Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Take A Chance On Me
Chapter Two: Take It Off
“There's a place downtown, Where the freaks all come around. It's a hole in the wall. It's a dirty free for all. There's a place I know If you're looking for a show. Where they go hardcore And there's glitter on the floor.” Ke$ha
Harper had convinced me I needed to go out to celebrate my first day of work. She did what she always did and twisted everything I said before I realized she made me say I wanted to go, a few profanities later I was in my bedroom trying on clothes to go out to a club. For me, it was going to be a celebration, but for Harper she had to work first, then celebrate. Harper was a photographer for a local music magazine and she had to shoot some band that was performing in the club that night. There was one perk that made me really want to go though – free drinks and VIP passes for the entire night. Life was good when it was free.
I slipped on a pair of metallic silver leggings and a black one sleeved tunic and black ballet slippers – I had learned my lessons of wearing heels to clubs. As cute as they were, I couldn’t last more then 20 minutes in them. Harper emerged from her bedroom looking, as always, completely put together. Her caramel brown hair was straightened and perfectly styled to look like she didn’t care, her makeup was club ready, and her outfit (which consisted of a long yellow and black striped tank top and skinny jeans and flats like myself) and of course, her nails matched right down to the shade of yellow. “Let’s get this shit on the road, babe!” she said with a grin – she really liked her job.
We took the train over a couple of stops and then walked to the club – no need to waste gas when we were both wearing flats – when the conversation came up, abruptly, about the guy that I had met earlier that day. “So,” Harper said, “did you get his digits?”
“No,” I said quickly, “I told you, we didn’t trade numbers, I was late. I doubt I’ll ever see him again anyways, I mean it is a big city, I never see the same people! Minus you, as much as I try…”
“Shut up,” Harper said and then punched me in the arm, “Have I mentioned how stupid you are for that by the way? I mean, really! It’s like a fucking romantic movie set up. Seriously, Addy, use your head!”
“Let’s drop it,” I said, “what band are we seeing again?”
Harper grimaced at me as we neared the club, she sighed, knowing she would just have to pester me later, and nodded her head, “Sometimes I feel like you don’t listen to me,” she said.
“I don’t.. well… about thirty percent of the time all I hear is the teacher from the old Charlie Brown movies… you know? Moomph moomph moomph…” I trailed off once she began to give me the death glare.
“Anyways,” she said continuing, “We’re seeing a couple of bands. Forever the Sickest Kids, Cobra Starship, and Panic! At The Disco.”
“Don’t recognize the names.” I stated quickly.
“Well you wouldn’t,” Harper said, “It’s regular people music. Not all of us can stand to listen to Tchaikovsky and Rachma-whatever all day.”
“Rachmaninoff,” I said correcting her, “And I do listen to normal people music… occasionally… when you make me… And I do like stuff on the radio, I just don’t go out of my way to listen to it.”
“Seriously, Addy, how are we friends?” Harper asked jokingly. This was a question we continuously asked each other and no answer could be found except ‘that if we weren’t friends we would be committed in an asylum somewhere’. So we stayed friends… some how.
We got to the door and bypassed the line like we were somebodies instead of the intern level nobodies we were. The bouncer, a very large man aptly named ‘Big Mike’ handed us our VIP passes and let us in.
“Wanna come with?” Harper asked me as she gestured to the roped off security area. Only a handful of people were allowed there – all media. I declined, not really caring for the bands much and just really wanting to drink. I walked up to the VIP lounge and felt like a baller for getting through with no problems. It was much quieter in the lounge – you could still hear the music but it was filtered through glass walls - my perfect area.
