Now it can be told.
First off, for those who've never heard the term (or at least those who hadn't until I used it in a past blog), clubslutting is the act/art of going out to a club or clubs multiple times a week, every week, to the point of being a regular. By that, I mean security doesn't even check your ID, the bartenders have your drinks ready and keep 'em coming all night without even worrying about money, the DJ's give you promos automatically and people you never would otherwise associate with can't get through the night without seeing you. That, my dear readers, is clubslutting.
And yes, back in the day, I was a hardcore clubslutter.
I used to live in Yardley, PA. After graduating college, I moved in with my then-girlfriend and various roommates. I could go on and on about how big of a mistake THAT was, but perhaps that will be another blog on another day. For now, it's all about Zadar's. That was the club in New Hope, downtown on Route 32 next to the Bucks County Playhouse, right on the Delaware River and in sight of the bridge over into Lambertville, NJ, that I called home when it came to my nightlife. It was an easy drive straight down the road that I could drive with my eyes closed, and it was where I would park myself every week on Friday and Saturday and Sunday, not to mention Thursday when they opened for that night too after awhile. The beer was cheap, the drinks were plentiful and the music was damn sweet. When you weren't in the mood for $1.50 bottles of Coors Light or whatever, you could spend a buck and get Jello shots or cherry bombs, which were three cherries that were soaked in vodka. Of course, there was the obligatory shot girl too, for when you didn't care what you gulped down as long as it was the color teal.
Now, the DJ was Chas, who was a nice guy and a great DJ who also worked Club Egypt in Philadelphia. He more or less became the resident DJ there after some time, which took out some of the more pure dance music in favor of more mainstream stuff, like Prince's "Kiss" or Biggie's "Mo Money Mo Problems" every week. Still, though, the floor was always moving. Oh, and there was also the Liquid Lounge, where another DJ spun 70's and 80's, and my favorite gay bartender John supplied me with lots of beer, and also where I had my first (and last) cigar.
Zadar was my first club. When I turned 21, I went with a slew of college friends, and had a blast. I tried other clubs over time but this was the one I loved, and I was glad to become a resident clubslutter. Over the years, I'd go with friends, girlfriends, co-workers or even occasionally just by myself, because I had my regular crew there to mingle with anyway. And of course, on occasion I'd see a hottie and just mingle with her and/or her friends. I actually never hooked up with someone I'd met there, and that was truthfully by design because most people there I enjoyed the company of in that environment, but didn't think I'd want to know outside of that world unless I already knew him/her/them.
So with all of this clubslutting, you might wonder what my favorite tales of that time are. Well, you lucky bastards, I just happen to have such a list. Here are my Top 5 Favorite Zadar Clubslutting Experiences.
5 - The redhead
I don't remember her name, but she was quite a character. She had a group, and I had a group, and our groups became friends. She would have gone home with me if I wasn't living with the girlfriend already. I would have gladly taken her home despite knowing I would want her gone about two hours later. I could only take her one night a week at best in the club. She was pretty clingy. The thing is, she was fucking HOT.
4 - The hot bartender with the huge Cookies
I don't remember her name either (some memory I have, eh?), but she was in her 40's, supernice, and ridiculous endowed. And since she was a bartender, she made sure we all saw those puppies so the tips and the flirting would be plentiful. She had a bodybuilder boyfriend so no one would fuck with her, but she was always the first bartender I'd hit up when I got there.
3 - Cotton Eye Joe
There was one night in particular when I was there with a bunch of college friends, and the DJ (not Chas, this was before his run there) put together a fucking unbelievable mix that didn't stop for 20+ minutes, and the dance floor was busting open from the overflow. I wound up in the center with a couple of friends, and the mix started with that "Cotton Eye Joe" song by Rednex (the song Yankee Stadium plays when they bring in a new pitcher...time to update the playlist there, Bronx!) and ultimately ended with it too. Amy, my friend (not the girlfriend, this was a college buddy) and I looked at each other as this was going on and both remarked at the same time how awesome this mix was. It was one of the best times I ever had on a dance floor.
2 - John the gay bartender
John was fantastic. I don't care about who's gay or straight or bi or sleeping with kitchen appliances or whatever, and John and I would talk freely about anything and everything. It was fun because John would drink too, and we bought each other shots all the time. One night we were so plastered that I actually was offered to come home and hang out with him and his playmate, and for a few seconds I was so hammered that I actually considered it. Fortunately, my wits stayed about me, but for that one moment at 25 years of age I almost jumped the fence. I hope John's doing well for himself though, to this day he's my favorite bartender anywhere ever.
1 - New Year's Eve 1997
HOOOOOOOO, Lordy. This was a wild one. This was almost ten years ago now, and to this day I haven't gotten this drunk. We did pay for this one, it was $50 or whatever for the all-night open bar, food, champagne at midnight and all that. I went with my girlfriend and someone else, can't remember who. It was fucking fantastic. But man, I got fucking beyond blitzed. I must have had a dozen beers, several shots, and then fucking champagne at midnight, and I don't even know how many of those I had. That was all well and good. Going home was another matter. My girlfriend was OK to drive so she drove my car home. I didn't make it home though. About halfway home, from the backseat comes these words from yours truly into the darkness of the car:
"Pull over."
Amy pulled over, and I stumbled out of the car and puked my shoes off right over some poor guy's fence into his backyard. Thank goodness it was 2:30AM. After that, they helped me back to the car, we got home, I passed out on the couch.
Oh, it gets better though. I woke up the next morning with a ridiculous headache. I rolled over onto my back and fell asleep. Now for those who know me well enough, the fact that I did this should make the Daily News, because I absolutely NEVER fall asleep on my back. So I fell asleep, woke up several hours later and felt absolutely fantastic. No headache, no hangover. All was well.
Well, not quite. I got my pants a little messed up, so I threw them into the laundry and washed them. Then I took them out for the dryer...
...and realized I left my wallet in the pocket.
The money, my cards, everything was soaked. The money dried later that evening into crispy but OK shape. The cards took a little longer. I swear, two weeks later I would take out my MAC card and it would still be stuck to another card.
But anyway...there you have my favorite clubslutting memories from Club Zadar in New Hope. The club is gone now, a victim of mismanagement and spending more money than they were taking in. I don't really do the clubs much anymore either, but I can honestly say those memories of my clubslutting days still make me smile over ten years later. I still love the music, but I just can't see myself in the center of the dance floor at age 34...LOL...perhaps that's a good thing.
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