Now, that I have got my profound reflections on the end of 2019 and the beginning of 2020 out of the way, I can move on the more flaky stuff like my first night out in Bristol, and my first night out in four years. When I was making plans for NYE with a friend, I was hoping that the plan would be us hanging out at her apartment with her housemate. But both she and her housemate were eager to go out. I was hoping that we would spend most of our time in their apartment and step out for a short walk around midnight, but I realised that was not to be when I reached their place and saw them both decked up to the nines.
But, it was NYE so I resolved to be a sport about it. When we reached their regular waiting hole there was barely anyone and both of them looked disappointed. I didn't care either way. But the live Irish band was good and after midnight the cloud started tricking in. Eventually, we made it to the dancefloor. Back in Holland, which is the last time in life that I went partying, I was always a reluctant dancer because many of my friends were Latino and I felt like a golem next to them. I am a pretty decent dancer but only to Bollywood music. In England, though, the men are terrible dancers, so I didn't feel very conscious as I stepped on to the dance floor. It was fun but I couldn't let myself go. I was aware that I was the only man of colour and felt that I had to be on my guard. It would have been different if I was with a large group of friends, but I wasn't and my antenna was tuned to catch the first signs of hostility. Even if I got hit, at least I wouldn't be caught unawares.
No night out in England is complete without a bar fight, and sure enough there was one. When the clock struck three, the creepy men crawled out of the woodwork to prey on inebriated girls. We left shortly after.
All in all, my night out was fun, but mostly so because I hadn't been out in years, and knew that I might not go out partying again for a few years.
But, it was NYE so I resolved to be a sport about it. When we reached their regular waiting hole there was barely anyone and both of them looked disappointed. I didn't care either way. But the live Irish band was good and after midnight the cloud started tricking in. Eventually, we made it to the dancefloor. Back in Holland, which is the last time in life that I went partying, I was always a reluctant dancer because many of my friends were Latino and I felt like a golem next to them. I am a pretty decent dancer but only to Bollywood music. In England, though, the men are terrible dancers, so I didn't feel very conscious as I stepped on to the dance floor. It was fun but I couldn't let myself go. I was aware that I was the only man of colour and felt that I had to be on my guard. It would have been different if I was with a large group of friends, but I wasn't and my antenna was tuned to catch the first signs of hostility. Even if I got hit, at least I wouldn't be caught unawares.
No night out in England is complete without a bar fight, and sure enough there was one. When the clock struck three, the creepy men crawled out of the woodwork to prey on inebriated girls. We left shortly after.
All in all, my night out was fun, but mostly so because I hadn't been out in years, and knew that I might not go out partying again for a few years.
No comments:
Post a Comment