My friend is in town from Sudan. Doing great work out there for the greater good. He sleeps in tents and rides in $50,000 Range Rovers days on end.
It is nice to see him because we still are very much immature individuals at the age of 28. We decided to go out one night to celebrate his arrival, and from the likes and influences of our primitive ancestors, we decide to just not think when it comes to engaging in leisurely activities. But we made that connection and picked up an LA Weekly at 12 midnight. Through hours of browsing the singles section first we found an after-hours night club in Downtown Los Angeles and headed towards there.
Talking about the ‘Gates of Hell,’ Club 740 was definitely constructed by Lucifer himself. Girls squatting in the middle of the street to urinate, male machismo in direct effect, and people stumbling out the front door looking like they’ve been doing lines on the public urinal all night.
Basically we couldn’t get into the club because there was a dress code and I’ve been wearing the same clothes since my Yosemite, Lake Tahoe and Frisco trip from a month ago (I washed it once and it doesn’t smell because you can get this thing called Febreeze that you can spray onto fabrics to deodorize it).
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