Community Spotlight: Sofia Sparta

girls get in free

Ever met someone you instantly want to be friends with but also are a little afraid they might kill you? That’s Sofia! A self-actualized woman with a heart of gold who isn’t afraid to get messy with her feelings and maybe even…take revenge.

When Sofia shared this piece in Story 2, I knew I had to steal it from her. Written in Brooklyn is known for turning small moments into big stories, and Sofia’s story is perfect example of such. Her writing is so refreshingly authentic to her: quick, simple Hemingway-style sentences paired with Chelsea Handler brashness. This story is a great example of heightening the stakes to add tension to a small moment. Pay attention students!

A note on how to read the story: fast and frantic, maybe with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth.

Girls Get in Free

As a young club rat I abide by two rules; never wait in line, never pay. These rules are law.

It all started at The Jane Hotel, my favorite place on Earth. The place was chic, played the perfect music, and had a huge mirror ball. I am eighteen, my best friend and I have our sights set on Weekends at the Jane. Our goal is to become regulars, walk in without waiting in line, no cover charge, knowing we belong without a shadow of doubt.

Every other weekend we show up together, fake IDs in hand, and approach the door without waiting in line, just to see what happens. Eventually, by observing other party- goers, I come to realize that if you drop a name, any name, with enough conviction, they look at you and start a staring contest to see how real you are about this life... and then ultimately let you in.

So boom. We are now regulars at the Jane. I always greet my bouncer friend Malik with a hug and kiss as my bestie Cici gets free champagne bottles. Seriously, we would grab the bottle and run to another part of the club, laughing and dancing. To this day I don’t know how she was able to get those people to drop so much cash on us with nothing in return.

But now Cici is off at law school and I should grow up too. I’m twenty-two, a graduate, and it’s time for my last hurrah.

I convince my two best friends, Jay and Tyler, to come with me. Our first stop, Amsterdam, it’s hazy but beautiful. We are stoners taking long walks, going to museums but no party party.

Next stop, Barcelona. I’ve been to Barcelona exactly once before and met somebody named Fabian. I don’t know what he does or who he is. All I know is that he is based here and we are friends on Instagram. So boom boom. We go to a string of clubs on the beach, starting at Carpe Diem. They deny us, saying it’s closed for a private event. New York hat goes on, all logic goes out, and I turn to the bouncer, stare him in the eye and say, “I’m with Fabian.” He tells me again that it’s closed for a private event and I look him dead in the eye and say, “I am with Fabian.” Challenging him with these words, as if he will look like a fool when I call Fabian to get us. He slaps wristbands on us, no cover charge, and we’re off. Free drinks, free entry, no line. Tyler and Jay turn to me like I am a God and honestly I feel pretty fucking good about what I just did. Threw a hail mary and won the Super Bowl, and for the rest of the night those wrist bands got us into every single club or party on the beach. Barcelona; huge success.

Five days later we are in Berlin. A few summers ago I met these Swiss boys in a band, and while I was planning our trip I reached out to see if maybe they would like to host us. They ended up being on tour that summer, so we had their flat all to ourselves.

Berlin is special; the mecca of nightlife. All types of techno, all types of kink, all types of drugs. I mean, endless possibilities. A constant search for self through alternate states of being. Unlocking, unleashing, exploring and experimenting galore. And most importantly, Berlin is home to the most famous club in the world, Berghain.

Now TikTok/the internet has ruined many things, this is 2015. Berghain is still a mythology of techno underground, and Sven is the gatekeeper. Sven is the most famous bouncer in the world. He is tough, tatted and full of piercings. Scary to normies, but to us, a weird god-figure we need to impress.

We plan. We will go Friday at 10pm. This place was more mysterious than trendy. I knew it opened on Thursday and closed Monday morning. You could be there for four days without leaving. The wait to get in is three hours minimum and they are strict. They judge on looks and vibes, and my rules do not apply. I am one with the line. I am one with the people.

We get there around 11pm, joining the queue in what looks like an abandoned parking lot. Tyler, Jay and I huddle together, all excited. Tyler asks us what dark rooms we think we will be brought into. Jay says he doesn’t care as long as he’s in. We make our way forward and spot a vendor selling beer. Fairly sober at this point, we decide on some pints and have a laugh. Mid-cackle a man turns to us, looks at our beer and says “You better not get fucked up. One thing Sven hates even more than Americans are drunk people.” Noted. Our laughs simmer. A new seriousness is thrust upon us.

The guy turns around again. “She’s not getting in. You two maybe. You with the glasses, you’re more likely. Just plan for it. I’ve been here before. I know the energy.” “Okay” we stammer. Thanks for the unsolicited advice? This is the first time I was told being a woman would hinder my chances of getting into a club. A complete one-eighty in my mind. We stay together, I lead the way.

“Okay, he’s right, this is predominantly a gay club. They most likely do not want women here. So if you guys get in and I don’t, forget about me. I’ll hangout nearby. Stay as long as you want. I’ll find another party or go back. Just get in.”

Without hesitation Tyler and Jay agree. We are not fucking around.

“Okay, to optimize all of us getting in we ditch the alcohol toward the door. We stay quiet, and if they ask if we are together we say ‘No’. I will respond in a Greek accent, I think it will help my case, and you guys just do your best. We are strangers.”

We all nod in agreement. The plan is tight. It is solid. We are all dressed in fairly casual clothes, it doesn’t look like we’re trying too hard. No costumes. We don’t know exactly who’s playing tonight and they will quiz us at the door. I forget about it. Stick to our plan. The less detail the better.

We are close. We toss the bottles in a bin. The guy who told us I wouldn’t get in puts his hood on. We are all preparing.

“Remember guys, if you get in just go. I need to know what it’s like. Just for one of us to experience it will be enough.”

Then, silence.

People shuffle. No one is getting in. We see a leather mask step through and then a bunch of rejects.

We are getting to the front. The guy in front of us talks in German to Sven and is rejected. A little victory for me after he completely dogged on me unwarranted.

Tyler is up first. Cute nerdy glasses. Petite frame. Flower top. A silent exchange.

He’s in.

Then Jay. Young gay beautiful face.

In.

Then me, face to face with Sven. This would be enough for me. History made. Memory for life.

He looks at my ID, then straight into my eyes. I hold his stare. Straight face. No glitch. Cool. Calm. He looks at my trainers, black skinny jeans and black crop tank top. No bra.

He inhales. I remain steady. No deep breaths, just one cool stream of air flowing in and out my lungs.

Straight face. Strong brows. He hands me my ID.

I’m in.

4pm the next day, Lo-Fi filter, Berghain 2015