Dancing on the Ceiling in B’More City
I picked SkyLounge out of the blue. Okay, out of CitySearch: Baltimore. Supposedly you could get one helluva martini there on a Sunday night. CitySearch was right.
We crept up in the place just after eleven pm. We almost couldn’t find it. SkyLounge was buried deep in Federal Hill, nestled in one of Baltimore’s Famous Alleys. (So, I don’t know if they are famous but if they aren’t they ought to be). I gotta tell you, we drove around the neighborhood scared at first, the way you are scared when you feel like you are lost in someone else’s hood and feel like you might stick out like a sore thumb, but when we did happen upon the bar, we were surprised. It was clean, neat, and almost empty. We sat down, ordered a drink, and stayed anyway. We soon found out that we were a little early. There wasn’t much happening. Or so it seemed. Just an eclectic bunch of folk sipping martinis.
We sat back into the cushions and tried to make chit chat among ourselves and act like were weren’t checking out the people. But you know we were. Just like they were checking us out. Only most of the people walked through where we were sitting near the bar and disappear into a hole in the corner. Huh. And they didn’t come back. Huh again.
We could hear muffled music but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I liked what I could hear. It was funky ala Paradise Garage. (If you have been there you know what I mean.) Then we noticed that we could see shadows through the ceiling. There were people dancing above us. From the shadows, it was obvious that all body parts were hitting the floor. We finished off our martinis and took our chances. We went through that hole in the wall too. And guess what, it wasn’t a hole, but a doorway that led to a stairwell. And at the top of that stairwell, was a room with a glass dance floor, booming with Baltimore House Music. And all sorts of folk throwing their inhibitions to the wind. No, I mean it. These folks were shaking some of everythang.
I was cool with it, I mean, there was a time I would be up in the Garage shaking some if my everythang too. But I was with women folk that have less New Yorker in them than I, so we turned around to go back down the steps. And we were stopped by Rerun. (Not his name but it fits). And you know I couldn’t run ‘cause I had on these baaaad shoes. But that’s a different blog…
“Where you going?”
“Back to the bar.” (I wanted to scream, unhand me you fiend. But I didn’t. I just looked at his hand on my arm.)
“But you haven’t seen me dance yet.”
I looked at BunBunni. She looked at me. We went back up stairs and sat with our backs to the wall.
Delivery played. And ReRun danced.
Now, I gotta tell you, I haven’t seen a big man shake like that since What’s Happening went out of Sydnication.
And the mortgage banker dropped it like it was hot. (And he was. Trust me when I tell you that the ladies were watching his backside. And his front side, too).
And then an Eminem lookalike spun on his head and slid across the floor on his skull.
A woman with a leopard print thong showing way too much danced with another woman (who didn’t dance she just pulled up her pants and just leaned back) while twirling a circus light around her body. (I think they took a wrong turn. Universoul Circus was in RandallsTown).
And then the OG took the floor. I wan informed that he had been in “IT” since the ‘80’s. We were mesmerized. Let’s just say school was in session.
I was almost ready to kick off my lavender Manolos and bust a few moves of my own (okay, so I wasn’t really going to take off my shoes).
Rerun danced a ballet for BunBunni.
Eminem humped the floor for our Peruvian friend
And then the mortgage banker took the floor again. He danced an ode to…my feet.
No, I’m serious.
He told me later that he was REALLY into feet. And shoes. And he liked mine.
FOR REAL THOUGH. He was a dancer, he said. And he could be eccentric. He was hoping to get engaged in August to a lady with nice feet. Was shopping for a ring.
I had to give him some advice before me and girls turned into pumpkins.
“No, Don’t get her a diamonair. Bad Move. What the hell is that anyway? If you must be different, get her a sapphire flanked by a diamond on either side. No artifical stones and NO KNOCK OFF KNOCK DOWN SHOES.”
“Huh?” He didn’t get it.
“Never mind.” I told him. “You shouldn’t buy her shoes anyway. She might use those shoes to walk out on you.”
He nodded. He still didn’t get it.
“Shoe wisdom. Don’t try to understand it. Just heed the advice.”
And my two friends and I walked out stiletto heeled selves right on out of there.
-SkyLounge is located at 1041 Marshall Street
You can catch Delivery on Sunday nights. Look for Rerun, Mortgage Banker, Emimen and OG. You’ll know who they are.