Remember that hottie from high school that you totally pined over? They might have been the captain of the baseball team or cheerleading squad and they were hoooot. Hot and unavailable.

You know you wanted them.

So years after high school, when you got your chance in college to go on a date with them, you were psyched. Beyond psyched. You were doing the “happy dance” in the shower and daydreaming how perfect you’d be together.

Then you went on the date and found that they were the most vapid, insecure and annoying person you had ever met; and you wondered what the heck the hype was in high school.

That was how I felt about Billy Dec’s night club Underground.

Oh, there’s more…click below to read on.

A few months ago I met Billy Dec and some of his Rockit Ranch Productions team and thought they were really sweet. And they are. So sweet in fact that they got me on the “list” and encouraged me to come to Underground (I don’t know if getting on the “list” is hard or not, but they got me on it either way).

I was psyched. I was beyond psyched. I was doing the “happy dance” in the shower and daydreaming of how perfect the club would be. In my daydream I envisioned a really cool setting with a huge dance floor and cute girls and boys getting down. I assumed the crowd would be rather young (early to mid 20s and some late 20-year-olds); hip but not hipster; and the music would be hoppin’. Of course, I expected it to be ultra-glam and energetic. But like with that old high school hottie, I was let down.

First, there was no dance floor. And no dance floor meant no one was really dancing. Grinding in the corner? Yes. Dancing? No.

The most dancing going on was on the televisions. They played this continual loop of advertisements for the club intermixed with clips of hot women in cleavage-bearing blouses being groped by gross guys.

There were two other girls dancing, but I don’t really know if you can call it that. One girl fell to the ground at one point while performing a dramatic spin, and I believe that dance move is called: The Sloppy Drunk Shuffle.

I tried dancing (despite the circumstances) but the music was awful and the available space quickly filled up with 30-somethings either fighting to get to the bar or just standing around idly waiting for something to wake the club up.

That gets us to the people who came to Underground. You can put a collared shirt on a “dude” but that doesn’t make him a gentleman (or anything that resembles one). Gentlemen were no where to be found at Underground. The men that came in small groups were doing that creepy, “I’m going to stand by the bar and stare at the women from afar” kinda thing and the guys who came with women were generally older. I am talking in their 40s or 50s.

The women were dressed in typical club wear: 4-inch heels; mini-dresses; cleavage bearing shirts and bad attitudes. They “danced” (read: wiggled) in small groups of two or three, spilled their apple martinis on each other and stared down other women who came in.

The bartenders looked bored. The club goers looked bored. The only people who didn’t look bored was Billy Dec and his crew, who rolled in around midnight, all in baseball hats, and gave hugs to a bunch of people.

Yeah, the place looked cool. It looked like a fall out bunker. And yes, I am sure if you were to shell out money for bottle service and bring 10 of your best friends then it is a lot of fun. But then again, having a bottle of vodka and your buds at your side would make even your Grandpa’s 89th birthday party fun. Going VIP doesn’t count.

And neither does getting drunk. You should not have to get drunk to enjoy a place, though I desperately tried at Underground after disappointment started to set in.

A good club should include a friendly, energetic staff (putting on a mixing show, Cocktails-style is always welcome); have a dance floor big enough to accomodate 40% of the attendees; blast good music with a clever twist (I always enjoy a refreshing remix); and attract people who are there to have fun…not people who are just trying to “be seen”.

Underground sorely lacked any of the above, and was just like the guy I dated in college (who I adored in high school): Shallow, boring and self-absorbed.

Dev xx

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