When it's Prince vs Madonna, everybody wins
Though my first reaction to being invited to the P v. M party was to wince and flash back to 1987 when my sister would repeatedly play her "Like a Virgin" cassette single until my ears bled, I ended up going because I was in the mood for something unpredictable that night. And I hadn't been part of a cheesy musical rivalry since The Princess and I rented out a karaoke room in Japan last spring.
We met up with our friends Josh, Baby Bien, Shiftless Badger, British Guy, and DC Katastrophe at the Common Share, where we downed $2 beers and made fun of our parents' outgoing messages. Katastrophe's Spidey sense began to tingle after she gulped three straight girly drinks so we quickly chugged our pints and made our way to the Black Cat where, despite Katastrophe’s premonitions, there was no line and plenty of tickets. We hung out in the Red Room for a while, taking shots, playing Donkey Kong and Burgertime on the two-player arcade, and watching DC’s hipster doofuses interact among humans. Sufficiently lubricated, we hopped on upstairs and got the party started.
The main floor was empty when we got there but Josh and Katastrophe took care of that problem by skipping out to the dance floor and motivating the wallflowers to do the same. They shared space with a guy dressed all in white who not only danced like Prince, but must have thought he WAS Prince.He kicked his legs and gyrated to “1999”, and spun random people around. Everyone was in a good mood and having fun and we started to wonder what other dance parties would make for good rivalries. Pearl Jam vs. Nirvana? Debbie Gibson vs. Tiffany? Yanni vs. John Tesh?* Actually, I would pay good money to see that one.
We eventually nestled by the front stage as a large crowd filled in and pressed against us. British Guy, visiting from, well, England, and I stood on the stage and led the crowd in waving their hands to "Like a Prayer" before some burly security guy ran at us and knocked us to the floor. We danced, we smoked, we took photos. The night was long and the music thumped in our heads. Josh danced with a transvestite and Baby Bien flirted with a meth girl who HAD to have had a really good fake ID to get into the club. Some guy stroked The Princess' arm but disappeared into the mob before I could kick his ass.
At 2am we headed to Ben's Chili Bowl only to find it was closed. So we descended on a pizza place across the street for some really raunchy big floppies. The night ended and I went to sleep with "Little Red Corvette" in my head.
*Copyright, Baby Bien 2006