They're Probably Popping X Anyway

In recent past, I've lamblasted Saint Louis for how ghetto (I'm hearing that Busta and Rick James' song in my head right now) it is with the females with the tattoos on the titties and the red hair.

Today, though, I'm going to take a shot at my own city, Bourgeois City, er, Kansas City. So a good friend who was in town and I decided to hit up the young club scene last night in the City.

After partaking in some home-furnished libation, we proceeded to our first destination, this hotspot called NV (pronounced envy), which is downtown off about 7th and Grand. NV's a swank spot with a few levels with different music on each one.

I've been there twice before, and enjoyed my time there. I've also waited in line for an hour outside that club listening to the music bumping, and watching more people walk out than in only to realize when we finally get in that there aren't that many people inside. Not fun.

After finding a parking spot, we got in the line, which was moving surprisingly fast. We ran into a couple of my high school classmates, Ev and The Rocket (a baseball nickname), of mine. They were walking away after being denied entry because, well, their polo shirts were "too baggy."

It really wasn't the case, but I just thought to myself, there's no way "I get denied because I'm knotted up" meaning I was wearing a dress shirt, a tie and a sweater vest (one of my favorite looks).

I got to the door, and I heard the host (really a hostess) whisper into the bouncer's ear "she's fine (talking about my friend), but those jeans are too baggy (talking about my jeans)."

He was talking about my Ralph Lauren jeans that were cuffed because they were too long. I started to open my mouth, but before I could, my guest blurted out her in her own disgust.

"So you won't let him in unless you can see his balls through his pants?" she queried. "You want to see his balls."

I was speechless. I was about to ask them to find the dude I knew who did promotions for the club. But at that point, it was just time to roll out.

So we headed toward Blonde, another swank spot down on the Plaza. We got to the front of the line quickly, but found a similar problem. They were only letting in people "who were on the list."

They weren't checking the list, but they were letting people in. After a wait, we left in disgust. It was cool because I was very tipsy. But I still want to be in the club, not on the outside.

In Saint Louis, at least you can get in the club without worries. At least you can be around your people without extreme drama, no matter if there are tattoos on the titties and what not. I just know it'll be a while before I hit the swank scene in KC anytime soon.

Those bitches can suck on my chocolate salty balls.