Chapter 3. Slam Dancing
The group squeezed their way down a long hallway, as they pushed through the crowd, guitars and keyboards in hand. Although they could easily make their way through the people, the heavy beats and vibrations of thumping feet kept them moving at a slow pace. Opening a pair of large black doors, they entered the main room, and stood dead in their tracks.
The club was dark and smoke filled, lit only by a few neon lights and spotlights aimed at the stage. The music was angry, pounding. A band thrashed on stage, screaming out razor sharp lyrics to acidic music. The dance floor was in violent upheaval, as faceless figures in black banged against each other in anger and rage. As they watched, a woman rushed onto the stage, then without hesitation, hurled herself into the sea of dark flailing bodies.
Rhonda grabbed Tony's jacket, and pulled herself in to his arms. "Tony, I don't like it here. I wanna leave."
Tony looked frightened himself, as if caught in a back alley knife fight with nothing but a ball point pen in his pocket.
"Man, I don't like this place, Tony. Why don't we just split?" Cyler was way past worried. At this point, he wondered what his friend was thinking for bringing them there, and if he had truly lost his mind.
The group turned to leave, but realized the crowd between them and the front exit would be more difficult to navigate through in the opposite direction. They would have to find another way out.
Cyler quickly realized that Tony was in over his head. "Look, man!" Cyler hit Tony on the back to get his attention, as he screamed over the loud music. He had to use his hands to reinforce his loud but inaudible words. "Why don't you guys just stand here! I'll find another way out! Okay? I'll be back!"
Although Cyler's single, tall, and thin body could squeeze through the crowds relatively easily, he was pushed side to side in between the thrashing dancers. In desperation, he headed towards a few doors near the back of the stage. He approached the doors, entered, and found himself in a long, dimly lit hall. He was unsure where he was, but at least there were only a few people back here. Released from the pounds and pressure of slamming bodies on the dance floor, at least he could walk normally.
Cyler made his way down the dark, smokey hall, past a few curious onlookers smoking what looked like hand rolled cigarettes and long ebony cigarette holders. Finally, he felt a cool pocket of air coming from the end of the hall. Through the smoke, he saw a staircase, an open door, and a few streetlights in the distance. Relieved that he had found an exit, he stopped quickly, and turned around to retrieve his friends.
In his haste to find an exit, Cyler had not noticed the woman following him through the crowds, and into the hallway. As he stopped and turned, their bodies crashed. Hard and violent, their bodies came together, like the scores of combat boots on the dance floor hit the floor.