Tgsk
Sunday, June 17, 2007
So I was lying in bed, laptop on tummy, mulling over which episode of Brittas Empire to re-re-re-watch online, when—
Pubey Boy: may ginagawa ka ba?
Milkmaid: wala. bakwet?
Pubey Boy: samahan mo naman ako o
Pubey Boy: i just need to go to this event
Pubey Boy: magpapakita lang ako
Milkmaid: now? where is this?
Pubey Boy: the event is in world trade center
Pubey Boy: it's a "rave"
Pubey Boy: i really really really don't wanna go
Milkmaid: then why go?
Pubey Boy: but i just need to tell my boss that i went
Pubey Boy: i just need my name crossed off their guestlist
Pubey Boy: we'll just go in and then out
Milkmaid: fine.
Milkmaid: but we're only going to show up and then leave.
Pubey Boy: YES
Pubey Boy: for the love of God
And thus, I found myself on my way to my first—and last—rave. In fact, I wasn’t even exposed to the real deal since Pubey kept his promise, limiting the experience to a mere twenty minutes. We also got there early, so the place wasn’t packed yet, and just a smattering of people was starting to do that bopping motion they consider dancing. (And only a fraction wielded glow sticks, harumph.). But I suppose I witnessed the most basic elements of this particular phenomenon of the Upper Society Saturday Night, at the very least. Allow me to do a checklist.
[×] girls in flimsy halters, hot pants, I-will-puncture-the-earth-with-each-step-I-take heels, body glitter, and too much foundation (Happy Foundation Day!!!)
[×] guys in tight polos, mirrored shades, gold chains, and who basically spent more time grooming themselves that night than I had ever spent in the past 21 years
[×] VIP platforms with couches, makeshift bars, fat rich guys, and the cream of the skank crop for the previous to fuck later on at dawn
[×] everyone sizing everyone else up, sporting that “I’m the hot shit and you are sooooo not” look
[×] one endless tgsk tgsk tgsk tgsk tgsk tgsk tgsk beat c/o Mister Dee-Jay
[×] thick, criss-crossing laser light
[×] a sense of impending debauchery
We left before the chaos, before the pills started making the rounds, before that fraction of Manila society morphed into the not-so-elegantly wasted, bopping throng I see in films like Go. But it was worth it to have seen the warm-up. And Pubey was an excellent tour guide, explaining the spectacles with the somberness of a National Geographic voice-over (if you look behind you, you shall see a gaggle of “putachings” priming themselves for a drug-addled spell of intercourse with the herd of corpulent “dee-oh-ehms” grunting in the background *oooooh* *aaaaah* *click* *click*).
Being in that sparkly, sinister bubble, however briefly, was a fascinating experience, but no matter how infectious the whole brouhaha tried to will itself to be, I won’t ever be able to take it seriously. Pubey even asked me on the way home if there was a chance I could be the type to frequent these things, had my past been altered a bit a few years ago. I told him, with great certainty, that there still wasn’t, that I’d be inherently allergic to them. That, and I’d look like a moron in hot pants.
posted by marguerite @ 1:16 AM
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