Let’s Talk Trash
The dancefloor’s not your dumping ground.
My dancefloor is your bed. Stop throwing your shit on the ground.
Think about it. Your bed is the place where you’re at one with yourself. It’s where you find solace from this crazy world, dream and reinvigorate yourself again and again. Well, that’s exactly how I feel about the dancefloor. And I’m guessing that 98% of you don’t have random trash strewn about your bedding. You’re not cozying up with Red Bull cans and crushed plastic cups amongst your duvet and 300 thread count sheets. The dancefloor is a sacred space for me. And judging by the looks of ecstasy and jubilation I see out there, it’s safe to say it’s of high importance to many of you too.
I mean it’s not surprising. Trash is everywhere. On every sacred space this beautiful Earth has to offer. And people (including myself) are essentially trash factories. The issue is exponentially larger than the one at hand. But given that the dancefloor is a source of one’s soul’s nourishment, why would you shit where you eat? The only upside to this lackadaisical laziness are floor drugs. And if your eagle eye spies them, be sure to test before a sniff or a taste, because that roulette can be fatal.
Unless you like to dance in a sea of trash, I’m guessing you might be feeling the same way. Are people really that lazy that they just drop their cup wherever they’re standing? That’s a stupid statement, as it’s quite obviously the case. But it really is absurd. Does it not really bother these proverbial litterbugs to dance on top of their cups, cans, bottles or whatever? I guess if you’re just standing and gawking at the DJ or doing the snoozy shuffle perhaps your trash isn’t in your way. Well, I’m here to tell you that your waste is in my way and everyone else’s.
If there’s no trash can, then take a few steps and put it against the side of the wall. Just don’t put it on the speakers and disrespect our source of sound which costs thousands of dollars. Or *gasp* the DJ booth. I seriously cannot believe the audacity of people putting their beverages next to the decks. Would you like it if I came by your desk, casually dropped the remnants of my lunch on it and then stood there watching you work.
And then there’s gum. One the worst offenders of them all. I 86’d gum from my life after I sat in it at a rave in 1996. Wearing my fresh as fuck phat pants (Q Ambient), delightfully high and then plop. My night turned into a very sticky situation. For those who chew gum and spit it on the floor, I just wanna know- have you never stepped on it? When I have, it takes a 45 minute ticky tacky tap dance to (hopefully) get it off my boots.
Perhaps I’m being a tad dramatic. But come on folks, really?! If that’s what you want, fine. Different strokes for different blokes. Just not on OUR dancefloor. You should have a separate party for your trash raves. Where I’m guessing there’s trash music.