Getting into some monkey business

My final stop on my birthday night of barhopping in Hilton Head was Monkey Business.

When I asked people where to find a raucous club, everyone suggested Monkey Business.

We arrived at Monkey Business Electric Piano about 11 p.m. Inside, a man played piano and sang, and a drunk older woman stood on her chair and sang loudly. I walked through a thicket of people who ranged from Baby Boomers to one-foot-in-the-grave and headed to the bathroom. After surveying the crowd, I decided it was going to be an early night.

I snapped a few pictures and turned to catch up with my girlfriend. A man old enough to be my grandfather had snagged her near the door and was begging her to go home with him. He told her if she went home with him, he'd have a great night. He must have had a pocket full of Viagra and a defibrillator under his bed.

I howled with laughter, and thought about all of the readers who angrily dissed me about my Richard Gere column.

Outside of that Monkey Business, we noticed another club on the right tucked into the corner. Rap music blasted from speakers. It was the Monkey Business. With the exception of Mr. Contacts (read about him in other blog posts), my girl and I, and a group of Asian guys, the club was predominately white. It was smokey from fog machines, and a DJ played top 40 hip-hop. It wasn't crowded, but the vibe was fun. Large groups of friends mostly danced together, and couples watched from tables near the bar.

The club's clientele reminded me of my visit to Soho East/Daisy Dukes in the University Area. After about a half-hour, I was ready to go. Monkey Business is fine for a resort like Hilton Head, but I preferred people-watching in the courtyard area better.