Part 2: This was a wild night to remember!
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After parking, Jose and I walked across the street to Club Goya. I was excited to see that a line had already formed outside, indicating that the club would be packed.
Jose politely held the door open as I stepped into a small, dimly lit lobby. The black walls of the entryway stood in stark contrast to the eye-catching décor inside the club and bar area.
Once inside, to my left, a cashier sat at a small table holding a roll of tickets and a cash box. I was startled to see a burly, bald bouncer near the door leading to the inner club area. His smooth head gleamed like a bowling ball under the dim light. His muscular physique strained against his tight black T-shirt as he stood with his arms folded across his massive chest, making him look like a dangerous Michelin Tire Man. No doubt, his imposing body deterred troublemakers and any potential disturbances. And as many times as I have been to Goya, there has never been any trouble. I suspect that this bouncer was the reason.
AT CLUB GOYA
After getting our tickets, we entered the club. The bar area and splashy decor inside the club were striking. The black-and-white tiled floor immediately caught my attention. It was reminiscent of a floor in a nostalgic 1950s soda shop. An ornate mirror lined the wall behind the bar, which was always well-stocked with an array of fancy bottles of liqueurs, wine, mixers, and alcoholic beverages. Oddly shaped mirrors decorated some areas on the club's pastel-pink walls.
Three huge mirrored disco balls hung above the dance floor and rotated simultaneously. Their light reflected off the mirrored wall behind the bar and bounced along the walls throughout the club. Two long buffet tables covered with white tablecloths were located on the right. A bouquet of fresh flowers in an ornate vase decorated each end.
Strings of multicolored lights hanging from the ceiling blinked at intervals. The lights created a vivid, kaleidoscope effect by reflecting off the disco balls and throughout the club.
Videos of famous Latin American singers and dance bands played continuously on a large-screen TV mounted on the wall behind the small stage.
To the right of the stage, a spiral staircase with black wrought-iron railing led to the restrooms downstairs. I had to be careful not to get too tipsy so that when I had to go, I could maneuver the steps without slipping down on my butt.
The highlight of my night was free food on the buffet table, which opened at 11:00 sharp. There was a wide variety of appetizing finger foods, to include fresh salads, desserts, and spicy Spanish dishes. I always made it a point to get in line early, even if it meant leaving Jose on the dance floor.
Jose and I made our way through the crowd to get to our favorite spot at the bar directly across from the DJ's booth. From there, we had a perfect view of the dance floor and easy access to it.
I hopped up onto one of the bar stools. Jose bought me a glass of wine and stood next to me, ready to dance with me or any of the cheeky wenches frisky enough to grab him. I decided to sit this song out as a swarm of ladies surrounded him. Jose took one lady by the hand and headed to the dance floor with her. I watched all the energetic dancers and shimmied on my bar stool as one of the latest salsa tunes blared from the enormous speakers.
Later when I heard one of my favorite salsa tunes, I grabbed Jose's arm and jumped off my stool onto the floor to go dance with him. But my foot landed on something that felt soft and squishy, like a thick piece of meat. I hesitated a little bit, but Jose took my arm to steady me. The thing under my foot tried to move, but it couldn't. I looked down and saw that I had stepped on one of Jose's feet! Yikes! We both looked at his foot and cracked up laughing. Fortunately, no one else noticed me stepping on his foot. Jose took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Both of us were ready to bust some slick salsa moves.
Kicking his shoes off was typical of Jose. He was always carefree and maintained a good mood come hell or high water. Just when I thought that the fire on his shirt wasn't enough drama for the night, Jose had kicked off his shoes somewhere near the bar and decided to dance in his black socks. Why? I didn't know and was afraid to ask.
Immediately, I could not forget one important thing. Jose was in agony that night, and I doubt many people could bear such pain. I knew he was suffering from the scorched skin on his back, but he never showed any distress. Jose had the determination of a wounded tiger still raring to go for a challenging jungle hunt. Despite his discomfort, Jose proved to be an energetic, passionate salsa dancer.
At times, I became annoyed at the swarm of spirited senoritas itching to show off their moves with him. They vied with each other to snag him as a partner. He was that good of a salsa dancer. But as my dear friend, Jose always reserved several dances for me. Salsa dancing with him was the only thing that kept me from beating those hungry hussies away from him with one of my high-heeled shoes.
When another one of my favorite songs came on, Jose grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor. As we started our salsa routine, I took great care to avoid both of his feet while dancing my butt off. I think I probably created some new salsa dance steps in doing so.
Promptly at 11:00 p.m., we ate well at that buffet table. Honestly, I don't think anyone but me really noticed the hole in Jose's shirt or his shoeless feet that night. Being the good friend that I am, I didn't tell anyone or plan to tell anyone about any of Jose's mishaps because no one would believe me anyway.
In between dancing to salsa, merengue, and bachata songs, Jose guzzled several bottles of Coronas with fresh lemon slices and shots of tequila from salt-rimmed glasses. This was his "party medicine," and on top of the two Long Island iced teas he had previously, all this juice kept his pain at bay. He never missed a beat with his quick steps and rhythmic moves. Jose felt at ease as he did what came naturally to him: dancing. That night, for sure, Jose felt no pain.
We partied well into the wee hours of the morning. Then, the music stopped abruptly. The lights came on. It was 03:30 in the morning. Jose found his shoes underneath my bar stool and put them on...finally. Everyone was still raring to go, but the bouncers politely herded the crowd to the door and kicked us all out.
LEAVING CLUB GOYA
I drove Jose to his house in Mombrich, 20 minutes away. I watched him as he staggered out of my car. I didn't leave immediately for good reason. Thankfully, he never fell. I saw him wave goodbye to me before he went through the gate at the side of his house. I knew then that he would be ok. As I drove back to my hotel, I smiled and thought, "What a night to remember!"