Brasil's Salsa Lessons

Deets: 9 p.m., $5. Brasil's Nightclub, 112 Chestnut St., 215-413-1700.

The Skinny: Grab your partner, get your learn on with Brasil's experts, then tear it up salsa-style until 2 a.m. After an hourlong lesson, you'll be ready to haircomb and hammerlock until you drop. Shake it fast and loose but watch for flying elbows — salsa pileups are imminent with dancers spinning like dervishes over two packed dance floors.

Who You'll See: Lightning-fast salsa professionals and label-clad yuppies that only think they can dance. Be both impressed and appalled while platform heels and pink oxfords loop and bend beneath a disco ball and greenish mood lighting.

What You'll Do: Step to the left, step to the right, twirl twirl twirl and dance until your toes are crushed by an army of Manolos.

Why Bother: ÁLas mujeres latinas, por supuesto!

Deets: 9 p.m., free. Upstairs at The Khyber, 56 S. Second St., 215-238-5888.

The Skinny: Groove to indie classics (The Smiths, Le Tigre), electroclash anthems (Peaches) and hip-hop heavyweights (Jay-Z, Tribe). DJs AJ Ready Right and Julie keep the dance floor hot while weird crap like instructional b-boy videos are projected behind them.

Who You'll See: Oh-so-affected rockers in grandma sweaters and Chucks struggling to keep the beat while smoking hand-rolled ciggies. Also slumming it: Jock jammers there for the drink specials and pseudo-goths who couldn't afford the cover at Shampoo.

What You'll Do: Down $1 Pabst and $2 Sparks until you start shouting a Lil' John "Okay!" to Joy Divison's "She's Lost Control." Collect MySpace handles.

Why Bother: Cheap beverages and haircut sociology.

Deets: 10 p.m., free. Buffalo Billiards, 118 Chestnut St., 215-574-7665.

The Skinny: Rack 'em up in Old City's only pool hall offering half-price burgers and an upstairs DJ. Unlike most dive pool halls, this is surprisingly clean and well lit. (Something of a drawback when the beer-breath macho guy is cursing a scratched cue ball.)

Who You'll See: Buttoned-up suburbanites in backward baseball caps and shiny loafers, big-haired girls in cleavage tops bent over the table like just so, and the occasional trash-picking, coke-snorting hipster.

What You'll Do: Play pool, dummy. After your hands are red with chalk, take a turn at poker on a nearby card table, get jiggy with the DJ upstairs or pop a quarter in the jukebox for Biz Markie's brilliant cover of "Bennie and the Jets."

Why Bother: No one will beat your face in when you win.

Deets: Midnight, free. Lounge 125, 125 S. Second St., 215-351-9026.

The Skinny: This swanky after-hours club is a visual assault in red velvet and Clockwork Orange lighting and features DJs spinning ultra-repetitive jams until 3:30 a.m. Members are the only ones who can drink, so arrive ready to schmooze (having tits helps) or sign up beforehand to feel like the V.I.P. party animal your mother always accused you of being.

Who You'll See: People with better jobs than you, ex-ravers who traded their glowsticks and candy necklaces for martinis and bling-bling chains and the occasional Eagles player.

What You'll Do: Stand around the under-lit bar feeling ugly and unwanted while local B-list celebs hobnob and dry hump to "soulful house."

Why Bother: It's 3 a.m. and the Republican's strippers make pre-TrimSpa Anna Nicole look hot.