Admission: A Fist Pump
Where: Pacha, Hell’s Kitchen
Who: Justin, Jon, Myself
If you have ever been to Pacha and thoroughly enjoyed yourself then you should probably stop reading here.
“Come to Pacha,” Justin encouraged me.
Having worked in a night club for years, being over busy with work and only trying to new things for the sake of this blog/my sanity, I have become less of a “club” person and more of a “sit at home and eat bad food” person. A fact that I have no qualms with, but friends tend to think otherwise.
So not too long ago I decided to venture out and see the now infamous night club, Pacha, an offshoot of the famous club in Ibiza. With the likes of Snooki and the Kardashians recently attending I was apprehensive about what I was getting myself into.
Upon entering the club with Justin and Jon I found myself immersed in a stampede of hundreds of people bumping their way like ping pong balls around the room to get to the bar, the dance floor or the bathroom. Many of these drunk wonders would be referred to by Manhattanites as ‘bridge and tunnel’ or ‘strong islanders.’ Something I was assured does not always happen. More frequently, the club attracts hardcore music lovers that praise unity through music rather than unity through hair gel.
Spanning two floors Pacha is a large night club in Hell’s Kitchen that attracts famous DJs (Cosmic Gate, Bob Sinclair, etc.) and other celebrities alike. The dance floor, located on the lower level, can be viewed from the second floor, probably your best bet if you dislike being charged into repeatedly.
The music was a mix of trance and techno with a top 40 remix thrown in every so often. I found myself on the dance floor in a sea of fist pumping, lights flashing, dirty grinding, glove show mania that could only be subdued by the drink in my hand.
One girl took it upon herself to pin me against a wall while she danced (read: rubbed up against me) in front of me. Slightly scared by her lack of coherence due to the drugs she was on I searched around for someone to save me. When she finally turned her back to me I frantically texted Justin for a rescue, of which he gladly obliged.
After this I realized I had to throw away all of the things I usually found fun and fist pump with the best of them while dancing with no one in particular. (The trick I learned for fist pumping is to start low and bring it up slow…in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation.)
I called it a night at 1:30 AM, early by Pacha standards since you can stay well past 4 AM. And while this did not turn me into a ‘club kid’ it did make me appreciate the fist pumping, hair blown out, strobe light flashing action that I got to be a part of.
1) First big time NYC night club
2) Uncomfortable being assaulted by that many people
3) That fist pumping can be fun…if you don’t take yourself seriously