Full House, Fuller Pool
The buzz around Poolapalooza had been building for a while, and I’m not the kind of person who ignores good information. Melissa's project. A pool. A lineup with awesome DJ’s that makes it impossible to not show up.
Melissa made sure I had tickets for both nights. Except I had also told Roux I would be at NITE. Roux runs the kind of event everyone says they are going to but half of them don't get into. I was not concerned about this. I am on lists. My team handles doors. There is a system, and the system works.
The bouncer at NITE had not been briefed on the system.
”Full,” he said “the club is full.”
I want you to sit with that sentence for a moment, because I had to. I am a reasonable person. The first rejection landed and I acknowledged it the way I acknowledge most inconveniences, which is to say I did not. I had made a commitment to Roux, and I take commitments seriously. So I tried again. Different angle. Same answer. I tried a back entrance. I called people inside. Someone suggested a window situation, which I explored with more enthusiasm than I will be admitting to publicly. The club was full.
I want to say I handled this with grace and moved on immediately. I did not. There was a period. But there was also a pool, and Melissa, and two full nights of exactly the kind of beautiful chaos I am very good at standing in the middle of with a camera. The dark corners. The movements. The sounds that find you before you find them. Conversations I started with people whose names I got and outfits I photographed and occasionally, candidly, the lack of outfit altogether.
I've had worse weekends. I've had worse weekends trying to get into places that did let me in.
The pictures will tell you the rest. They always do.
Click them for a larger resolution and save.
This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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