Too Much Heaven

That's it...I need a BREAK from Kenny's Key West!

I got to the club at about 9:30 (I was running a bit late). My friend gets me in and it's business as usual. Not that many people actually inside, but a line outside to the street. I brought my trusty laptop, in case I was going to happen upon some new tunes.

I ended up leaving my track in my car, and fearing a shakedown upon re-entry, decided to leave it where it was. I'm texting people, keeping them in the loop about everything that's been going on. I loaded my stuff up and was ready to DJ!! One of the paid DJ's brought a CD duplicator, so my laptop thankfully would not have to bear the brunt of the burning and copying. When I arrived, the dance floor looked like this:

However, that meant that my friend was busy and did not want to tend to me doing the music. I was getting requests and I wanted to fulfill them (especially when this "stallion" wanted to hear some Gotty Boi Chris), but the DJ was like "it can wait." He had a CD in and was letting it play through while he made his copies.

Realizing I might have been a bit TOO excited, I had to fall back and check myself. We had the whole night ahead of us, and I didn't need to waste time pissin' people off from the get-go. I waited until he was done with his copies, and we began to chat about what might be in store for us. I saw some things that confirmed the concepts behind some of my theories. The woman in the following picture was an INTENSE Category 3, but was super-offended when guys slapped her ass and felt her up:

That same theory was confirmed through the presence of the horny gluticular predators. It seemed as though every guy there was starved of a booty grind and was thrown in the Kenny's cage to feast. Anybody who LOOKED like they were dancing was immediately met with a crotch to the backside. Some succeeded, some failed, but MANY tried. I'm also working on some new theories, which I will reveal later. By about 10:30, the club looked like this:

These are the two DJ's on the payroll: DJ Hexx and DJ G-Money:

Me and G-Money


Me and DJ Hexx

THAT'S when the chaos began. First, Hexx made the mistake of hooking up his mic to the PA system. This must've been a magnet for yellaholics, because a one-armed yell machine and his grimey crimy came bursting in the DJ booth. This is the same cat who drove me out of the club before, yelling out about Soulja Slim. Even though there was a bounce song on, he was talking about Soulja Slim and crap. Here they are:

Him by himself:

Then, when they left, a woman, later identified as "Shamika", a friend of G-Money's, came into the booth. What makes it even more hood is that she was pregnant:

She came in and took the only available stool and just sat there. Her long legs forced her to sit legs agape, taking up even MORE space. Then, DJ Caponne and Young Chris of Tha Block Burnaz came into the DJ booth to yell on the mic and DJ. When they were done, Chris took to the mic for the next hour or so, yelling gibberish.

Then came the gangsta session of the night. The crowd had SWELLED to this:

The typical was played: Franchize Boys, Soulja Slim, B.G., Webbie, Boosie, Lil Wayne, etc. I'm trying my best to stand as people came and went, the number in that tiny DJ booth growing to 9. Shamika was still on the stool, and I was just there. I was getting tired on my feet, until the DJ could see people were leaving.

Then, he knew it was time to get back to bounce. He put on Gotty Boi Chris' "Cut It Up," and people came back. Then, he told me he had to go to the bathroom, which left the show up to ME!! I took to it like a fish to water, mixing and lighting it up. From 5th Ward Weebie to Big Freedia, I was ON IT! I rocked it like DJ'ing was in my veins. I tore it down and acted a damn fool until Hexx got back and was ready to do it again.

By now, it was standing room only:

Everything is going fine until Hexx has to go out and do something else. I moved to take over the DJ'ing when a rather tubby, dreaded individual, later named producer Big Choo, took to the boards. He put on a song and we all see Hexx running in, yelling frantically. He scared us all so bad, we thought he disagreed with the song choice (I know I thought it was), but he was yelling to turn on the lights. You see, as Kenny's Key West, whenever there's a fight, it's protocol to turn on the lights, so security can spot the perps involved. Hexx told me that it was a man beating down his woman, and that he was right next to them when it happened, which explains why he reacted so abruptly.

The lights stay on for a bit, and Chris is back on the mic, complaining about why black folk can't have a good time. I didn't care. I was taping video, because there was finally enough light for my camera to get good video. They eventually turn the lights back off, and G-Money is now the DJ. He goes into it for a while, then enters P-Town Moe, another rather tubby bounce artist (there's a running joke that all the big time musicians in New Orleans are literally big men, lol). He's on the mic talking about how he just got out of the pen, and how proud he is to be beating his meat. Then, the lights in the room NEXT to the dance room with the pool tables went on. Apparently, there was a fight there. Like before, the lights went back on:

Then, when things tried going back to normal, the people continued to yell on the mic, and OTHER people were taking turns on the 1's and 2's. Everybody must've been having the same week I was, because everybody wanted to control the crowd. However, I noticed a "n-gga effect" setting in. I was just there, and I was angry. It was something weird, because I wasn't mad at anything in particular. I was just VERY irritated. I think it's the overall male presence in the room. Every guy there was a D-Boy, pimp, or "just chillin'".

Time rolled by and things just got repetitive. The SAME songs, the SAME yelling (if I hear Choo yell "come on" one more time...), the SAME everything. It was getting old, so I had to get out. It was 5:00am, and the club was still moderately packed. I told Hexx I was leaving and headed out. The clean club reduced to this:

It's TOO FRIGGIN' MUCH!!! I need a break. Thank you.

-B