Monday, December 8, 2008

In which Platinum of Birmingham eats my blackberry

Growing up in Birmingham, I always heard stories about Platinum of Birmingham. Mostly bad ones. In the part of town I grew up in (read: very white, pretty wealthy), people just don't go to the North side of the city. It's an area known for its drug use, violent crimes, and general scaryness. Oh noez, sez the white folk.

Of course, I always wanted to go to Platinum. Anyone who knows me knows I love hip-hop and rap, and I love to dance. Also I don't think of myself as just another white girl and I'm all for breaking down racial barriers. And if something scares me, it just makes me more likely to do it. So Saturday night, my friend M, who shares my passion for horrible pop-hop and rap, decided to join me as we ventured to the North side to fulfill my life's dream: droppin' it on the dance floor of Platinum.

As soon as we pulled up to the 8th street block of 2nd Ave N, I could feel the energy and I was immediately hooked. People roamed the streets on their way to the club, cop cars were everywhere, and there was a barbecue stand set up a block from the entrance. I can has late night ribz? People drove by with their subwoofers bumping and their sunglasses on. It was midnight, which is, of course, irrelevant.

We drove around for about 20 minutes looking for a parking spot. We found one, put our shades on, and marched toward the club. It was freezing. We waited in line for about 30 minutes, which was quite unpleasant. When we finally got to the door, we were ushered through a metal detector and asked to pay the $10 cover. Normally, my rule for Birmingham is that I refuse to pay more than $5 to get in anywhere. But Platinum is special. And I knew it would totally be worth it.

Once we actually entered the club, it was worth it. There was a huge dance floor, people dancing everywhere, three huge bars, and a back room with ample seating. It was smoky, of course, which I dislike, but that was to be expected. And, of course, the jamz were bumpin'. They played all the music I LOVE and secretly listen to in my car all the time (read: T-Pain, T.I., Ludacris, Crime Mob, Plies). I was basically in heaven.

PofB magic

We headed down to the dance floor and proceeded to get crushed. It was so packed. But we tried to make some space for ourselves and danced for a bit before I looked down and realized my wristlet had come open and my blackberry was MIA. Fuck.

I immediately bent down and started searching among the feet, legs, stilettos, and discarded beer bottles for my poor phone. Nowhere to be found. M called it so I could see it light up if it were anywhere in the immediate vicinity. Nope. So we retraced our steps - by this time we had literally walked all over the club - and hunted for it. Amazingly, I found my lip gloss in a completely different part of the club than where we were. But no phone.

I asked one of the bartenders if anyone had turned in a phone. Nothing. M and I ventured up to the DJ booth, which was elevated above the dance floor on the second level, and Young Dil called out over the music four times asking for the return of my precious phone if anyone should come across it. He also took M's phone number and said he would call if it turned up. Of course, he never did, but it was a sweet gesture. In fact, everyone there was helpful and seemed genuinely concerned, both people employed at the club and patrons. People could obvs tell I was looking for something, because I was hunched over and looking down most of the time, so they kept asking me what I was looking for and offering their condolences. So sad.

Since Saturday night I have called the club multiple times trying to find it. No one turned it into the lost and found. I finally gave up yesterday and deactivated it. I dreamed of going to Platinum all my semi-adult life, but never did I think my relationship with a club would ever become so intimate. On my list of things to do before leaving Birmingham: go to Platinum. Check. Not on my list of things to do before leaving Birmingham: lose my phone. Fail.

RIP Blackberry with tha blue cover
November 2007 - November 2008
The best phone named after a fruit I ever had.

Majorly yours.

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