The Basement

"Damn it! I should have known," Luke groaned as soon as we reached our grand destination.

"What is it?" I asked. Luke had been talking about 'The Basement' incessantly for weeks now; about how popular it was, the cool design, the gorgeous women he had met there (to Marly's chagrin). What could have let him down?  I tried to peer around the back of the back of the line we just joined. It was dark and I couldn't see very much of it.

"The line is huge," my older sister Marly explained. "It'll take us hours just to get to the door."

"Couldn't we just go to another club?" I asked.

Marly shrugged. "What difference does it make? All the other clubs will be as packed as this one. It's a Friday night."

"Even the shit clubs?"

"Even the shit ones. Plus they have a whole bunch of druggies and underage yobos who think they're hot."

I raised my eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and stooped down to whisper in my ear. "Of course, we don't mean that you're a yobo. You're different."

She had that right.

Ten minutes later we were still waiting to get in. A light breeze was playing up, making goose bumps appear on my arms. I tried not to notice them. The line had moved maybe an inch. I could hear the thumping loud bass faintly through the walls; feel it vibrating the wheels of my chair. I could imagine the lurid colourful lights dancing over thriving bodies and off the weirdly futuristic furniture Luke described. I could taste some sort of sweet concoction on my tongue, even though I had no idea what alcoholic drinks tasted like. I wanted in.

"Excuse me," I said, trying to get the attention of the guy in front of me. I tugged at the bottom of his shirt and he spun around probably surprised that someone had grabbed him there. Well, I couldn't reach his shoulder. "Do you mind if I cut in front of you? I need to use the bathroom and it's getting too cold for my condition out here."
He looked like he was about to tell me to get lost but the words he was about to say were caught in his throat. He took in the metal frame of my chair and my sad dwindled legs. Then he nudged his friends and they quickly stepped aside.

"Come on guys," I muttered to Marly and Luke who were standing behind me with their mouths slightly open. They quickly caught up as I repeated the process throughout the line.  Some people looked just as surprised as that guy did. Others were more discreet; slightly shocked before putting on expressions of sympathy, probably wondering how I became a paraplegic in the first place. I hate those moments the most – I don't need your sympathy. I'm fine.

Finally we reached the bouncer, a gruff burly black man. His balding head was peppered grey. "IDs please."

Marly and Luke took theirs out and got waved through. Of course, they had nothing to worry about – they were actually of age. The one I had actually belonged to my friend Christie, whom everyone says looks like me. I don't think so. I mean, yeah, we both had frizzy brown hair and wear thick glasses. But she is tall, beanpole and skinny. She has a slender, freckled face. I have no freckles, thank goodness, but my face is... well, round. The bouncer looked at my ID rather closely. Was he looking at mine more carefully than Marly's and Luke's? Or was I being paranoid? My heart started to race and I squeezed the arms of my chair. He cast a suspicious look over me. I stopped myself from biting my lip.

He pulled me closer to him and said, "You're not Christie Anne, are you?"

My blood froze. I could feel my jaw drop. Was he going to call my parents?

"Please, she needs to use the bathroom, this is the nearest one around," Marly pleaded.

He looked at her, then me and stepped back. "Okay, you can go through."

Wait, whaaaat?

"Hey!" a guy behind us shouted. "You're only letting her through because she's disabled."

He must've been watching the whole thing. I felt my cheeks glow as I quickly wheeled myself through the door. There was that horrid term - 'disabled'. God damn it, I'm not disabled. Heck I'm freakin' more 'abled' than you are, jerk. I can actually get inside this club for starters.  

But what he said was true – the only reason I got in was because I was disabled. Oh well. I can't walk, so I may as well do something with my wheelchair.

"Crap," I said as soon as I saw the stairs heading down. No ramp. Just stairs.

"Well it is called, 'The Basement'." Luke shrugged. He gave me a look for permission and lifted me like a small child out of the chair while Marly folded up my chair and carried it down for me. Curse the stupid architect who designed this place. I thought the world was trying to increase awareness about people with disabilities – so effective that has been so far.

"Imagine if this club caught fire," I speculated conversationally. "There is no way I'd be able to get out of here is there?"

"Ha ha, don't worry, we'll look after you," Luke said, trying to console me. It didn't work – in fact it annoyed me. I don't want to have to rely on people.

"Besides, even if there was a ramp I doubt you'd be able to climb it. It'd be too steep," Marly stated as a matter of fact.

Finally we arrived inside 'The Basement'. Slightly different to what I imagined or seen on TV but all the main details were there – a bar crowded with people, a few funky pieces of furniture and a tiny dance floor that somehow managed to pack so many people. Music throbbed in my ears, pulsating through my system – soon I might be deaf too. It was mostly dark, with a few lights highlighting just what you needed to see. The light over the dance floor rotated rainbow colours. Luke put me back in my wheelchair. I hope his arms weren't sore from carrying me but if they were, he didn't show it. Marly and I made a bee-line for the toilets in case the bouncer checked on us.

As usual, there was a line hanging outside the girls' toilets. Good thing I wasn't busting. Soon enough I went in. Oh what do you know, they do cater for people like me here after all – there was the large cubicle with the little blue picture of a person in a wheelchair on it. On this occasion it was actually occupied. Heh, they have no ramp but they have toilets for us; that's funny.

