Sunday, May 10, 2009

Rage, Rage Against The Dying Of Light

I thought I got out of that whole late night clubbing notion, except when there are my favourite DJs playing in town, usually in Zouk for that matter. Did I mention Zouk is my favourite club? Well now you know.

On a typical Saturday night, I fancy myself cuddling up in the couch or bed, reading a book or listening to some music, spending a rejuvenating evening all to myself. I treasure my weekends now since it is the only time I really get to forget all about work and prepare for next week's battle. Maybe I wouldn't have minded a go at the film theatre since there is something I really want to watch. The idea of clubbing scares me - the throes of people who are determined to mow down any obstacle on their way to alcohol and the dance floor and that includes you, the drunken louts who unconsciously or consciously become insufferably rude or horny or both and of course the young ladies who lose all decorum after rounds of drinks and are incapable of taking care of themselves. But worst of all, worst of all, the ridiculously long queues at the bar, making a girl without alcohol, namely me, really upset.

Now on this atypical Saturday, I was feeling a sense of bereavement at staying home, facing the walls and the boredom that envelopes me threatened to suffocate me and so I hurriedly dressed, invited myself to someone's house (just give me anywhere with people!) and followed on with clubbing. And if there is one thing that is even worse than what I consider is the worst of having to queue absurdly long for alcohol, it is the snaky queues right outside the club I thought I was about to go. Nothing can save you from these sensible people queuing up to get maniacal with a combination of music, crowd and a wholesome liquid diet.

There were three queues - VIP, Table Reservation & Guestlist and the Paying. Even the paying folks with money to spend have little hopes of getting in till much much later when the mood has gone sour. I am perfectly guilty at nepotism when I saw him and leeched onto him till I breezed my way through at least 80 people just fifteen minutes after arrival. I just wanted to go into the club!

I won't follow on with what I did because I was doing the perfectly normal and hence provide no fodder for gossip. Yes, there was dancing involved but not too dirty. There was alcohol in jugs, there were moments I sneaked into the Smoking Zone for a long-needed puff and under the influence of the jolie petit fleur, she made me dance with total male strangers who are not hot. It's not that I am superficial but I don't think they are sincere enough to be friends. I met acquaintances, ex-classmates, coworker in the space of a dance floor and it's like everyone has decided to come out to rejoice in the Dark Night.

The night was moving along splendidly - the relative darkness of the room, there were too many people that everyone became inconsequential, the alcohol-induced senses was lured to transform into something darker and more sinister, the pretense of they who were coquettish but unwilling to take the first step, they who are emboldened by the proximity of Desire well within touch and the smiles of Goddesses encouraged their baser instincts into immediate, rapid advances to attack and devour the sweetness of their beings, claiming a union of souls and gratification.

I was an instant party girl when the sweet drinks wetted my lips and flowed down my throat in a desperate measure to uninhibit me. I was flitting in and out of the dance floor. There were so much to watch, observe and snigger at. Everyone is human afterall and we are all having a go at what we are necessary for - to procreate. For me, I am not going to be hypocritical and declare that I am a patron saint amongst the sinned or say that the halo of light just inches above my very messy hair shines a path to illumination but I am always waiting around for the Right One because I am either old-fashioned or cynical. And that's where everyone scored where I fail. I care too damn much about the morning after.

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posted by The Merry Traveller at


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