Last Night A DJ Saved My Life 

by Teresa Grimbos 

Judy Bloom references always make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.  After all, Ms. Bloom had a lot to do with my preteen popularity status when she imparted her wisdom on me to repeatedly chant “I must I must I must increase my bust”, placing me at the very top of my prepubescent male counterparts’ “best boobs” list. 

And so yes—I judged a dance party by its flyer.  Are you there God, it’s me-Dance Party happened at Tiger Bar—a cavernous little hole somewhat redeemed by amazon-themed wallpaper, but not so much by an awful locker room stench and unusually high temperature noticeable immediately upon entry into the bar.  But, an uncomfortable setting didn’t matter for the true dance lovers who were feeling the music.  The checkerboard dance floor was soon obscured by gyrating hips, flailing arms and, if you listened closely, you could hear a sing along or two (think koom-ba-ya with an electro pop back beat).

Lesbians, gays, their devoted hags, cute straight girls with a whole lotta’ inner gay, drunk straight girls and the rare straight boy with an unusual penchant for dancing (and perhaps a natural penchant for hags) swarmed and committed to the spacious dance floor, whilst others fled to the boring bar upstairs to cool off for most of the night.   

Adorable DJ, Chris Thinn, played a fair mix of both dance floor oddities and popular beats, including Beastie Boys, Neneh Cherry, New Order, Daft Punk, Beyoncé, Crystal Castles and Janet—Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty.  Even requests to play Madge were not met with an elitist response like with most DJs these days.  In fact, all requests were met with enthusiasm, and I am personally grateful that all Madonna songs were in their original form, untainted and pure.   

How refreshing to hit a party with a nice big dancefloor governed by a DJ who really loves to cater to his people.  Now that’s a proper dance party, if I may.