Guys wearing Abercrombie freak with girls in XOXO, huge athletes mack on blondes in bright red halter tops, and somewhere by the bar there is a set of twins in schoolgirl outfits that may or may not have been hired for the evening. We felt like Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing, stumbling upon an entire sub-culture of naughty dancing and cheap clothing.
The place is Who's On First, and the kids are the type who watch MTV's Spring Break religiously, re-creating the sense of no-holds-barred sex, sweat, and beer just minutes from Landsdowne. And they do this every weekend.
Perhaps I'm being a bit melodramatic; perhaps the transportation disaster that preceded our arrival at the bar romanticized our first impressions. Suffice it to say that upon our entrance - fashionably late at 1 a.m. - the party was still going strong and would continue to do so for the next hour, until we closed the place down.
Granted, we only witnessed the end of the evening, the culmination of hours of drinking and a week spent in anticipation of Saturday night out. But you've got to wonder what could possibly lead up to a scene like this, where the room buzzes with sexual energy and everything is so... sticky. It felt like living in a world of network television only to suddenly discover cable. Maybe it's a good thing we only spent an hour in the bar - there was a serious risk of sensory overload.
Deep breath. Let's start from the beginning: the line to get in. Yes, at 1 a.m., there was still a line to get in the door, so you'll want to bring your winter coat. Later, you can ditch the jacket at the coat check since you'll need both hands for dancing, and you'll get very, very hot. Rumors of a $12 cover had been circulating throughout the evening, so when we discovered that the price for an eye-opening evening of hip-hop and techno was a mere $5, we willingly offered up our wrists to receive the green band of acceptance.
And man, oh man, what $5 will buy you! Drinks are fairly priced and made strong. The staff at Who's On First knows who comes to the bar, and why. On Saturday nights, it's mostly students looking to drink and hook up... and young ones. When it's 18+ and no one at the bar is checking wrist bands, you're sure to find the overzealous underagers who, though painful to talk to and dance with, do wonders for the energy level.
You'll notice two things upon descending the flight of stairs into oblivion: the dance floor and the bar. You'll notice these two things because they're the only things in the room. If you're not dancing, you're drinking, and if you're not drinking chances are you won't be dancing any time soon. You could try to do both, but as I said before, you'll probably want both hands free, whether it's to fend off would-be suitors or to flaunt your... assets.
The music is loud enough so that you won't have to be bothered with conversation or thought. From techno to house to rap to hip-hop, everything is danceable and... loud. And no introductions are necessary - choose a good-looking partner and start freaking. They'll respond, I guarantee it. If you feel uncomfortable with that route, try recruiting a friend.
And who knew people could get that low to the ground? Is it legal to do that in public? Do those two know each other? The dancing here is something else - whereas usually guys need only step foot on the dance floor to get in the mix, at Who's On First, they dance just as well if not better than the girls.
I'm embarrassed to admit that, though I thought I was doing an okay job of assimilating, I was approached by one Northeasterner and "taught" how to dance. From the basics - we're talking "one, two, one, two." The faithful rhythm once so successful at frat parties (do they even exist anymore?) and places like The Kells and Jose MacIntyre's failed me when I needed it most, and evidently I looked in need of some private tutoring. When the Shaggy turned to techno and my tutor told me to "Act like you're on E, ya know?" I decided to leave the jumping around to him and use my newfound skills on another partner. And another partner was readily had, thanks to the girl:guy ratio, which was severely in favor of the fairer sex.
Blinded by flashing colored lights, deafened by a gigantic sound system, and crushed by gyrating bodies, I decided I'd been missing something key in my college experience: the hardcore party.
Who's On First is in a class all to itself. It's completely sketchy, and rather than creating false pretenses to conceal the fact that a Saturday night is all about drinking and hooking up, this bar flaunts it, encourages it, pressures its patrons to perform. These are the people who study socializing instead of Sociology, herpes instead of History, and the Language of Love instead of English. And, on a Saturday night, no one really cares if you can discuss politics and recite formulas. All they really want to know is, do you wanna dance?
Who's On First 19 Yawkey Way, Boston (247-3353). The Traveling Lush Says: Not for the timid, leave your inhibitions at the door.
