a good time involves tequila and a scratchy DJ board. The speakers are screaming, the sound wrapping around me and moving inward. My bones vibrate and I’m grinning at my friends illuminated by the flashing fluorescents. We dance and drink and get kinda weird, and then some loser NPC takes out their phone.
Damn screenagers.
Image courtesy: Pinterest
I’ll be the first to admit it: I have a phone addiction. I love that thing. But at the ripe age of 20, I can say with absolute certainty that it owns me. I’m not alone in this — that tiny metal box rules our lives, and we are slaves to the world within. The instant gratification loop has spun us into a web of likes, comments and social feedback from faceless Internet profiles.
Novelty grabs attention, and the drunken darkness of the club is the perfect breeding ground for some truly funky behavior. We all have pictures of our friends acting up, or of some rando’s questionable outfit. (Well, at least I do. Am I just an asshole?) These pictures circulate through groupchats and private stories, sometimes moving up the food chain to go viral on Barstool. And the truth is, they’re really fucking funny.
Image courtesy: Pinterest
But here’s the thing: No matter where we go, no matter what we do, there’s a very real chance it will be permanently documented. Gone are the days where you can be a Midtown Menace without fearing photographic evidence.
On one hand, it means you can get a play-by-play of the nights you don’t quite remember. On the other, it also means that your freshman slip-n-slide down the JJ’s stairs is now forever memorialized and will likely be made into a sticker for your sign night.
Clubbing is meant to be a cathartic experience. Wild, unhinged, and not marred by memory. It’s meant to be mythical, something discussed from a hungover living room, fuzzy details elevating the evening to the stuff of legend. In my own humble opinion, the club should not be photographed. The pregame, sure. But the club? That is sacred ground.
Image courtesy: Pinterest
The truth is, there’s no real way for my dream of a phoneless night to become a reality – I mean, how else will we track our friends when they disappear with that one talking stage everyone hates? In all honesty, I don’t have a solution to this very niche problem that I made up in my head. (Shocking, I know).
Perhaps the answer lies in a simple realization…. We could just get off of our phones. This is a lot, I know. I’m sorry I asked. But seriously, you’re not going to die if you turn on DND at the pre. If you trust yourself, you could even leave your phone at home. That way, even if you do get really rowdy, you won’t even have proof. Hangxiety, begone!
Strike Out,
Writer: Hailey Indigo
Editor: Olivia Hansen
Hailey Indigo is a Copywriter for Strike Magazine GNV. She’s passionate about budget travel, Free People and bringing back 2015 boho. She enjoys experimenting with her sourdough starter (Kennedy), forcing people to take personality tests, and psychoanalyzing people at the bar. Slide into her dms @haileyindigo.
