Revival

Sometimes I think that I forget how much I like to go out. Part of me wants to crave this adult sophistication that makes me too good for going out and drinking with the uni kids, but you know what? I like it. On occasion, of course. But still. What I don't like, however, is New Zealand's music choice in said bars. The crew (haha, I have a crew again!) went to this one bar first, where there were two guys with guitars rocking out to Sweet Child of Mine. Alright, that's just awesome. But then followed that up with La Bamba. What? I mean, sure I like La Bamba. Who doesn't? But kids in the bar freaked out with giddy hysteria at the mere opening chords of La Bamba. Bars are also known to play the Grease soundtrack to the again giddy stampede toward the dance floor. Really? I mean, really?

Perhaps I am used the stereotypical bar scene of the States. Most music played is ghetto booty music. Its intention is to give young, usually single people the opportunity to drunkenly rub themselves on each other in an attempt at mating. It isn't quality music... "It's Gettin' Hot in Herr" was never commended on its deep and meaningful lyrics. It did the trick though. The alternative to this kind of music is the scene where no one dances, so the music is meant to be "good drinkin' music." While my experience has been tainted by the odd southern white trash pocket that found itself into northwestern Indiana, these songs tend to be the classic rock songs or sappy, nostalgic country music. The only real reason to have this music on is so everyone can say, "Oh, I love this song!" and also avoid the pressure that would be a bar that had no music in the background.

I am comfortable in this surrounding. I am not comfortable with grown men jumping up from their barstools to sing "I Will Survive" along with the rest of the bar patrons. On the other hand, it's a great time for me to sit on the sidelines and gently shake my head with a bemused smile on my face. And for that, it has redeemed itself.