Packed with people dancing to Afrobeat rhythms featuring drummers, "painted ladies" and colorful characters, Saturday's tribute to the music of Fela and Afrobeat culture at D.C.'s The Warehouse was a "must get sweaty" situation.

More after the jump.

There is a certain point when you've met so many people that you don't know who you've met anymore. And you've gone so many places you don't know where you've been anymore. I've reached my name-to-face memory maximum in my visits to Washington, D.C., but I plow through the friendly faces anyway and do my best to recall who is who and who is connected to what. My friend and tour guide to Afrobeat culture was burning up the dance floor as always while the bass and drum heavy music stimulated both my movements and my anxieties. Rather than stay a wallflower, I went into documentary mode and chronicled the evening with a series of photographs.

While at The Warehouse, I also visited The Loft, another venue in the same building, where I jotted down the following observation:

"Why is there a giant sleigh bed in the middle of this club?"

The Loft is essentially someone's tricked out, super plush BoHo bachelor pad - random metal stripper pole included. One part bedroom, one part living room, one part bar. It was there, as always, I was hit on by the one old man in the club, who had the gall to ask if I was gay after I turned him down on an offer of breakfast. Then he got mad and harrumpffed his way away. What is it with the old guy at the club? And what is it with certain men who think that because they talked to you you owe them something. I'd already said no to him earlier when he offered to buy me a drink. If I'm turning down free beverages, I'm obviously NOT INTERESTED. So it wasn't like I told him to embarrass himself and go for seconds in asking me to breakfast.

But this is the story of my life as I've been told I'm nice to people I have no business being nice to (it's the Midwest in me, I assume). So it's easy for people to mistake my polite nature (I'll turn you down with a smile!) with interest. Perhaps I need to perfect my mean mug to ward of any undesirables.