Monday, 7 September 2009
Trying to mix it with the kids, part 2
Yesterday was a write-off. I accomplished nothing. The older I get the longer it takes to process the excesses of the night before. At around 8pm, after taking enough painkillers to render me clinically dependent, I managed to remove myself from the couch and get some food. But the worst thing is that I was paying for an experience that I didn’t enjoy. I haven’t been to a proper nightclub for as long as I can remember, and all Saturday night’s trip to Fez Club in Putney did was remind me why this was. It was unbelievably crowded – claustrophobic, even. There were so many people on the dancefloor that no one was actually dancing, just shuffling from foot to foot and spilling their drinks all over my shoes. Occasionally some kid with a haircut would sidle over to some girl and grind desperately behind her until she either told him to fuck off or stuck her arse out in reciprocation. It was almost primal. It was like watching dogs sniff each others' arses – on a multicoloured dancefloor. As hard as I tried, and as drunk as I got, I couldn’t have a good time. It’s pretty poor, really. I’m only 31.