Supposedly, some of the characteristics of autism is that we don't get along well in big crowds, sensitive to noise and are sometimes hugely introverted. No situation will prove that better than my first ever visit to a local nightclub.

Me and a friend were just playing around with instruments one day, until he decided that he wants to go out. By go out, he meant visit a nightclub. Now, I might not be such a party animal, but I thought it was time I got out of my shell for a bit. Not to mention that I 1) love getting out of the house for a while and 2) wanted something new to happen with me. So, we got money, took the train, bought ourselves a big can of Red Bull, and prepared for an all-nighter.

In a short amount of time, the friend proved much more social and comfortable with people than I was, from running a subtle line by a woman to testing a girl on how drunk she is on the train. I was impressed and amused.

After we got off the train, got our rainy day money and went to the front door and paid $20, the bouncer said we couldn't get in with the Red Bull. The Red Bulls we had weren't those small cans. We had the big ones, so we could get through the night. While my friend threw his away, I, not being one to waste a drink, opened up the can I was saving for the night and chugged the whole can of Red Bull in front of the bouncer in under a minute in a half, to which they were stunned and predicted a buzz. That was the only bit of fun I had, before things went kind of downhill from there.

As soon as we got into the nightclub, the lights that shone were so beautiful that I took a camera video of some of them. I found that this friend had some connections and some friends at the club. Being awkward around girls, all I did the whole night was say hello to his people and went at it alone.

He suggested we go to the top floor where everyone lose their inhibitions and let go. Who was I to argue? Maybe the buzz would kick in. It didn't really. I couldn't dance, I hated the music, and I wasn't very social. A girl wanted to dance with me, but in mere discomfort, I left her to dance with...let's call this friend A, shall we? He was worried about me, but I told him to go on ahead.

The whole time, when I was in the club, I spent all my time either on the love seat shooting lights (they bouncers probably didn't know I had a camera), finding solace in two of the public bathrooms, and just lying down drowning out the music with something better. I didn't have my iPod with me, but my head was always like my own personal radio. The most I could muster was bopping my head, if the song was good.

I was wondering when my inhibitions were going to be lost. After all, I was restless after chugging that Red Bull. (So much so that I couldn't sleep until probably 2 in the afternoon the next day.) But all I could think of was "I hate this place". I saw a girl so drunk that she fell over, panties in plain view. I convinced myself that in order to ever enjoy this place, I had to get drunk, too. I preferred to be so drunk that I forgot about the whole day. No dice; I bought like two bottles of VitaminWater.

My friend A knew I was not having fun, so he grabbed his girl friends, and we took a break and got out of the club, hoping to get back in. It wasn't until we went to the store and grabbed snacks that I started to open up and get to know them more.

I told him that maybe some other time, I'll be a little more open. But face it, I don't even dance when I have dance music on my iPod. So, I am clearly not a big fan of the atmosphere. Not to mention. using Top 40 songs got so cliche for a nightclub. Even if it left me and A walking around downtown very late at night (he wanted to get back in, but the bouncers said once you left, you can't get back in. That left us walking around a t midnight because the first ever train back home didn't come until 5:30 in the morning.), to tell you the truth, I was as glad to be out of the house, as I was glad I was out of there.

The funny part was that his friend who worked at the local Walgreens told us that the club we were visiting was the worst. My response was, "it's my first visit to a nightclub. I'm sure it won't make a difference."

...happy Autism Awareness Day, everyone.

Here is a video I made a year ago for the occasion in college.

It's funny the things I can imagine when watching a stand-up comedy special.

British comedian Ricky Gervais was mentioning in his comedy act that he was doing charity work once and decided he wants to take out an autitstic woman for the day. While listening to this, my mind suddenly formed one question: when am I going to see an autistic comedian or a comedian with Aspergers? Just so the ignorant knows, Asperger's is only a certain form of Autism, so no, comrades, it is not the same thing.

Considering the reputation people with Aspergers (like me) get from being brutally honest and lacking "social graces", and the occupation of stand-up comedy didn't seem so farfetched.

Being an enjoyer of stand-up comedy (Chris Rock, Steve Harvey, and George Lopez being three of my favorite comedians to watch), I started seeing a pattern. Comedians like to tell the truth,  but sarcasm, scenarios, and downright douchebaggery all stress the thoughts of a comedian enough to make something so mundane seem interesting. Supposedly, you are likely to expect that from the mind of the most opinionated Aspies.

I only considered the idea once. Despite my inability to really perform clean comedy, I practiced an impromptu act in front of my oldest brother, and it worked. I was completely honest about life, and performed with heart and honesty, and made him laugh. The only thing he says I need to work on is timing.

Despite that moment, I am not that interested in performing comedy. Still, it sounds like an ideal career for those who like putting their honesty to full use.