2008 Woodie Awards
You Honk We Drink
Repub through the eyes of a professional observer
Frank Lancaster
Issue date: 5/10/06 Section: Quite Frankly
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When we last left our noble narrator, he had been made privy to knowledge of abasement to Re-Pub. We join our amicable author as he ponders whether or not to follow the white rabbit to his lair.
11:05 p.m. I decided, in the name of science, to venture into the depths of this subterranean site of sinfulness. I can only imagine how many people have fallen down these steps in the history of Re-Pub. It was difficult to navigate these stairs sober in regular shoes, much less drunkenly in the amazingly thin heels the women wear. Luckily, the carpet was obviously designed to be sticky so as to give shoes an extra grip and provide more solid footing.
11:10 p.m. Upon penetrating the downstairs, the first thing I was confronted with was the stale smell of years of sweat and pheromones which has permeated every object. The next shock to the senses was the sound of a hundred people talking at once but none clearly audible while music that would have had Plato spinning in his grave was played at a level conducive only to dry humping. The DJ's speakers certainly go up to 11.
11:13 p.m. The density of people was reminiscent of the slave ships of the 18th century. It is a mystery why this occurs. Why would people choose to be put into such an awkward position where there is almost constant physical contact? After a while the physical space between people disappeared and all that was left was the color of flesh in a blurry labyrinth of debauchery. The nightly bacchanalia was in full swing. Then I found the dance floor.
11:20 p.m. It took seven minutes to navigate my way to the dance floor where the "dancing" taking place was little more than a clothed orgy. I stared, condemningly, at what can only be described as the kind of actions that would make baby Jesus cry. I had to have a closer look.
11:30 p.m. Trying to project a semblance of rhythm, I attempted to gain the attraction of the other dancers on the floor. Fortunately, an attractive young woman took pity and slowly made her way over to me. To my surprise, without saying a word, she turned around and invited me to dance behind her.
11:05 p.m. I decided, in the name of science, to venture into the depths of this subterranean site of sinfulness. I can only imagine how many people have fallen down these steps in the history of Re-Pub. It was difficult to navigate these stairs sober in regular shoes, much less drunkenly in the amazingly thin heels the women wear. Luckily, the carpet was obviously designed to be sticky so as to give shoes an extra grip and provide more solid footing.
11:10 p.m. Upon penetrating the downstairs, the first thing I was confronted with was the stale smell of years of sweat and pheromones which has permeated every object. The next shock to the senses was the sound of a hundred people talking at once but none clearly audible while music that would have had Plato spinning in his grave was played at a level conducive only to dry humping. The DJ's speakers certainly go up to 11.
11:13 p.m. The density of people was reminiscent of the slave ships of the 18th century. It is a mystery why this occurs. Why would people choose to be put into such an awkward position where there is almost constant physical contact? After a while the physical space between people disappeared and all that was left was the color of flesh in a blurry labyrinth of debauchery. The nightly bacchanalia was in full swing. Then I found the dance floor.
11:20 p.m. It took seven minutes to navigate my way to the dance floor where the "dancing" taking place was little more than a clothed orgy. I stared, condemningly, at what can only be described as the kind of actions that would make baby Jesus cry. I had to have a closer look.
11:30 p.m. Trying to project a semblance of rhythm, I attempted to gain the attraction of the other dancers on the floor. Fortunately, an attractive young woman took pity and slowly made her way over to me. To my surprise, without saying a word, she turned around and invited me to dance behind her.
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