Chapter Thirty-One: Club, A First Experience Story (~jinghan)

Note from the Author: Written on and about a Thursday five Thursdays ago. Only one of the previous statements is true.

Not the sort for hitting people over the head with. Not the sort you find in a deck of cards. Not even the sort where people come together because of some common hobby or culture…

Shivering in the midnight streets of South Melbourne with the unfamiliar rub of nylon stockings between my thighs and nothing on me but my driver’s licence, a phone and some cash, I was standing there in front of a – that’s right:

A night club.

Okay, some of that is a lie. Me and my friends, we weren’t quite in front of the night club yet, we were about 20 meters down the road. My friend was changing into her heels and ahead of us was an intimidating looking crowd of indiscernible young people surrounded by what looked like temporary fencing puffing away at little white things in what I later realised was the smoking area outside the club.

The actual club (from the outside) was nothing more than a grundgy looking door with some couldn’t-care-less people propped outside. This wasn’t really what my first impression was. I was too busy trying to be enthusiastic and optimistic about this – my first experience of a night club that is.

Oh right, why am I here? One of my friends got it into her head that one should not be twenty and have not yet experienced a night club. And to be fair, I had been curious for a long time.

The couldn’t-care-less people looked at our ID in a couldn’t-care-less way. And we walked into a even grundgier looking foyer and passed coins and our belongings through a mere gap in the wall that was supposedly the cloak room, but really looked like the backside of a stage prop. This wasn’t what I really thought at the time. I was too busy trying to be enthusiastic and optimistic.

After that we edged, hesitantly glancing at each other, into a possibly grundgier room (it was too dark to see) full of people, alcohol and mind throbbing music – that I later realised wasn’t really music but was just noise. But I didn’t think that at the time because i was too busy trying to be enthusiastic and optimistic.

I think in films and fantasies people glide into a club and are approached by interesting people and whisked away into the social atmosphere. I can only describe what we did as aimless wandering. Also, some of the  people looked underaged. Or perhaps that was just their behaviour that made me feel old? There was this look-at-me feel in the air that I was sure I had out grown when I was 15. And even then I had found look-at-me people intimidating, you know the sort I mean: the girls with enough eye make up to anchor a ship and the such. No wonder people feel the need to drink so much when they go out. The look-at-me intimidation was bloody suffocating.

Oh yeah I did drink. I ended up buying a beer. Corona Extra – I chose it because it looked pretty and the only communication that was possible was point and nod. I found out it had cost me $9.50 when I got my change back.

Oh, did I mention I’d never drunk a whole beer before?

The bartender had wedged a lime into the top of the bottle. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with it so in the most awkward fashion possible I slid the whole lime into my mouth until my lips enclosed glass and tipped the bottle back a little. It didn’t taste half bad, actually. It was only when I had to slide that whole lime wedge back out of my mouth that it started to feel awkward.

I squiggled the lime into the neck of the bottle, and it was my friend for the next hour. Somehow having the cold glass bottle in my hand and the tangy fizzy beer in my throat made it okay for me to not care. I don’t mean, be drunk and not care about what I’m doing. I mean, not care about what those look-at-me sort people are up to and would think of you. (I mean, when you wonder what those look-at-me people are thinking of you, then you’ve fallen for the trap.)

The beer was flat and warm after an hour so I didn’t end up drinking it all.

After some less-aimless sitting, drinking and “talking” we decide to hit the dance floor. (Oh and just to clarify: “talking” is different to talking – the latter happens when there is no blaring music harassing one’s ear drums.)

Now this was the part I was curious about, because I like dancing. I like being a little un-self-consciously-crazy when some good music is coursing through my veins.

Yeah, well, forget about that, what I assumed was their idea of music was really repetitive noise. My friend had brought ear plugs because she was a speech pathology student and knew too much about loud noises and damaged hearing – we thought she was pretty dorky at the time, but in retrospect I regret not accepting her offer. Is that a permanent ringing in my ears? Oh and that’s definitely a mighty crack in my belief that I can never get bored of music so long as I can dance to it.

Of course I didn’t think this at the time, I was trying too hard to be enthusiastic and optimistic. We were there to have a good time after all and I didn’t want to shoot the bird before I got a chance to fly. Don’t get me wrong, we sort of did have a good time, hanging out with good friends and having new experiences together.

But the club didn’t make as much a contribution as I had imagined.

It was a mere 2am when we left, a little dazed and a little relieved. And I have to say I’ve gotten “I want to know what clubbing is like” out of my system. Not to be regretted, but no hurry to be repeated. So there you go: my first clubbing experience.

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For a fun tutorial on how to go clubbing, pick up cute accountant chicks and legos check out this awesome short film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXOxOB-xjpA