At the DJ booth, Digital Boy is getting things off on the right foot. Already I am completely thrown; with the nightclub closed and the action centered around the lounge, I was expecting the music to be mellow, but Digital Boy (aka Luca Pretolesi) is spinning anything but lounge. Taken straight from the dance floor at about 2 a.m., his beats are catchy, foreign and divinely refreshing.
The doorman was right; we made it just in time for a nice round on the house. Though the lounge is already fairly populated and the dining room still quite full, the crowd is just now starting to file in, as evidenced by the host who comes by to collect the stools on which we are perched. But he assuages my momentary pout by pointing out that on Tuesdays, the lounge is ours for the taking. He gestures to one of the best VIP booth areas in the joint, which, happily, is vacant!
A percussionist with a huge animal-skin drum around his neck moves from table to table, grin beaming under his knit cap as he bangs away fiercely in time with the heavy beats. I'm told later by another DJ that he finds any drumming way distracting when he's trying to mix, but that he always concedes as it pleases the crowd. I hear no complaints about the little drummer boy the rest of the night.
By 12:35 a.m. the music has switched to more recognizable house hits. It's also right about the time that most are adding Rounds 2 and 3 onto their bar tab. With DJ Morningstar behind the decks—all 6-feet-plus of him—I am suddenly popping up and bouncing in my seat. "Ooh, ooh, this is Track 5 on Zee's MySpace page!" I'm referring, of course, to the mistress of (the) house, VIP host Zee Zandi at Jet, whose MySpace page has often been my companion when I travel or work late.
By the bar, all attention is on one guy and one girl. They bow and present themselves, then taunt the other just a bit with some preemptive moves before their impassioned dance battle officially begins. Their friends keep score with hoots and hollers as the two go move for move, employing every body part imaginable as well as a few you might not have considered. Even the column behind them sees a little action.
Easing back into my very free seat and looking around the bustling lounge, I find it hard to believe the holidays—let alone New Year's Eve—are just days away. Says DJ Sien just before he goes on, at about 1:45, "It's only gonna get harder from here," but he's talking about the music. I pick up a gin and tonic for my guest and another Citron and soda for myself to, you know, ease the pain.
Just before 2:30 a.m., a new chap enters, his arms and legs swinging in time to the music. He struts as if channeling John Travolta and I can just hear The Bee Gees ringing in my ears along with Sien's tunes. "Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman's man, no time to talk." From the breadth of his smile I would say he's having some night. This is my favorite guessing game.
Either he's meeting a hot date, he's just finished his holiday shopping or he just scored the last case of something sparkling and fabulous for his infamous annual New Year's Eve bash. The crowd parts for him, even the dancing pods of women and the men who cavort around the outskirts like dolphins accompanying a ship into port. I lose sight of him, the DJ plays on, and I turn back to my own sparkling and fabulous night.