As many of my faithful readers know, I hate, the 80's. Hate, hate, hate, hate. I hate the clothes, hate the music, hate the culture, hate the hair. I hate everything about them. So, naturally, where did I find myself last Saturday night? One of those big 80's dance parties in the city.

See, I just wanted a nice night out in the hood. A little Mexican food, a little margarita pitchers, a little more drinks. But my friend had other plans. She wanted to go to an 80's party. So to an 80's party my two friends and I went. And oh, what an 80's party it was.

She had thought like it was going to be your oh-so-typical 80's party that are out there these days, khaki clad Marina kids doing the robot to "Come on Eileen" or "Hungry Like the Wolf." This, however, was definitely not a Banana Republic event, this was for the serious, hard-core 80's aficionados. We're talking goth kids in black, fauhawks and makeup, dyed hair and bondage gear. This party was more 80's than the 80's, like all of those movies back then that showed this totally decadent, gothed-out hipster scene that really never existed back then, or at least didn't to those of us stuck in areas where people actually considered Phil Collins to be an art rocker.

Now the good thing about the dance party was that they didn't play the same fifteen 80's songs over and over again and instead played mainly import & obscure 20 minute dance remixes of Depeche Mode songs. The bad news, however, is that they played mainly import & obscure twenty minute dance remixes of Depeche Mode songs. One of my friends told me sometime that night that she graduated in the 90's and felt that nothing was going on culturally in the 90's. Which was kind of interesting to me, someone who graduated in the 80's, mainly because one of the little mentioned things that resulted in the wake of "Nevermind" was what it did to "alternative" music. Before Nirvana, alternative music, or at least the kind that was played mainly on stations like Live 105, were mainly fey British bands with lots of synthesizers and a David Bowie jones. After Nirvana made it, all the fey British bands were gone from the radio, replaced by long-haired, flannel wearing stoners with a Black Sabbath jones. Goodbye Tears for Fears, hello Soundgarden. Three guesses as to where my musical taste lies.

Now what to say about the crowd. First off, several months ago Savage Love got in trouble for saying that most goth girls are, well, on the big side. Let's just say that I now know why he said that. But mainly it was a little weird in that here I was, somebody who actually was from that time going to a club filled of people who were mainly in Elementary School during that time trying to dress up like people used to when I was in High School. It must be like what an ex-hippie feels like whenever he's walking around Haight Street or Santa Cruz. It mainly felt, however, that everyone was playing a part, a role in a "Less Than Zero" movie they all want to be living in their head. And I, slightly older, dressed up in a grey sweater and somewhat nice shoes, was Andrew Macarthy.

Finally, after an hour or so, my friends had had enough and wanted to leave. Well, one did, the other one wasn't feeling so well. I don't know whether or not they're wanting to leave had anything to do with them getting approached by some guy dressed up like a reject from a Frankie Goes to Hollywood with thigh-high bondage boots asking the both of them if they wanted to go home with him and his plump leather-clad wife from some swinging action.