Claiming our places in the newly formed sardine can, I looked around. Dissimilar to a couple of hours previously, the nicely spaced smoking area had become a compact, messy cattle-market, moist with side-glances when somebody new dared to enter the area. We went outside to intake some much needed nicotine. He couldn’t hear us, we couldn’t hear him, and my sobriety was creeping back like a headache on speed. After fighting our way through the plastic and the fake tan, we finally got to give the barman our order. We went to the bar, which was surrounded by what looked like a Ken Doll convention. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the room became packed.
The music was just what I wanted to hear Britney Spears, Céline Dion, Christina Aguilera, Beyoncé and the Spice Girls drew me to the dance floor like a mermaid to a ship, and I shook my money maker like there was no tomorrow! Everything was going great, but then, something happened: I opened my eyes. A couple of tequila shots later and I was way on my way to becoming merry. Upon arriving, I deposited my beloved satchel to the cloakroom and headed to the bar. She was convinced that he wanted her, and I was convinced that he wanted me (For the record, she’s totally wrong).įuelled with burgers and whiskey in our bellies, we trundled off to the gay bar. It is worth pointing out that at the time of me and my friend (who is female) sitting down for our meal, we were both ever so slightly under the influence of alcohol, and were both convinced that the hot Latino waiter wanted us. I just wanted to see if I still had it, or rather if I still wanted that lifestyle.
MEAT MARKET CHICAGO GAY BAR FOR FREE
Yes, yes, it was my idea that we go to Soho for a couple of drinks, which turned into more than a couple of drinks, which then led to us sitting in a burger joint, flirting with the hot Latino waiter for free shots of whiskey (my friend had vodka). That is, until I found myself waiting in a que to get into the busiest, most popular gay bar in England. Not once did I think that I was actually going to attend a nightclub. I told my friend that I was going to spend my birthday weekend with her in London and that we could mill around the city by day and party hard by night.
I’m clever enough to say it early so that people will forget that I had even mentioned it in the first place. Every year when it starts to get closer to my birthday, I talk the talk and tell everyone that I will organise some big event and celebrate the night taking shots of vodka through the eyeball and twerking it out until the wee hours of the morning. BAM! Just like that! Last I checked I was 21 and fresh-faced, before I found the joy of chain-smoking and coffee-binges at midnight (I’m so rock and roll that it hurts). Consider myself proved wrong.Ī few weeks ago, I turned 26.
Apparently things start to appear differently to you and you start to prefer sipping tea, watching ‘the X Factor’ on a Saturday night, as opposed to hitting the town. According to every smart-arse, it’s all downhill when you reach your mid-twenties.