Read part one here.
Finally, I spotted my friends getting into the club ahead of me and I knew that they’d immediately be running for the bathroom. I wasn’t mad. I didn’t expect them to plait their legs and wait for me to finally join the queue 🙂 where I could pay the entry fee.
A note on entry fees: They’re stupid and I do my very best not to ever pay them. Sometimes I even succeed.
When I paid the entry fee 🙂 and got into the club, the hunt began to find my friends, but first I had to pee. I navigated my way to the bathrooms down in the basement 🙂 of the club and was confronted with a queue that I swear was almost the size of the one I’d just left :). I summoned all my strength to both hold my bladder and to not scream into the massive crowd in front of me and I’m proud to say that I succeeded.
I also managed not to scream when a very intoxicated girl in front of me turned around and gazed up at me with a cheesy grin. Internally I thought “please don’t speak to me right now because I’ve always thought myself capable of murder and there’s a very realistic possibility that you could be my first victim :).” Externally I smiled back at her as genuinely as I could.
“How tall are you?” She asked. I told her and she grabbed her friend’s arm. “She’s six foot three,” she exclaimed loudly and her friend also gazed up at me. “You’re like a warrior princess,” she informed me. I’ve been called many things in my time but this was definitely a first.
I couldn’t speak for fear that I’d spit fire so I didn’t reply, only smiled down at her. I was so tense that my shoulders were up to my ears and my hands were clutching my handbag so tightly that I expected to open it later and find only sand within.
I finally got the relief of using the bathroom and was able to leave. I took a breath for the first time in twenty minutes and felt the purple draining from my face. Now that all this waiting was over, my night could finally get started. If I needed to pee again I’d just run out to the road. That’s the advantage of an unwanted penis, yes?
I left the bathroom and walked back towards the dancefloor, ready to find my friends, apologise for my earlier moaning and begin to finally feel relaxed. I located the stairs up from the basement and realised that I’d have to queue once again :).
Yes that’s right. I had to queue for a stairs :):):).
So while I was queuing for 20 MINUTES :), I felt my old friend depression descend upon me in a rather intense manner. Except this time, as he occasionally does, depression descended upon me in the form of another old friend, rage. I was furious. Furious with myself for going on this night out, furious with my friends for bringing me, furious with all of the Geoffs milling around giving out to people and furious with all of the students.
I cursed these students in every way I knew how.
“I hope your colleges burn down.”
“I hope the government cuts whatever financial benefits you’re getting.”
“I hope you all get alcohol poisoning tonight.”
Then I took it all back because these were awful things to wish on people (also, I avail of a student benefit from the government so that was a stupid thing to wish).
After my twenty minutes that I spent reaching boiling point, I reached the top of the stairs 🙂 and saw one of my friends. She was very relieved to find me (and she was also incredibly drunk). I looked at her apparent intoxication and felt a stab of envy. Between vomiting 🙂 and burning off any alcohol with my intense rage, I felt that I was the most sober I’d been since birth.
She informed me that she couldn’t find our other friend anywhere, but I couldn’t find it within me to give a crap. “I don’t care!” I told her. “I’m leaving,” I announced before turning on my heel, marching through the packed 🙂 club and walking out the front door. I was just about to hail a taxi when my conscience kicked in.
I sighed, took a deep breath of the cool air outside the club and turned back towards the door. Marching through the club past people doing shots, past a dance floor that was so packed 🙂 full of people that they were squished up against the railings, past numerous people kissing, screaming 🙂 and looking as though they were enjoying themselves, I located my friend, still standing helplessly where I’d left her.
Except now she had another one of our friends with her. He smiled at me and greeted me warmly but I just grunted out a “hi” before turning back to my friend. I apologised to her for snapping and we teamed up to try and locate our missing friend :). The boy (he is a really kind soul who didn’t hold my rudeness against me) enquired why I was so tense.
“I HAD TO QUEUE TWENTY MINUTES FOR A STAIRS,” I screamed in his ear over the music :). He looked at me with knowing eyes and (sensibly) did not tell me to “calm down” or something similar. Finally, we located our missing friend on a balcony (in her defence, she was very drunk, something I can forgive if it’s not consistently impacting on our relationship) and with the two girls reunited, I was finally happy to leave.
I said a very brief goodbye to everyone, stonily ignoring their attempts to convince me to stay and dramatically exited the club (for the second time).
I stepped over a girl who was puking 🙂 on the street (she had a friend with her) and hailed a taxi. I was seething on the journey home, refusing to say anything that wasn’t mono-syllabic to my taxi driver. I gathered up my stuff, stepped out of the taxi, went through the front door of my building and marched up the stairs.
There are a series of long corridors that lead to my apartment lined with the most glorious wooden flooring which is extremely satisfying to stomp along. As I reached my door after marching noisily through the building (and probably waking every other tenant up in the process) I instantly felt calmer.
“Oh,” I thought, “I just wanted to be at home.” Even if all of those horrible things hadn’t happened to me, I think I would have just wanted to be in my own space that night. After a long week I had finally learned a lesson that I suspect the world has been trying to teach me on numerous occasions.
Nights out aren’t the easiest thing to enjoy. They’re supposed to be relaxed, carefree occasions in places that you enjoy with people that you enjoy (this night out only had the latter). You can’t really squeeze them into a stressful and busy week only to feel surprised that they’re not as enjoyable as you expected.
Finally home, I got into bed and vowed to be a lot more picky about my nights out. I felt my depression begin to ease as I drifted from consciousness. It would probably still be there in the morning, but a few hours’ sleep would give me an escape.
In case you’re wondering, before getting into bed I sent my friends a text telling them that I was sorry I had to leave and letting them know how to get into my apartment that night. The next morning I chatted to them and discovered that for different reasons, they also had what you could describe as nightmarish nights.
I have to admit, although I sympathised with them, I did feel a little 🙂 at that.
What? I’m only human.
Read about times that I experienced disrespect here.
Watch how I block out negativity below: