Thursday, July 4, 2013
Day 9? Maybe?
Last night, my roommates and I wanted to go to Flo Nightclub. We were pumped up, looking smashing, and ready for a great night. We called a taxi, which cost a good €20, so it wasn’t cheap by any means. Prepared for a fabulous night, we descended the steps to the bouncer, where he spoke a string of Italian, naturally. Seeing the vacant looks on our faces, he quickly realized we must speak English. He then asked our age, which are in our early twenties, but he was quick to throw out there was an age limit of twenty-five to enter because of an event. He recommended we try Blanco because that would “fit our ages more”. Bewildered, we glanced at each other and inquired the reasoning behind this. He shrugged us off, and we just stood there confused and aggravated. We begrudgingly retraced our steps and complained for awhile until we decided it was no good to do so and decided to try this Blanco place the bouncer referred us to. We called another taxi, expecting a five-minute ride to this club like the bouncer had said, but made it there another €20 later.
The place looked nice: the decor was chic, the lights vibrant, and the outdoor arrangement of moderate size. We walked up to the entry and found no fellow partiers there and more strict security. Admission wasn’t even free. It turns out, there was a beauty pageant happening for another twenty minutes. We asked to use the bathroom, and truthfully, it was all we wanted at that point because our night was sour so far. After several minutes, the bouncer finally allowed us in, and we were able to relieve ourselves. We were forced to wait until the fashion show was over, but that didn’t look like it would happen anytime soon, so we sat on some couches bored. While I was still in the bathroom, the attractive DJ apparently was also fed up with the wait and socialized with some of the girls on the couch. When I arrived, they told me of this interaction, and I was intrigued. He returned shortly and beckoned us to follow him. Our night was beginning to look up.
We went to the bar and ordered drinks (Tequila sunrise, please!). The bartender caught my eye with his fashionable hair and tattooed arms. This was going to be a good night. My drink was tastefully strong, with the flavors all dancing around my mouth as I sipped it. After watching the remainder of the fashion show - Miss Toscana? - we were ready to get down. The DJ arranged for us to have our own table and a free champagne bottle. I’m sure we would’ve had a much different experience had we stayed at Flo. This was the life.
I was feeling fabulous after finishing my first drink and was ready for my second after letting the first absorb into my bloodstream. People were beginning to arrive, and the beats left us swaying more than contentedly. I missed going out, and it definitely felt great after our first week of school. Unfortunately, I had to stumble to the bathroom every ten minutes, but otherwise, it was a great night.
A bit of drama ensued after the club was shutting down, and some of the girls wanted to ride home with the DJ. Two roommates and myself let them go because we were just watching out for our own safety. We are in another country, after all. Luckily, a free shuttle was available, but it took several minutes of waiting in a chilly drizzle for it to arrive. The bus dropped us off at the Arno so we could walk the rest of the way home; I love that Florence is a walking city. If the U.S. was like that, we probably wouldn't have so many drunk driving accidents or obesity problems. Drunkies and fatties - what a proud country.
More to come!