It's 11 p.m., I'm in my pajamas and just settling down for some quality Entrepreneurship class reading, when my roommate, Liz, calls me and demands that I go to Sky Lounge in Federal Hill as the designated driver, even though I've got a half-sprained ankle that's pretty much useless on a dance floor. But I get dressed anyway and we pick up Lianne. We set off, underaged and completely broke.
Sky Lounge is no doubt trendy, with pretty lights, two bars and a dance floor upstairs. There are little maroon, cube-shaped cushions that dot the entire lounge area, and they serve delicious tapas (trendy appetizers) until 10 p.m., which is when the DJ and dance floor start up. Apparently we don't look dangerous enough to get carded by the bouncer, and tonight they're not charging cover either. That's two problems we don't have to worry about.
The bar is crowded, and as the drinking ensues, one man shines the hanging lamps on the bartender, who looks crazy with his wide eyes and long biker beard. All of the staff are wearing t-shirts from local businesses like Cafe Hon and City Paper, rather than any traditional uniform. Unlike other clubs, the feng shui of the room is geared toward the center of the dance floor rather than the DJ booth, which is just a small corner of the room. However, there is still a small group admiring the cute and slightly nerdy DJs as they lay down the fat beats that drive the atmosphere for both the dancers upstairs and the loungers downstairs.
The see-through dance floor lights up and people downstairs can notice random foot stomps and slides above them. At first, breakers and break-dancer wannabes take over the floor. The resident DJs lend their skills to everything from breakbeat to disco house, with the type of impressive transitions between genres that are the signs of a highly talented turntablist.
The average age of Sky-loungers seems to fall somewhere around 24 years old. There are some regular people that always go to this lounge, like Mike, a flamboyantly gay and enthusiastic dancer who skanks with everybody, and Pria, the little Indian girl who does the robot in hyperdrive. But dancing, as I soon discovered, is not the main reason to go to Sky Lounge.
It was then that I realized the point of trendy little clubs with small dance floors. Everybody in this club is hungry for action, and by the end of the night all of the dancing dissolved into the vices of randomly-formed drunken couples, with only a lone salsa-dancing pair still dedicated to the dance-floor cause. The atmosphere quickly took on a butcher's shop quality; if I wanted some after-hours company, all I had to do was point to a guy, and he would be mine for the rest of the night.
While the music was boppin', and I danced for a long time, even on my bad ankle, the make-out party is just not my scene. But for you Hopkins kids that are hungry for some tapas and good lovin' without needing a proper ID, this pretty little lounge in Federal Hill is definitely an option.
Just remember: when your parents are visiting the next morning, as one of my friends and fellow clubbers found out, don't take anyone home, and definitely call your friends after you disappear from the club!