Eventually the door opened. A girl walking on her two legs came out and saw me. I withheld a snort of laughter – she looked shocked, then guilty. The other girls waiting in line gave her the dirtiest look; although I'm sure if I weren't here they would have used that stall too. Marly and I exchanged glances and as soon as I wheeled myself into my cubicle I let myself giggle. Moments like these were priceless.

"Okay, what is it you ladies desire?" Luke shouted very gentlemanly over the music as soon as Marly and I came out of the toilets.

"Just gimme a beer," Marly yelled back.

"What about you?" Luke asked me.

"Um, I don't know. What is there?"

"Why don't we just get you a lemon and lime bitter? That's a good beginner drink," Marly suggested.

"Okay then. Oi! Here!" I reached over and tried to hand over my money to Luke, who backed away with his hands in the air. "Oh come on! Take it!"

"Don't worry about it Dana," he said and walked off to get the drinks.

Marly snorted. "Meh. Let him think he's a gentleman and get the drinks."

She wheeled me over to a table that was unoccupied but messy. Someone had spilled their drinks over it; the stuff reflected the rainbow lights.

"So, this is a club," Marly stated. "Everything you hoped and dreamed for?"

"Well, it's pretty much what I imagined," I said. "Although yelling while talking isn't an experience I quite like."

"Well, there are a few booths with tables over there." Marly pointed to a side of the club that kind of looked walled off. "But all the booths are taken. It's a Friday night! How do you like the music?"

Before then I hadn't really been listening to the music – it had just been a loud bass that rattled me from the inside and nothing much more. But now listening more carefully I could make out some of the other riffs and the electric sound. I couldn't recognise any of the songs being mixed up by the DJ yet but it was all right.

"Yeah, pretty good," I said.

Luke arrived with our drinks, splashing them on the table as he set them down. I snatched mine up and immediately.

Sweet, bitter lemony liquid burned down my throat. Ohhh! It was nice. I felt a warm flush appear on my cheeks.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Luke tried to carefully pry my glass away from me, without spilling it at the same time. "Easy! You have the whole night to chug this stuff! You don't want to pass out too early in."

I shrugged. "The way I see it is that you're going to have to carry me out of here anyway, so what difference does it make if I'm out of it?"

"Well your parents aren't gonna be happy campers for starters," Luke replied.

Damn it. I hate it when I can't come up with snappy comebacks. I rolled my eyes. "All right. Fine."

"Hey Dana do you recognise this song?" Marly yelled.

I sat there listening for a bit. Of course, with the DJ mixing up all the music, sometimes making it interesting, more often making it worse. It was hard to tell. Then I heard the lyrics.

"Hello hello baby you called I can't hear a thing…"

"Ooh! I love this song!" I practically screamed, bouncing up and down in excitement, seeing as I couldn't jump.

"You wanna dance?" Marly asked.

"Yup!" I said, setting down my drink for Luke to watch and wheeled out to the dance floor. However, as soon as I reached the outskirts of the dance floor I was met with a wall of bumping bodies. The occasional gaps that slid past me couldn't fit me. Marly could slide through not hurting anyone but my chair was bound to bruise some people. Great. It was this awkward situation that made my ball a bore. I couldn't get to the dance floor so I gave up and sat at my table bored all night.

"Just a second, it's my favourite song they're gonna play…"

God damn it I wasn't going to let this lousy contraption confine me from having fun this time. Muttering a lot of, "Excuse me!"s and "Sorry!"s I tried to gently push my way through the crowd. Most people gave me a surprised look when I nudged them to get to the centre of the dance floor. I guess they were wondering why on earth a girl in wheelchair would be trying to dance. I suppose that's a fair question.  Some people were too drunk or having too much fun to quite notice the heads up I was trying to give them and bumped and crashed into me, literally rattling my cage. I winced; they were going to be sore tomorrow. One blonde girl with large goo goo eyes had too much to drink and fell into giggles into my lap.

"Hey, do you mind if I take a ride in this thing?" she slurred.

"You've got legs," I snapped back in disgust. "Use them."

Her boyfriend arrived, muttered a whole lot of apologies, and hauled her off my lap just before she puked. Lovely.

Another couple, who were even more disgusting, were dry-grinding on the floor. As revolting as it was to watch, it was mesmerising. Jeez! You two or more than welcome to use my disabled cubicle as long as you don't do it in front of me! The guy's hands were squeezing her ass and crawling up her short skirt. I blushed. Any guy would have a hard time doing that with me.

Aha! I finally arrived in the centre of the dance floor. The music was even louder here and a chorus of drunks and partiers were screaming the lyrics:

"And now you won't stop calling me, I'm kinda busy…"

Marly grinned at me, swaying her hips and throwing up her arms in loose free fashion. I don't know whether to call that dancing. I made my own loose free attempts, my wheelchair moving back on forth slightly as I moved. It wasn't dancing, but I was enjoying myself. People stepped back, giving me a wide berth.

"I got my head and my heart on the dance floor…"

Yep, that's me, baby.