I don't know about you, but once I hit 30 it became a chore to drag my butt out to a club. Actually, if I'm being honest, it was a chore to get me out drinking and dancing all the way through my 20s. American clubs are such meat markets. At least the ones that I went to in college in L.A. and Vegas, and as a young adult in the San Francisco Bay Area. Boo! I have better things to do that don't involve a $20 cover and sleazy men reminding me to Smile! and groping me as I attempt to pass by and get to the Ladies Room, which is packed to overflowing with girls on god only knows what, wearing next to nothing, applying another coat of lipstick to reestablish the hooker look. It was fun a few times pre-25 and then, it got old. And so did I. At the ripe old age of 33 now, I refuse to do the club scene anymore Stateside. Outside of The States is another story altogether though. Strangely more tolerable. Enjoyable even.Your comments on this image are welcome, and encouraged! And a question for the photographers - Alex-Skywalker and b_juhasz - if they so inclined: Is there anything special about this moment, day, trip, or place beyond what you've shared on Flickr that you'd like to add or comment on here? Along with other vivaca visitors, I would love to know more!
Location: Spain ★
Photo courtesy of Alex-Skywalker
Location: Paris, France ★
Photo courtesy of b_juhasz
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