Club

"So now what do I do?" I asked Good. "The training with Monk is over, but I'm still here."

Good sat back in his chair with his eyes closed. The wounds that he had when I entered the world had since healed. He drew in a breath, and sighed.

"You go do what you wish to do." He moaned.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Go learn." He smiled. "This is a whole new world for you. But you haven't had the time to explore it since you've gotten here. You are more at peace with yourself than you were when you arrived. Go see the world that you have created."

The world, or at least the house, had come into color. Good's side was painted with deep oranges and maroons, and accented with rich mahogany woods. His bookshelf was full of dense catalogs, some of which were about literature, or theory, or philosophy. And then there was his shelf; filled with trophies and medals and pictures. I turned to Bad's side of the house, and the walls were painted beige. Lighter colored woods filled its crown moldings and floor boards. The bookshelf, directly opposite from Good's was filled with novels. But there was no shelving unit on Bad's side. Instead, there was a single shelf, with a single blue candle. 

"Actually," Good spoke up, "I lied; don't explore."

"Sorry?" I replied.

"Don't explore;" he repeated, "I was supposed to give you a message."

"Okay?"

"I saw Host a little bit earlier, how about you go visit him?"

"Last time I saw him I went on a really bad trip."

"Last time you saw him, Anger was in charge."

I sighed, and Good looked up to meet me. He smiled, and rested his head back down.

"You know where to find him."

*   *   *   *   *

Host's house never changed. The trees in the front were wrapped in toilet paper, neon flyers thrown throughout the cul-de-sac, empty bottles dotted the lawn, and shards of broken glass covered the walkway. I opened the door, and saw Host at the far end of the house. I walked into the kitchen to meet him, and he was taking large, plastic bottles out of brown paper bags.

"Hey," he smiled, "what's new and exciting?"

"Not a whole lot." I replied, leaning on the counter. "Yourself?"

"Goin' out to the club tonight with a couple of buddies."

I looked between him, and the twenty bottles he had placed on the counter.

"You're not partying here?"

"Why would I?"

I motioned to the bottles.

"Oh no that's tomorrow!"

I laughed, and sat at one of the stools in front of the counter. Host entered the kitchen, and started to store the booze.

"So why go out if you could just stay here?"

"It's easier."

"Why?"

"You know," he started, "it's more fun. You know everyone there, you know the music, you know it'll be good, and you know what booze they offer. But to make that happen, you have to get the people over, make the playlists, and buy the booze. It's just easier to go out."

"Well I really wouldn't know."

"You don't go out that much?"

"What makes you say that?!" I shouted with a smile, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Well you should go out sometime." He said, returning to the fridge. "It's a good release."

"Clubbing really isn't my thing."

"How do you know that if you've never been?"

"Because I hate huge crowds of people I don't know, small spaces, loud music, and bright lights. So aren't all those things the defining characteristics of a club?"

"Yeah?" He hesitated. "Look, I get it. I used to be like that."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"No really, I used to." He assured, placing his hand on his chest. "But once all those things come together, they have a sort of sedative effect."

"Well let me throw this one at you."

"Shoot."

"Isn't the main point of going out to a club just to find someone to leave the club with?"

He stopped putting bottles in the fridge, closed the door, and placed his hands on the counter-top.

"Yes and no." He began. "There is this social ideology with the club atmosphere. And it's that it has a preordained destiny with being forever intertwined with the popular hook-up culture that dominates our society."

"I'm sorry?"

"What?" He asked.

"I didn't know your English skills were more insightful outside of teaching someone how to shotgun a beer."

"Funny." He continued. "Didn't you know I study philosophy in college?"

"You go to college?"

"Can I continue?" He laughed. "But yeah, everyone thinks that about going to a club."

"Are they wrong?"

"Of course not." He responded. "But that's, like, part of the deal. See, hooking up with someone isn't the point of going out for a night out, but it can be part of it. Once you walk into a door of a club, it separates your mind from your body; your mind no longer matters. All the things that were troubling you before you walked in get left behind at the door. The body is transformed into a vehicle of non-permanence and non-commitment."

"Explain?"

"You're not gonna go into a club, expecting your favorite music to be blasting, all the while drinking your favorite artisan stout. No, you're gonna go in there, expecting nothing but new experiences. New music, new dances, new dance partners, new drinks, and new lives to explore. See, everyone in the club is there for the same reason you are; to leave their troubles at the door, and have a brand-new experience, with a bunch of people who are trying to do the same thing."

"So why not just go home and relax?" I asked. "You can leave your life behind at the door?"

"Are you sure about that?" He asked. "What about if you're having marital problems? You live with that. What if you're a student? That job follows you no matter where you are in the world. What if you have a job? Those emails will haunt you. You can't just stay at home; you can't leave those troubles at the door. And even if you have none of those things wrong with your life, you still have to go do boring, 'everyday' things, like grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry. When you go to a club, you go on a journey. You have a new drink. You hear some new music. You meet a new friend. You reconnect with an old one. You go out and dance something new. And while it doesn't happen all the time, you could leave with a new person, and retreat into a sanctity of privacy with them."

There was a stark silence as he placed the remaining few bottles in the fridge. He looked down at his watch, and began to put his vest back on.

"I never would have thought that you would have been so insightful." I groaned, standing up and following him to the door.

"I know right?" He chortled. "No one does."

"So are you off to the club?" I asked, reaching the door.

"Absolutely." He chimed. "You should go sometime soon; see what I mean."

"I'll look into that." I grinned. He opened the door, and the light consumed me.