Horse Meat Disco: I could have danced all night…
…and I did, more or less!
This past weekend in DC was MAL — Mid-Atlantic Leather — and while I didn’t partake in any of the sponsored events, or even visit the host hotel, I was definitely down for some dancing. It was a three-day weekend, after all!
Even better after I got word that Horse Meat Disco would be in town at a “secret” TBA location. A location which I then confirmed was in Northeast near Union Market. Having DJs for friends, both real and virtual, really pays off.
I am a huge fan of Horse Meat Disco, I don’t know where my love of Disco music really comes from. I didn’t really grow up with it, but I do love to dance and unless you just don’t like dancing, it’s hard to really hate Disco. Though, I guess not for lack of trying for some.
Cross off "Headed to MAL/leather warehouse dance party in the middle of near nowhere at 1 til 4:30 am." from my #2017 list. pic.twitter.com/wLiBzZwENj
— Brian Gray (aka ürb) (@urbanbohemian) January 15, 2017
So I geared up — yes also literally — and got ready to do something I haven’t done in probably at least a decade: head to an event on my own, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere (relatively, since I live in Northwest) and dance my ass off until the wee hours of the morning.
It’s not exactly a “you had to be there” thing, but it’s hard to describe beyond the basics. A warehouse party, similar to a rave, a single disco ball and some “stage lighting” and just DJs at their decks while the entire place was packed sweaty body to sweaty body with men and women. There were harnesses and jockstraps, there was leather, there were riding crops, there was a puppy play mask. There was a bit of everything.
Accoutrements aside, it was like coming home to my glory days of clubbing. One thing I miss in DC with the loss of so many gay venues and the gay-borhood is that there are less places to dance nowadays. And the places that one can dance, so many people don’t… tons of either wall-huggers, or people taking up space on the dancefloor chatting or checking their phones.
I haven’t made a joke about being “internet famous” in a while, but after getting there and getting my bearings and getting over not having anyone to really dance with, I pressed my way through the crowd towards the front so I could finally see the guys with my own eyes. I’m dancing and lip syncing/singing away for a bit and Luke Howard makes eye contact, leans forward and says (shouts) “Is your name Brian? Are you on Twitter?” So, y’know, sometimes chasing waterfalls does pay off. I’m not an unofficial member or anything, but to be recognized by Luke and James, even as some hopefully-not-appearing-too-obsessed fan with half-decent tweets is good enough for me.
So after 3 or so hours of disco, gospel and some good George Michael tracks, I was sweaty and exhausted and also wired — turns out having water instead of alcohol to dance all night was the better idea. Even though I declined the offer of a few other “energy-enhancing” substances throughout the night. Thank Uber for getting me there and getting me home and after a few hours of sleep, I was up and ready to head out the next evening!
I’m hoping to take my old ass out dancing a lot more in 2017, it just feels good and it makes me happy. 
