You know that feeling when sometimes you REALLY need to get away? You've had just about enough of school, the checkout guy who keeps eerily checking you out, your nagging roommate, that ingrown nose hair and pretty much planet Earth in general and wish you could escape to an alternate universe all together. We've all been there, of course, but perhaps didn't exactly know how to handle the situation. Little did you know that there has been a simple solution and alternative universe right here in little ol Norman, Oklahoma, known as Opie's Night Club. Or, for those of us who repeatedly plan to return, simply: Opie's.
Most people in this college town have an Opie's story. They either know a friend of a friend or a sister or cousin whose picture is on the wall or was maybe "grooved on" one too many times at the Club. Some folks stumble upon the establishment because it's practically their back yard, and some get dragged there because it's their boss's birthday and they want to look sooo good. Others brave the invite of a close friend, which, in my opinion, is the ultimate friendship test. Sure, it helps if you like to dance, and I'll admit, it's not the kind of place you'd go to if your alternate universe involves fancy cocktails or 150" HD plasma LED flat screens. But if you're with a group of your "close" friends and they're all out there gettin' down and groovy and you're sittin' in your wicker chair thinking you'd rather be tweezing your ingrown nose hair, you may want to seriously re-think your common interests.
The first time I went to Opie's was in 2006, with one of my girlfriends whose older brother used to frequent the establishment. Even though she is a Norman native, she had yet to explore the mystery, so one daring night, we gave it a go. The instant we stepped across the threshold, we were transported back in time, to carpet the length of a Chia Pet's 'fro, flashing light bulbs the colors of Skittles, reflected by spinning mirrored balls and walls of mirrored walls. Not to mention that Opie, himself, dressed in a camel-colored, mole-haired, suite and mock turtle neck and decorated in gold jewelry, greeted us at the door. Once we took a minute to breathe and exhale, we noticed the actual dance floor. Dance floor is an understatement. It's pretty much as if Simon Says and Dance Dance Revolution got married by Mattel and Opie's was born, only so that the two games could have an outrageous wedding reception, all in one night. The floor is made of tiles. And the tiles light up...in different colors. And on our debut night, they also happened to have karaoke, which of course, I dutifully filled out my request that was probably a Judd's song.
That night seems like eons ago. Soon after, I left the country, and although I found temporary replacements for dancing and karaoke, nothing quite topped the charts, like Opie's did. My friend sent me updates, about the crowds and regulars, songs that were played, the bouncers and wait staff, and of course Opie. Then, one fine update, she divulges that the Club has a VIP card. Not only does it have a VIP card that gets you in, without the cover, at any time throughout the night, but she's got one!
For months, after my return to Norman, I openly coveted her VIP card. Apparently you have to really "get Opie's attention" in order to receive one. She got hers from a friend who had other lady friends visiting from out of town. I didn't know how I would ever get one, but I just knew I had to have one.
Then, last Friday, me and three girlfriends, including my original Opie's friend, zipped up our dancing shoes and headed for the flashing lights. Hands down, it was the most epic Opie's night I had ever experienced. To start, catching up with lady friends is always a good base line. Then, add dancing as a group, and with THE classic regular, whose dance partner mystery we finally uncovered, a little flirting with fellow mid-twenties Opie's frequenters, not one, but two birthday celebrations, The Safety Dance, some Dirty Dancers, Madonna, and hugs from Opie (not just the pound)!! The icing on the cake?! One of the birthday boys got a stack of VIP cards from Opie, which he gave to each each one of us ladies!! I really thought I was going to burst.
Now, my very own VIP card is now laminated with packing tape and tucked safely in my wallet. That is, until the next time I get the urge to dance to Pat Benatar on a rainbow colored floor, at 12:30am.
