Baraca
StopSpot got displaced tonight. Another crew (“Baraca”?) was playing at the old Rawhide. The DJ was set up at the end of the first room, which was a very refreshing change (usually the DJ is in the middle — on the long side of the dance area).
I started talking to this guy I’ve seen there several times before, but never talked to. Just another bloke, hanging out and waiting for more people to show up. Patrick is a really cool guy from Canada, whose wife Geneva was dressed in a baby blue faux fur coat. She was excruciatingly cute and they both bore that Mentos-ad-like Canadian ambience. They rocked.
The DJ started spinning some deep house, which modulated into trance after some time. I was having a good time, handfluting sometimes, singing sometimes, and just cutting the rug the rest of the time. Sylvia (was that her name?), dancing by herself in the corner, distracted my attention. She was just cute and kept smiling at me and swaying in my rhythm.
By 2, the Canadians were asking about other places to dance into the larger hours of the morning, but I was ready for a quick bite at Lyon’s and my new bed.