"Are you there Cheeha? Its me Elina"

As I get older, the clubbing scene has become as familiar a sight to me as my own ass. I know exactly what to expect more or less, and am no longer in awe of my surroundings, needless to say I am a little jaded.

However, I will always remember my first club experience. It was at a 16 and older party in downtown New York City, which now sounds about as appealing as going down on Flavor Flav, but at the time was extremely exciting. In fact none of this would have occurred if Cheeha an I never went to NY to stay at her uncle's apartment.

As she announced to me, that her uncle gave us an open invitation we both jumped up and down, doing everything short of peeing ourselves at the thought of spending a few nights in NYC. At a time in our lives when the climax of the weekend included hanging around the mall and watching every single movie there was short of the ones with subtitles ( who wants to practice their hooked on phonics when watching a movie), the trip to the city was simply a Godsend.

With the same vigor and excitement of a fat girl that just got to suck on the first and last cock she will see in months me and Cheeha packed our shit and headed for the train station to New York. Now before this whole story erupts, its probably a good idea to mention that when Cheeha and I do anything together our retardation level far exceeds the collective one at the special Olympics. Somehow we bring out the handicapped side of each other and its really a wonder that anyone lets us leave the house together. Cheeha has about as much grace as an elephant, and of the two of us, she's the one that requires to be walking around in a helmet and/or earmuffs based on the fact that she stumbles and falls with at least every 10 steps that she takes. Seeing as she is exceptionally short and therefore very close to the ground, sometimes these falls end with her on all fours . Unfortunately this occurrence does not happen as often as I'd like so when it does, instead of helping her up I have been known to stand there and savor the moment, as every best friend should.

After we gave National Security a heads up that we were leaving for NYC we quickly packed all our life long belongings into suitcases and piled into her mothers minivan to get dropped off at the Trenton train station. On the way there her mother was legitimately worried, and was working out a strict calling regime that Cheeha had to adhere to. Little did I know that this calling schedule paired with her obnoxious ring tone would tempt me to lodge the nokia straight into her anus a mere 24 hours later. However, in attempt to calm her mothers fears I suddenly decided to interject in her conversation, I casually turn to Cheeha seated in the back seat of the car and inquire

" Hey Cheeh, you didn't you forget to pack the condoms, did you?"

As her mother's reaction fluctuated between laughter and nausea at my comment, she continued to explain between giggles that when I give birth to my own children I will understand her concern.

"Well, I can always forgo the condoms altogether and get a head start on that experience this weekend so we can better relate to each other if you like," I responded.

As the car swerved she began hysterically laughing and then when she finished she punched me. Its ok I knew that was coming, but based on Cheeha's laughter in the back seat, it was well worth it.

Much like the color coded system the country has to determine the level of the nations security, I have a system to determine the levels of Cheeha's laughter. Anything from simple laughter, to silence (no air) laughter, then comes the snorting, followed by a laughter that is just unstoppable and has been noted to last anywhere from 4 to 54 minutes. This last stage of uncontrollable laughter is the best time for all of our friends to bring up such things as recently deceased pets and family members or even the Holocaust. In this sick little game, the premise is to pick the most horrible thing you can possibly imagine, and witness her laughing fits continue in spite of it.

As we bought our tickets and climbed into the train, several stops later the call overhead was made for new york,we swiftly climbed out of the train and onto the platform. The second we reach the platform a woman behind us with a thick Russian accent inquired,

"Is this New York City?"

Completely confident in our decision we answered "Yes" in unison and watched her drag her collection of black suitcases off the train, onto the platform, and head on her merry way.

Suddenly we look up at a sign that showed us that we are in fact in Newark rather than New York, both of us horrified by our ridiculous mistake jumped back on the train right before the sliding doors had a chance to close. Relieved, we settled into the front seat of the cart. We felt really bad for the lady that got off at the wrong stop for at least the next 3 minutes or so before we got distracted by reading over the graffiti that graced the walls of the passenger cart, I found the story line simply fascinating. To this day I imagine that she lives in Newark, and is sill under the impression that it is NYC. I picture her writing back to her family in Russia, " Dear Boris, New York City is not at all as they show in the movies. It is just one big shit hole. American bastards!"

As we finally arrived in the city, Cheeha's amazingly gracious and generous uncle picked up our luggage and took it back to his place. This allowed us to head out with a few of Cheeha's friends she knew from her childhood, seeing as they knew the city rather well and decreased our chances of getting raped/mugged considerably. Here is where the real adventure began.

After deciding on this 16 and older hip hop club, I now realize we may have overlooked the fact that two suburban, white, Jewish girls might stick out there like a nun at a male strip club. As we all stood in line to get our IDs checked and our vaginal and anal cavities searched for weapons, I saw that it was my turn and slowly approached the 300 pound black woman waiting for me. After her search I realized that I had just lost all sense of my dignity for the night, as well as my virginity to Big Bertha.

" Dear diary, today a large black woman popped my cherry. I was a little nervous and scared, but she really made me feel special and turned it into an experience I will never forget. I really hope she calls me in the morning like she promised."

While figuring out the logistics of me and Big Bertha's future relationship. Will she call? Will a long distance relationship be challenging? Will she shave off her mustache if I ask nicely? All pressing issues running through my mind as I began heading up a series of staircases with about 500 other people.

