Bright splashes of neon light singe my eyes despite the surrounding darkness in the club, making me squint as my head continues to throb.
Fluorescent hues of pink, green, yellow, purple and every other color you can think of shine brightly as they dance over the furniture, upholstery, and patrons—several of whom are completely intoxicated now.
The multicolored confetti of light emanates from glow sticks, pseudo flames, lava lamps, and disco balls; all spilling, intersecting, and meshing into each other over the club’s refined interior.
The vivid, diverse lighting beautifully illuminates the mega-mansion that is Rubies, bringing the extreme expanse of architecture to life. It’s almost as if the place is a living thing itself; a moving, breathing, organism, an interconnected web of magical building blocks held together by some sort of indescribable and vivacious force.
Like an unlisted wonder of the world.
But despite its beautiful infrastructure, the flashing lights, and the amped up House music, something is terribly off. The ambience isn’t the way it normally is. The usually lively club seems anything but alive tonight.
And, strangely enough, that’s precisely how I feel.