The level of wit didn't extend much beyond a scrawled "insert penis here" followed by an arrow pointing to the vagina/anus/mouth of the victim. "I Love Cock" made several appearances, not to mention the ubiquitous "I'm gay".
This is why giving drunk people in a club an unlimited supply of Crayola pens is not a good idea.
Permit me to furnish you with the context.
20:04 - Thursday night
Nicki was late. It wasn't unexpected. I was in my nervous state I'm always in when people are late. Once it goes past two or three minutes I become extremely anxious and usually I'm not able to relax or think about anything other than the minutes leaking further and further from the time.
She turned up not long after. It's kind of like when I used to wait for a bus on a rainy winter morning, and it didn't turn up, and I'd be really angry. And as the time passed my rage become stronger to the point where I would think:
"I'm gonna have a go at the bus driver, he's so late".
But then when the bus turned up, I was so pleased to see it, I forgot all about being angry.
Not that I was angry with Nicki, just anxious, I think.
Will and I got in, and we started the epic journey to Joe's at 20:09.
20:10
We arrived at Joe's.
A brief exchange of pleasantries followed a discussion of the plan.
Curry, we could all agree, was going to be the ultimate highlight. However, there was certainly an air of reluctance to commit to going out afterwards.
Joe was saving money for the Verses tour starting soon. I had work in the morning. Will was going elsewhere. Nicki really wanted to go out to, what she described as some sort of club/bingo hyrbid which Mary was photographing and had put us on the guestlist.
At that point I was fairly convinced I wouldn't be going out.
I would consider it, but ultimately, I was fairly sure I was going to pansy out.
20:23
Joe drove, and we parked in George Street. Complaints were made about the cold weather, but it definitely wasn't cold. However, for the purposes of dramaticism, we will pretend Hove was sub-arctic that evening.
With the illumination of a large Tesco substituting poorly for the Aurora Borealis, we battled against the gusty winds until we reached the blissful relief of the Hove Tandoori curry house.
20:31
We were seated. The restaurant was smaller than I remembered it, but perhaps that was just becuase it was utterly packed. Infuriatingly small serving spoons did not detract from the quality of the chutneys or the raita. I had manly beer, whilst Will and Joe pansied out with coke. Nicki had a non-gender specific cider.
Nicki was particularly displeased with the lack of a ladies-first attitude when giving out the menu and drinks. Perhaps Indians are just more enlightened in terms of gender equality than we?
Nicki "signed herself in" to the restaurant on her new iPhone, giving any stalkers she may have, an easy time.
20:56 (I estimate)
Our main courses arrive.
Joe had a lamb dish that he had been raving about for the last millenia. Will disappointed me, as usual, by ordering vegetarian. Nicki had a Mermaid Korma (christened due to the gigantic, fantasty-size of the king prawns she had ordered). I had a Muglai Chicken.
Delicious, I must say. I tried a little of all their three, and they were really, really nice.
Using an "app" the aforementioned iPhone, we attempted to find out what music was playing in the background. Unfortunately "Generic Indian Restaurant Song" was not listed on the database.
21:25
I defeated my curry with ease, but the others didn't fair so well. Joe disappointed me the most with his failings.
Usually, once your done eating in an Indian restaurant, your waiter will remove your dishes and then immediately furnish you with a plastic package which, when opened, reveals a volcanic-hot mini-towel to "freshen" yourself.
The Hove Tandoori does things a little differently.
A small porcelain plate was placed in front of us, with what looked to me like 4 big white Refresher sweets (apparently they looked like marshmallows to Nicki). However, when boiling water was poured onto them, they sprang into life, erecting to their full height. With tongs and assurances that they were "very hot", our water placed one each in our hands.
It was those lava towels! NO PLASTIC PACKAGING.
I was highly impressed, let me tell you.
21:45
We paid and left the restaurant.
It was at this point that Joe admitted he would go out as long as we didn't stay out more than an hour or so.
This worked to my advantage, as I didn't want to let Mary's guestlist kindness down, but had no intention of going out for a whole night.
So we drove to Brighton's Churchill Square carpark, and Will ventured to the PavTav.
22:03
Walking to the seafront means go past Oceana. And going past Oceana means you have to go past people queueing to get into Oceana.
The queue itself feels like Groundhog Day. Everyone looks/smells/acts exactly the same. Male teenagers drenched in Lynx's newest flavour, wearing an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt and one of those studded-leather "Jesus Loves You" belts speaking with a semi-London accent. I don't think they could aggrovate me more if they tried.
We made it down to the seafront and made our best guess as to where Digital was. It wasn't far.
There was some initial confusion, as the guestlist-woman (I am unsure if there is a specific word to describe her, I don't think "bouncer" is correct. Maybe I'm being think?) was unable to locate our place on the guestlist.
An exasperated Mary was forced to come out and sort thing out, but we made it in eventually.
22:14
When we got inside we were immediately provided with a Crayola pen (mine was orange, I still have it) and a little bingo sheet thing.
People were using their Crayola pens in the manner I told of earlier.
22:44
After Killing In The Name played (which was the musical highlight of the night) a man took to the stage in a formal shirt and tie, and began a humorous skit about health and safety. The costume would have been much more realisitc had he not been wearing the cliched geek glasses, which have become fashionable amongst even those who have never heard of binary.
A little while into the skit, the host (as he shall he now be known) announced that tonight was "not about health and safety" because "we don't give a fuck about health and safety" and that tonight was about underground bingo. He was very charasamtic, and funny, and I think the concept of the night is very good. I would have really enjoyed it a couple of years ago.
The premise of the night was that inbetween dancing and drinking, the music would occasionally stop and bingo would be played until someone won. The prizes ranged from a soft toy panda to a HD video camera.
I didn't win anything. Even if I had I don't think I would have pushed my way through the crowd and claimed my prize.
23:32
We walked back to the car. We discussed how old we felt, and blamed the teenagers in the club for making us feel old. Near the carpark, Nicki said the immortal words:
"Are they having sex?"
I looked over to the alley where she was pointing. There were a set of stairs. A man was thrusting, and a pair of bare legs extended over his hips.
They were definitely having sex.
We didn't want to stare, so we carried on walking. When we pulled out of the carpark we tried to get a picture on the iPhone. I don't know how good the picture is, if it ever goes up on Facebook or something I'll add it.
Friday morning
It was sometime Friday morning I realise that I really have no interest left in the going-to-clubs thing. PavTav is fine, and if people want to do something it's not like I'm going to say no, but it just doesn't hold any interest for me. Not anymore.
It's not like it was that night's fault. The night seemed pretty good, and it's not like all the people were dicks or anything.
Just in terms of going out on the town, I'm not really interested in anything more exotic than seeing my friends and drinking to some music I at least remotely like.
Maybe that makes me boring.
But I don't mind.
I'll be boring.
Really liked this :)
ReplyDelete