I walked up to the bar and smiled, “Can I get a whiskey sour?” I asked and the bartender nodded, slightly surprised that I had ordered the drink of an eighty year old man. I grabbed the glass in my hand and walked towards one of the windowed walls. I spotted Harper in the pit taking pictures of some oddly costumed band which I assumed was ‘Panic! At the Disco’ based on the drapes on the stage. My head nodded with the music, upbeat and catchy – though as a musician myself I was bored with the continuous repetition of the same chords over, and over, and over, and over again. I distracted myself by staring at the different members of the band, until I got to the guitarist. My heart threatened to stop dead in its tracks when I recognized the face that looked over the crowd, “Well shit…”
“There's a place downtown, Where the freaks all come around. It's a hole in the wall. It's a dirty free for all. There's a place I know If you're looking for a show. Where they go hardcore And there's glitter on the floor.” Ke$ha
Harper had convinced me I needed to go out to celebrate my first day of work. She did what she always did and twisted everything I said before I realized she made me say I wanted to go, a few profanities later I was in my bedroom trying on clothes to go out to a club. For me, it was going to be a celebration, but for Harper she had to work first, then celebrate. Harper was a photographer for a local music magazine and she had to shoot some band that was performing in the club that night. There was one perk that made me really want to go though – free drinks and VIP passes for the entire night. Life was good when it was free.
I slipped on a pair of metallic silver leggings and a black one sleeved tunic and black ballet slippers – I had learned my lessons of wearing heels to clubs. As cute as they were, I couldn’t last more then 20 minutes in them. Harper emerged from her bedroom looking, as always, completely put together. Her caramel brown hair was straightened and perfectly styled to look like she didn’t care, her makeup was club ready, and her outfit (which consisted of a long yellow and black striped tank top and skinny jeans and flats like myself) and of course, her nails matched right down to the shade of yellow. “Let’s get this shit on the road, babe!” she said with a grin – she really liked her job.
We took the train over a couple of stops and then walked to the club – no need to waste gas when we were both wearing flats – when the conversation came up, abruptly, about the guy that I had met earlier that day. “So,” Harper said, “did you get his digits?”
“No,” I said quickly, “I told you, we didn’t trade numbers, I was late. I doubt I’ll ever see him again anyways, I mean it is a big city, I never see the same people! Minus you, as much as I try…”
“Shut up,” Harper said and then punched me in the arm, “Have I mentioned how stupid you are for that by the way? I mean, really! It’s like a fucking romantic movie set up. Seriously, Addy, use your head!”
“Let’s drop it,” I said, “what band are we seeing again?”
Harper grimaced at me as we neared the club, she sighed, knowing she would just have to pester me later, and nodded her head, “Sometimes I feel like you don’t listen to me,” she said.
“I don’t.. well… about thirty percent of the time all I hear is the teacher from the old Charlie Brown movies… you know? Moomph moomph moomph…” I trailed off once she began to give me the death glare.
“Anyways,” she said continuing, “We’re seeing a couple of bands. Forever the Sickest Kids, Cobra Starship, and Panic! At The Disco.”
“Don’t recognize the names.” I stated quickly.
“Well you wouldn’t,” Harper said, “It’s regular people music. Not all of us can stand to listen to Tchaikovsky and Rachma-whatever all day.”
“Rachmaninoff,” I said correcting her, “And I do listen to normal people music… occasionally… when you make me… And I do like stuff on the radio, I just don’t go out of my way to listen to it.”
“Seriously, Addy, how are we friends?” Harper asked jokingly. This was a question we continuously asked each other and no answer could be found except ‘that if we weren’t friends we would be committed in an asylum somewhere’. So we stayed friends… some how.
We got to the door and bypassed the line like we were somebodies instead of the intern level nobodies we were. The bouncer, a very large man aptly named ‘Big Mike’ handed us our VIP passes and let us in.
“Wanna come with?” Harper asked me as she gestured to the roped off security area. Only a handful of people were allowed there – all media. I declined, not really caring for the bands much and just really wanting to drink. I walked up to the VIP lounge and felt like a baller for getting through with no problems. It was much quieter in the lounge – you could still hear the music but it was filtered through glass walls - my perfect area.
I walked up to the bar and smiled, “Can I get a whiskey sour?” I asked and the bartender nodded, slightly surprised that I had ordered the drink of an eighty year old man. I grabbed the glass in my hand and walked towards one of the windowed walls. I spotted Harper in the pit taking pictures of some oddly costumed band which I assumed was ‘Panic! At the Disco’ based on the drapes on the stage. My head nodded with the music, upbeat and catchy – though as a musician myself I was bored with the continuous repetition of the same chords over, and over, and over, and over again. I distracted myself by staring at the different members of the band, until I got to the guitarist. My heart threatened to stop dead in its tracks when I recognized the face that looked over the crowd, “Well shit…”
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