Pacha turned itself into a surreal experience for me. The club being a usually overcrowded, underground work of hidden night life wedged in uptown Manhattan. I always generally avoid it like the plague unless Hugo or Porter plays there. Last night turned into one of those things where I ended up there because Hugo was back in town.
Why I say surreal was because there’s usually never a line at ten o’clock, and there was quite the line to get in this time around. When I walked in, I watched the dance floor fill up pretty quickly. It was a drastic turn out. Many more coming out to catch him than I’ve seen.
Me: I can fake speak French. Kinda. No, no, I can’t at all.
Hugo: Try me!
Me: I told you I—-
Hugo: [Starts speaking French about a mile a minute]
Me: [Inwardly transforms into this video] Fuck.
Hugo: Baguette. [More French]
Me: Is that my name in French?
Hugo: [Smirk] No.
Both: [Crack up]