When we entered the room with the dance floor, the feeling I got can only be compared to getting tackled to the ground and then wrestled by a naked, sweaty 67 year old man. The room literally felt like a sauna. The heat mixed in with the sweat of adolescent boys smelled like old ball sack, and I continued circling the room by holding onto the walls seeing as I was well aware that I would pass out at any moment.

While Cheeha's friends left us and dispersed around the dance floor within the first 30 seconds of entering Satan's playground, we found the nearest fan and hogged it completely. If anyone had a problem with me acquiring all the ventilation and well air in the room, I was ready to insist to them that the fan was in fact a really skinny white guy and I insist on grinding with him until i felt a boner no matter how long it would take!

What seemed like at least seven hours later and 8 trips to the rooftop which was so crowded that, if you were lucky to survive the trip up there, the only view you could see was the sky right above you. While soaking through my brand new red tank top I looked over at Cheeha who finally left her pathetic efforts of attempting to dance behind, and was hanging on to the wall in a state of half consciousness. The only thing that was able to keep me alive was the sight of that fucking dance floor. Perched next to the fan I had a perfect view of everything that was going on. Just about every person there was humping like they had just bought a 24 pack of condoms and it was their first day out of prison. It was like a giant orgy which I soon unwillingly became a part of. While closely examining how the 3 girls standing 6 feet away from me were able to get their thongs to stick out at least a whole foot above the top of their jeans, I felt a sharp kick to my back.

"Quit it" I snapped at Cheeha. I was hot, sweaty, and miserable, and in no mood to play her little games.

"That wasn't me," she responded while rubbing her back as well.

Both of us slowly turned around to see a 14 year old version of Jenna Jamison mounting some guy who's face was not visible at the moment due to the fact that it was squeezed in between her obviously overstuffed tities. I could see that the stuffing was drooping and slowly sliding its way to her back at one point, as they continued to roll around on the platform we were sitting on. Feeling slightly voyeresque I decided that the love me and Bertha made on my way into the club was way more beautiful than this disgusting spectacle and respectfully turned my head to face forward again. Moving to another plantform was simply not an option because this was the only available fan in the room now. We quickly decided that we would just have to put up with the kiddy porno being made behind us in order to make it out of here without suffocating. Judging by her moans I could predict that the guy's 4 inch penis had penetrated, and just really hoped that that wasn't the pointy little object that i felt poking at my side just moments ago. As I made a mental note to get my new red shirt tested for herpes first thing in the morning, I turned to Cheeha dripping sweat, and slipping in and out of consciousness.

"I'm sorry but we need to go before I go off the edge and start stabbing all these motherfuckers with my new hoop earrings ( because that's all i had seeing as Bertha confiscated my switch blade at the door)" I managed to scream over the music.

"Yeah," she moaned as Jenna Jamison's head was now banging against Cheeha's spine in a rhythmic motion.

Slowly we made our way down the steps, brushing by people fucking as if it was some sort of special NYC mating season the rest of us were unaware of. Hoping I had not accidentally acquired any STDs from the thick air, I quickly waved to Bertha and ran outside for a breath of fresh air. Seeing as we were sweating like a Catholic priest at a high school soccer game, upon leaving the club our hair was a mess, make up had become smeared, and shirts were soaked through. We quickly came to the realization that we were even unattractive to the homeless man on the corner which was missing his two front teeth, his right eye, and his left leg, and decided to head home. As we hailed a cab and went back to her uncle J's apartment, I wanted to shower and sleep more than a cheap whore wants the crack pipe.

Upon reaching J's apartment which was located in the extremely nice upper east side of the city, but lets just say was somewhat aesthetically challenged, we climbed into the elevator and made our way up to the 14 floor. Upon entering the apartment we saw that our sleeping arrangement was somewhat grim. We had to settle on sleeping on the black leather couch and love seat that were squeezed into the '2x2' living room, which contained no windows. Seeing as Cheeha hardly reached five feet, i was nominated to sleep on the couch. About as comfortable as a sidewalk, but simply priceless for one glorious reason: I had the perfect view of Cheeha attempting to stretch out on the love seat. Even for her 4' 11" frame this thing was entirely too short, and while lying down with her legs stretched out, her body resembled that of a perfect V shape. Not really sure whether this was her pathetic attempt to do pilates at the end of this night, or go to sleep, I mumbled "good night" and passed out.

Years later and we still visit New York at least once a year when J decides to go on vacation. Lucky for us this week of his choice is usually during some sort of blizzard or natural disaster. However, we always manage to brave through the weather and have a good time. Now his apartment is bigger and nicer, and instead of being squeezed into couches, like Mexicans in the back of a pickup truck, we are able to comfortably sleep on a lucious king sized bed. This addition of extra space, does not stop me from accidentally punching her in the middle of the night, but its ok because she hardly ever notices anymore.

As we now get drinks at considerably nicer places. I stand on the nice balcony and think back years ago to the sweaty club. Is it still there? How old is Jenna Jamison's love child from that night already? Has Bertha moved on to someone else? As these thoughts run through my mind I hear Cheeha take a fall somewhere between the bathroom and bedroom, and realize all of this is insignificant as long as I have this little mentally challenged girl by my side, and on all fours, for the rest of my life.