I want to dance

This old popular song from an operetta came to mind when I still couldn’t dance at night... And there was a reason - my beloved husband Andrei arrived from Holland. We decided to have a blast and celebrate this event in a restaurant. The first place for this was the Bega club. We were seated in a separate VIP room, a candle was lit, but the general light was not on and it was dark. When we asked to turn on the lights, we were told that they had problems...
In the dark, we still had a drink and a snack, but when stripper girls came to us uninvited, we were a little confused. We talked about their working conditions, pay, music and dancing, treated them, paid and left: we really wanted to dance, but it was inappropriate here, because... A girl performed a solo dance, wrapping herself around a pole.
The next restaurant was Angara. There we drank a glass of cold, unfiltered beer and ordered the tune “I Raise My Glass” for an astronomical sum. After which we left for the Metropol, deciding that we could finally have a blast there. (The whole country learned how much I love and can dance when I did it at Listyev’s Tema, changing my whole life.) For some reason, the Metropol was closed, and we had to go down to the Luxor. Several couples were sitting on luxurious sofas, and we sat next to each other.
We were served by waiters in exotic clothes, the music sounded oriental. The tea was wonderful and the ice cream was expensive, but we didn’t get to dance. Having paid and said goodbye, we found ourselves confused: where should we go to celebrate the meeting beautifully? At the casino? But they play other games there. To the disco? But there a crowd of young people trample in the same rhythm. Where should decent people go? Today we have such a mood, and there is a reason, and even money. All of Moscow is in front of us, but there is nowhere to go. I once hosted the “Toys for Gourmets” program on TV and traveled from restaurant to restaurant with filming. I frantically tried to remember: “Pivnushka” is not that, “Kakadu” is not that. As a result, we went closer to home, to “Empire,” but the bar where they dance was closed. I had to go to a restaurant where there was no one, order tea again (as if we had no tea at home), drink it and go home in grief, having never satisfied my passion. I called Oleg Nazarov, who runs the “Restaurant Rating”, and he said that there is a restaurant “Limpopo” where they dance. “True, only blacks,” he explained, “but they are happy to invite Russians into the circle.” Well, next time I'll try to check.
Lidia Ivanova