The Girls Come Out to Play [Lounge]

Play Lounge is a cheesy hell-hole. It's pretentious, it's expensive, it's humid, and it's SO last season. So why do I keep going back? After a day of drinking in the sun, then dinner and post-Gold Cup beverages in Arlington, when Namaste and I were debating where we wanted to shake our [significant] tooshies, my first and last thought was Play.

15 minutes later we were in line.



16 minutes later, we were ordering a tasty RBV at the bar.



18 minutes later we were in the middle of the dance floor.



Here's the thing. The reason I still like Play is because people who go there get really, really wasted. You can dance like this, and nobody notices. You can let loose like it's your job and nobody will remember (well, provided you leave your camera at home).

If that's not enough to entertain you, there's also delectable, security-guard eye candy (who will, in fact, dance with you...and let you play with his...flashlight),



Wasted, half-naked DIPs getting arrested outside the window,



and Julia's right next door, which kicks the crap out of Jumbo Slice any 3am of the week.

Yep - it's guaranteed. I will continue to frequent the place until it shuts down, much to the chagrin of some of my blogging compatriots.