9/28/19. Sometimes the letdown is already there. And no matter what you do it's hard to shake back…read morefrom that. And other times, there are instances that shoulder that letdown, and still get knocked back further for a few more yards for an even greater loss. And that's what happened here on my first, and probably last visit to this establishment. Allow me to explain.
My buddy and I were set. We were going to see The Who in Dallas (three hours away) on the night in question. Yes, that The Who. We had our tickets for months, and then late the night before the show, legendary lead singer Roger Daltrey fell ill, and the show was postponed. We were lost. We had our permission slips signed and we were ready to go! The Who, baby! In Big D.! And now, we had a night off and no plans. What to do? What to do?
My buddy forwarded me information about this gig here. The Electric Park, out of North Carolina. This venue exclusively promotes electronica, EDM, techno, you know whatever they're calling it these days. You know what I'm talking about. I'm cool with whatever. I'm down. Let's do this. I've been wanting to check this place out anyway. I like and enjoy all types of music. This place is small, and also is a similar aluminum siding structure with its' live music venue parking lot-mate, Strange Brew (which I support fully, and also enjoy).
So, this is a smaller space here, but yet I still couldn't help envisioning dance clubs from the day, bodies everywhere. Pulsating to the heavy bass. Thumpthumpthump. (Yelling)-WHAT'S YOUR NAME??
Thumpthumpthump. (Her, yelling back in response)-WHAAAAT??
Thumpthumpthump (Yelling again)- I SAID, WHAT'S YOUR NAME?!?!?
Thumpthumpthump (Her, also again)-WHAAAAT??
I was excited. I really was. Okay, so no Who in Dallas. They'll be back (I hope!) I'm ready now to get my rave on! Sure, why not?
And then we walk in. Get hit with a seven dollar service charge at the door. And as that payment was being transacted for entry (this is around 10pm). I can't help but notice the sheer lack of humanity within the confines here at this moment. $7. For this? Yes, it's a small interior, and no, there aren't very many people here. If it wasn't for the tubthumping coming from the dj booth, we might have actually heard crickets instead. And were it not for the year-round humidity, we might have actually been knocked over by a metaphorical tumbleweed! This place was dead. This place made the Dead Sea look positively alive! Oh, there were some people there milling about. It was a rather odd assortment of people at that. Estimated ranging of ages anywhere from early twenties to early sixties by my own guesstimation. I know, right? Strange. There were some pretty ladies there in a small group huddled in front of the bar, but they all seemed to be regulars. No throngs of people gyrating to the beats. No sweaty masses. Nope. Just a few people here and about. Just standing around. Like a middle school dance and every bit as awkward. Zero energy in the room here. My regret, and my remorse, from plunking down seven bucks to just walk into this place, was providing its' own energy, albeit a very negative one. And this brings us to the final blow. The cost of the drinks here. Ruh-diculous!! The cooler was out, apparently, so we ordered two Abita drafts, a Purple Haze, and an Andygator. $9!!! For two teeny-tiny Louisiana-brewed drafts!! Not bottles!!! Drafts in plastic cups!! Like, a twelve ounce draft in a plastic cup was $4.50!! C'mon, now! I tipped the bartender a buck, so now we're talking TEN BUCKS!! For 2 beers!! Two draft beers in plastic cups, Ten Bucks!! Nooooo thank you!! No thank you!! So, to total up this lackluster evening, $17 for 2 small draft beers. And an absolute non-scene! A waste of valuable time that I could have been doing anything, really anything, else. For me, a $5 cover, and $3 draft would've been far more agreeable. $11 versus $17. Maybe not a big deal to some, but for me, it was enough to cease operations on what was already a rather disappointing night.