New Year’s Eve woooooooot!
So, last night, I figured, “What the hell, it’s New Year’s Eve, I’m going to hang out with my friends. Yeeeh!”
This was the non-tipsy, non-dazed version of me.
The Plan:
- Go pick up (female) friend
- Use bicycle to tranport us to friends
- Go clubbin’!
There were, at the start, several things wrong with The Plan:
- Picking up someone on New Year’s Eve when that person lives about 2 km from your house in an urban area with explosives all around without a working headlight and a very thick fog and fumes mixture is frankly not a very bright idea.
- Multiple persons makes things only a tiny bit safer
- I hate clubbin’
Here’s the official List Of Reasons I Hate Clubbin’:
- Café’s and clubs are in sections of town I don’t usually come
- There’s lots of people there
- That invade your very clearly defined personal space
- I mean LOTS of people
- Not drink alcohol means you are a pussy
- THE MUSIC IS SO LOUD YOU END UP USING YOUR PHONE AS A WRITING UTENSIL BECAUSE WHEN SOMEONE SHOUTS IN YOUR EAR YOU SIMPLY HEAR STATIC
- There’s a reason the fire department has rules about how many people can enter a club
- People! Lots of ‘em!
We went into the club at 1:30 AM and I was the first to go home at 4:30 AM.
Ofcourse, I tried to stay sober and just ordered cola’s, but, you knooooow, friends will be friends, so they gave me a “dropshot”.
It doesn’t work in English, but it’s a “shot” of “licorice”, that you “drop”, you see.
Basically it’s goddamn ethanol with a licorice taste.
I took a sip first, and it burned my lips and mouth, so I figured, what the hell!
And dropped the whole thing down my throat.
…where it burned everything as it went down.
Yeeeh, alcohol!
Like I said, there were WAY too many people inside, even when I left, and dancing was limited to “tapping my foot and OMG SOMEONE TOUCHED ME AGAIN”.
It was a fun learning experience.
And, you know, everything sounded like I was inside an aquarium when I came out and proceeded to go home.
I’m not doing that shit again, that’s for sure.
