January 18 – The Black Sheep Notre Dame sent its most socially inept writer to Club Fever, Michiana’s hottest nightclub. Griffin Collins, who has never been to “Feve” and cannot confirm whether he has touched a woman, went out into the field to find out what all the hype is really about. Also, he’s 21, so no one will get in legal trouble, you fuckin’ narcs.
Club Fever, known mostly as “Feve,” is the hottest club on Thursday nights for students to blow off a little steam. Since Feve is stereotyped as having a younger (read: underage) crowd, I thought about bringing my 12-year-old cousin to help me fit in better. In fact, I asked him, and he told me “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that shithole.” God knows who taught him that fucking language. So, last Thursday I escaped my study carrel in the basement of the math library and ventured out to lose my Feve-ginity.
I arrived at the club around 11:15 with my friend [name redacted to protect identity from feds]. The club’s entrance was in a back alley, like we were entering an underground casino instead of what might as well be Alumni’s off-campus house. The line was packed into a dense clump to insulate from the cold, akin to a bunch of scantily clad penguins. It took us about an hour, however, to actually get into the club as we stood in the 20-degree weather. Everyone was pushing to get into the club as quickly as possible, which only really packed the sweaty, drunk blob more densely. The wait wouldn’t have mattered, however, if it was worth it.
It wasn’t. Often I get somewhere and realize that “I’m not cool enough to be here.” This was one of those times. I had never gone to Feve because I figured it wasn’t really my scene, and for once I was 100% right. The club was filled with beautiful people dancing. I’m average at best, and dancing makes me anxious because when I went to a dance in middle school everyone made fun of me for waving my arms too much. Everyone was dressed in really nice clothes, expensive dresses and Vineyard Vines collared shirts, while I was wearing a flannel I bought on sale at Old Navy and a pair of flannel lined khakis I got for my birthday. (I like flannel, it’s great for hiding curves in places where there shouldn’t be curves.) But, regardless, I said fuck it, slammed a few jaeger bombs, and hit the floor.
I don’t dance, the music was too loud to talk to people, and the floor was crowded. Needless to say, I was very uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as I feel whenever a seminarian tries to pitch me a life in the cloth. I figured I would make the most of it and try to meet some people. I followed my friend [name redacted] as we linked up with some of his friends at the club. Most of his friends were girls, so I thought I would spit some game. It didn’t really work though, because they wanted to dance. With my wide feminine hips and arms too skinny for my body, they could tell I moved about as well as Father Jenkins shakes hands.
It was fun meeting some new people during one of the only nights in my life more awkward than Domerfest. We bounced around to a few groups, but I still couldn’t really find my vibe. Then the lights popped on. You know that meme where it’s a bunch of naked medieval people running away from each other and the caption is “Whenever the light comes on at the club”? I was really excited for the lights to come on, so I could see everything my friends and classmates were doing that would embarrass them when I brought it up the next day. But, ultimately, I was disappointed. Nothing crazy was happening, except I think I saw a fat guy belly dancing. Props to him, I guess.
I figured it was about my time to leave. My editor was supposed to come with me, so I could have a solid group of friends to hang out with. He went to Old Finnies instead. At about 1 I hit him up and he told me to come meet him. So I bailed on [name redacted] because I have no sense of loyalty, and met up with my editor. And I had an awesome time at Old Finnies. I had such a great time that when I got back to my dorm I puked so hard I popped a blood vessel in my eye. Overall, perfect night.
My review of Feve – not for me, but still a good time. Worth going at least once.
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