Calle Arenal: The Club Promoters' Lair

Party time is quite a big deal here in Madrid. While Americans scoop time out of their day to go sweat at the gym, madrileños reserve time to party. And if they are not the ones participating in the actual physical act of partying, they certainly do one hell of a job organizing parties. Bouncers, security guards, promoters, bartenders. They are the nighttime creatures that prowl until the morning hours. And prowl is the choice vernacular, as I learned last night. I walked out of the Sol metro stop yesterday evening around 10:30pm to a bustling Puerta del Sol. Although I am well aware of Madrid's late hours, part of me was nevertheless surprised to see so many people out and about. I met up with some friends and we commenced a stroll down Calle Arenal, in search of a cozy, cute café where we could pasar un rato* before the clock turned to zero (that means midnight, all of you AM/PM Americans) and the festivities really began.

Vividly recalling the chupitas adventure of 9/11, I attempted to steer clear of men standing in place holding cards and pamphlets in their hands. My attempts were in vain, because as soon as someone from our group did not manage to escape, more club promoters appeared out of the shadows. I am not exaggerating. They literally appeared out of nowhere and walked towards us, eager to shower us with offers and promotions. It was both hilarious and slightly creepy, because had they not been moving at their own pace and inflecting their voices, they would have been comparable to zombies. Club zombies on the hunt for females dressed for a good time: the horror movie event of the year.

Ok. So. After the café, a touch after midnight, we headed to Club Joy. Club Joy is sort of a big deal. People know about it. And after having been inside, I can see why. Although it is just a plain, stone building with a neon sign screaming the club's name on the outside, the inside is immaculate and plush. There are several levels, the top ones reserved for VIP attendees. The seats are black velvet cushioned couches. There are two bars. There is a screen at the front of the relatively big dance floor and lots of lights, strobe included. As it was student night at Club Joy, the place filled up rather fast, exceeding all appropriate capacities. The entire club--not just the dance floor-- was soon stuffed tighter than fish in a barrel. Talk about getting to know people well. There was no pocket of space to retreat to when accosted by, say, slightly creepy Italians, one of whom proceeded to give me my own personal disco dance, to "Saturday Night Fever", nonetheless! I thought of that lovely bar dance sequence in Airplane. Here it is, for your enjoyment (the Italians are pretty much the only interesting story from last night, anyway).

*to pass the time