The saying “best club in Europe” gets thrown around a lot when you are traveling for a month. It seems that every city has the well known clubs with the huge covers, huge lines, and way to many other Americans.
Razzmatazz was supposed to be the anti-tourist spot during our time in Barcelona. An authentic Spanish night club loved by locals but not frequented by the endless sea of tourists that flock to Barcelona. While discussing plans we heard things like “3 separate DJ’s, Crazy rooftop bar, cheap drinks”. We went 0 for 3 in those categories. Spirits were high on the line as we were walking in because no one was speaking English. As we walked in a very eccentric DJ was on the main booth playing of all things a Miley Cyrus song (a guilty pleasure of mine when out) I thought of this as the best possible start. We figured lets do a lap around the whole place before we settled in the first room, because there should be 3 DJs… As we walked through the entire complex there were 0 DJ’s, and when we reached the rooftop section it was nothing more than a glorified smoking area with a halfway decent view.
At this point we are still good to go, I mean the first song was “Party in the USA”. It’s the forth of July, things are good. As we ordered our 9 Euro drinks (cheaper than the 10 Euro drinks from the night before) I had to laugh to myself, as I started to realize that the choice was not a wise one to leave the touristy bars that I love so much. As we hit the dance floor we realize the DJ is a maniac. He is rocking cut up skinny jeans, a tight tank top, a 5 o’clock shadow, and a perm. He had a Mac and a huge fan directly in front of him. His set would have made an amazing soundtrack for a 2006 chick flick, with hits from Katie Perry, Miley, and any other top 40 pop rock from the last 7-8 years.
The entire night he would pick a song from his seemingly female driven, yet impressive iTunes playlist, let the song play out as he danced in front of the fan that was next to his computer. He was clearly having the best time out of anyone in the club. His hair was blowing the entire night. After a few hours of nonsense, his dancing could no longer hold my astonishment and attention, and we had to try to get out of there. Luckily before we started leaving the club had a forth of July celebration, where a bunch of 18 year old Spanish people were dressed in American flags and the entire club sang the national anthem, all to a permed backup dancer…
Lessons from this night:
1) I will never, ever have a perm
2) Someday, I might be able to use my impeccable party playlists to make it to the big show
3) Not even a great Gin and Tonic can fix some nights.