The Driest Wet Fete Pt 2: The Mansion

When we reached the parking lot, several cars were parked there. Although it was past midnight and the stores surrounding the parking lot were closed, the parking lot was buzzing. The sounds of reggae, soca, and hip hop were blasting out of cars as people waited for the shuttle to arrive. Not to be out done, Nevis turned up on the volume on his car stereo and blasted the latest soca and dancehall. We sat in the car with the doors open, allowing the music to pour out of the car into the parking lot. Slowly people left their cars and started to look around for the shuttle to the party. Although the flyer advertised that there would be shuttles to the party, there were no signs in the parking lot indicating when and where the shuttle would arrive. Getting restless, we left the car and walked towards the left side of the parking lot where a crowd had gathered around a dark-skinned black man. The man seemed to be affiliated with the party. He was who was dressed in all black and holding a walkie-talkie. The man informed everyone that the shuttle would be arriving soon. A few minutes after he announced this, a white shuttle bus arrived. We all piled on to it and headed towards the mysterious “mansion”.

Being in Atlanta only three nights at this point, I had absolutely no idea where I was and where the shuttle was taking us. The shuttle sped out of the parking lot and turned onto a dark side road that was adjacent to the parking lot. As we drove, I tried to look for any markers—street signs, houses, cars, etc---that would give me an idea of where we were going. But, I saw nothing. One thing that I noticed during my nighttime escapades in Atlanta was that the streets were very badly lit. It was dark. All I could see were trees, a few large houses peaking from behind trees, and more trees. My imagination began to run wild. This sounded like the beginning of a scary movie: 4 attractive, party-seeking 20-somethings get on a bus with strangers, head towards a party in an undisclosed location in the woods, and then end up chased and chopped up by a knife-wielding, masked killer. It is crazy what we will do for the promises of a good party. Fortunately, nothing horrible befell us.

After 10 minutes of driving in the dark, we arrived at the foot of a large white mansion on top of a hill. It looked like a scene out of a hip hop video or MTV Cribs. The mansion had white pillars and large windows that allowed you to see its interior. Light shone brightly through the large windows, illuminating the large white mansion against the dark night sky. Leading up to the mansion, there was a circular drive way. The shuttle let us out at the foot of the hill. We walked up the steep hill towards a trailer that was parked to the left of the mansion. Posted near the trailer, there were several big black security guards directing people to the trailer to pay for entry to the party. I forgot to mention at the beginning of this story that the cover for this party was $30--a pretty high price. For the past 8 years that I lived in New York, which is notorious for high-priced club covers, I tried hard to avoid parties with covers over $20. I think $20 is too much to pay for party, but I have an easier time handing over a $20 bill than two $20 bills or a $20 bill and a $10 (yikes!). Nonetheless, we all paid the woman sitting inside the trailer $30 each and made our way towards the house.

We walked through the mansion’s large glass double doors into a large foyer. Directly across from entrance, in the middle of the foyer, there was a large white fountain. I have to admit I was pretty amazed to see a fountain in a house. I knew that the flyer advertised that the party would be at a “millionaire dollar mansion”, but I didn’t expect for it to be in a real mansion on a hill. I expected a large club or maybe a house (bashment parties), but not a real mansion. I lived in New York where clubs have all types of interesting names, such as Bed, Home, Guesthouse, The Apartment, Pink Elephant, Duvet, and the list can go on and on, that indicate maybe the décor of the club but not the club is going to be a home, bed, guesthouse, pink elephant, or duvet. So, when I saw the word “mansion” on the flyer, I thought that the club space was being called “Mansion” or was going to be decorated like a mansion. But, I guess things are done differently in Atlanta, where you have more space and more mansions.

The mansion had an open floor plan that was very great for a large house party. The foyer flowed into the living area that was at the front of the house and the kitchen and dining area that was at the back of the house. Leading upstairs, there was a large white circular staircase. On the upstairs landing, the DJ and his equipment were set up. The space was completely cleared of furniture. I am not sure if the furniture was moved out for the party or if the house was regularly empty and was just being rented for the party. I am leaning towards the theory that the house was being rented because I couldn’t imagine someone going through the trouble to move their furniture for a party. Nonetheless, the space seemed large and ready for a packed party.
We walked past the kitchen and out a back door to the backyard, where we assumed that the wet zone of the party was located. Outside, there was a small shallow pool and few people standing around it chatting. Not dancing, but chatting!! We walked around the pool to see if there was another area, but there was nothing but grass and large rocks that a few people were using as seats. As we slowly looked around, we noticed that no one, except for us, was wearing swimsuits. What’s more, we didn’t see a wet zone. There were no signs or anything indicating that there was ever supposed to be a wet zone at the party. WTF?!? A shady shuttle ride through the woods of Georgia, a $30 dollar cover, and no water at a wet party? As you can guess, we were all pissed off that we came all that way for a wet party and it turned out to be a dry party. There were plenty of places that we could have gone to that night that would have been closer, cheaper, and more jumping from entry. But, since we paid our money, and had to depend on the shuttle to bring us back to our car, we decided to make the best of our situation. Despite being a dry wet party, it was still a Caribbean party, so there was of course food being served. Good food can usually improve any bad situation (Well in my case they do!). Nevis and Austin went back to the house to get us some food, while Paris and I sat on two large rocks a few feet away from the pool.

Minutes later, the guys came back with two plates of curried shrimp and rice with plantains. The food was as yummy as it sounded. But, at $10 per plate, we ended up sharing food. You should notice by now, if you have been keeping track of the money that I spent thus far at this party, that I was out of $40 at a dry “wet” party where no one was dancing. Not a good sign! It was 1am at this point and I was not sure if the party would ever get going.