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// Five Types 
// Story: Alienation 
// by Longtooth 
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“The first thing you’ve gotta know are the five ponies who come to a club,” Vinyl said, taking a sip from the drink she’d ordered us both. I sampled it as well, finding it to be something Berry had introduced me to as a good starter. Not too alcohol-heavy, more tasty like juice than anything else, but deceptively effective. I approved.

“There are a lot more than five ponies here,” I pointed out. 

“Five types of ponies,” Vinyl amended. “You got your party animals.” She indicated a group of ponies who were thrashing about on the dancefloor with little to no semblance of rhythm. “They’re here to cut loose and do whatever. These guys’ll go all night, but only as long as they’re having fun. You give them too long of a lull and they’ll bounce. They’ll drink and maybe do some of the other stuff, but that’s not what they’re here for. Give ‘em some cranked bass and they’ll be the first on the dance floor and the last to leave.”

“Alright,” I said, a distant part of me wishing I had a notebook.

“Then you got your socializers.” This time she cocked her head to a table full of ponies drinking and chatting. They didn’t look like anything special to me. “They just want to be around friends. They’ll stick around if their buddies stick around, and that’s it. Yeah, they’ll drink; yeah, they’ll smoke up or take some of the light drugs, but only because everypony else is doing it. Get too many of them together and they’re this frikkin hive-mind, true creepy. If they’re broken up into little groups, like here? They’re cool. They’ll dance to whatever, but they work best with something they can get a groove goin’ to. Slow music’s good with them, they like to pair up.

“After that you got the addicts. They’re here because they need to be, they got something driving them to it. Some are here for the booze, some are here for the hard stuff. Some just can’t get the music out of their blood. These guys can look like party animals or socializers, but watch them long enough and you can tell. These guys will be the ones pushing the socializers into buying another round or staying later. But their first concern is that they get their fix. Hard to pick a playlist for, you gotta know their drug of choice to get their preferences.

“Then there’s ponies like me,” Vinyl chuckled. “I’m a watcher. I’m here for the scene. I get my kicks by watching them get theirs. A lot of DJ’s are watchers, except those who are strictly in it for the music, and they’re addicts. We work the bar like the socializers, but we’ll dance like a party animal, and leave when things get too boring. We’ll like any beat that plays to the crowd.

“The trick for you is figuring out which of these groups is yours. Once you get that down, you’ll start to see some real fun.”

“You said there were five types,” I pointed out. “What’s the fifth?”

Vinyl snorted. “That’d be the wolves.” She bobbed her drink towards a pony wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with the hood up stood talking to another pony. As they watched, the other pony gave the hooded one a few bits, and received a small white package in turn. “They’re in here to make money, and screw the music.”

“Was that a drug deal?” I asked. 

“Yeah, and a pretty brassy one,” Vinyl confirmed. “Probably selling some fizz or something else practically innocent. Still, one off-duty Guard in here and he’d be shafted.”

“Does that happen a lot in clubs?” From Spike’s list I knew that drugs could be had, but I’d assumed it was a much more involved process. That had looked almost like any transaction in the Ponyville market. I wondered if it really was that easy.

“Depends on the club,” Vinyl replied. “This one? Yeah, it’s got a bit of that. You go down to Jack Trade’s and you practically can’t walk three steps without somepony trying to sell you some black crystal. Don’t worry about it, they won’t bother you here.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I think… you said it’s almost innocent? Maybe I could try some.”

She let out a low whistle. “Diving into it whole hog, huh? Watch out, girl, a change of pace can always mean going from a run to a dead stop, and that usually only happens when you hit a wall.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Chill. You want to try something? I’ll hook you up, but don’t go looking for it until you know what you’re doing, alright?” She seemed genuinely concerned, even lifting up her shades so she could look me in the eye.

I nodded. “No problem. I’ll take it slow.”

She smiled. “Just had to warn you, ya know? Not that I thought Twilight Sparkle would get into that kind of trouble.” Which meant, of course, that now I had to.