On the outside, it's a boring looking box - building material enclosing a space, the interior, ripe for possibilities. I ride up the escalator, hear music playing, see lights flashing, the space is filled with stages, activities, people.
I weave through the crowds, looking for familiar faces, scoping out the layout, observing the scene, finding new friends. I'm reminded of a Malibu house party years prior. I retreated from those crowds. I found myself a balcony and watched the scene. Detached. It's what I want to do here, now. I tell myself my inner introvert was left back in the states, in my LA office. Besides, I don't live the same life twice. I decide to fully engage in the scene.
Movie scenes play in the back of my mind, memories of playa parties, Silicon Valley parties. We're all humans, despite the industry. I look for the meta-view. "Pull back camera," as Jodorosky says. I gather data. Observe. Wait. On the dancefloor, I pretend it's Bootie. The mashups are in my mind, while my body moves. I spill the wine.
The next morning, as I blear through customs and security finally arrive to the coffee shop. I dig in my wallet for the bill I won. I hand it to the cashier who hands it back to me. Not Canadian. I laugh. It's Euros. A 20 Euro bet, I would have done for the thrill. An exchange to display the courage to take a risk beyond the usual. A transaction.
I've converted/compressed the value of something that can not be exchanged on the stock market (in it's original form) into the binary exchange. Did I just exchange social capital/wuffie into Euros? I don't know.
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