The long awaited return of Rock Night is finally here! Its arrival came earlier than expected after plans to go to Wales for a friend’s birthday fell through. The few of us who could not go decided that instead of drying our tears, we’d dilute them with alcohol and ventured to the Crown & Treaty in order to do this. After months of not attending this notorious event, I was comforted to discover that nothing had changed. The bouncers were the same; the extortionately priced drinks were the same; the music, the people and the smell were all identical to how I remember. But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s start at the beginning shall we?
Recently I have transformed into one of those girls who finds it completely normal to wear hair that is not her own. So along with piling on and perfecting a face full of makeup, I now have the added task of attaching extensions onto my own hair and attempting to make it look as natural as possible. It is safe to say that this lengthens the time it takes me to get ready by a significant amount. No pain, no gain as the cliché goes. And the few extra inches my hair gains is definitely worth it. Feeling fabulous with my luscious locks in place, I slipped my feet into my most comfortable (and yet to be featured on my blog) black suede wedges and trotted out the door. It only came to my attention as I was walking along, adjusting my skirt with every few steps as it rode up, that the top I had tucked into it was actually longer than the skirt itself. If you’re an active reader of my blog you’ll surely know that dignity is something alcohol forced me to abandon a long time ago.
Preliminary drinking was partaken at the cheapest pub in town and here gathered a number of different people that I knew; darting from one table to another, with hello hugs and laughter slotted in between. It was unfortunate that everyone was not heading in the same direction; however it is always a treat to encounter the faces of people I’ve gone weeks without seeing.
Once adequately intoxicated we shuffled on down the high street. The pub was sufficiently packed and after purchasing our drinks we had to squash ourselves onto a bench. It’s always favourable for there to be hoards of people compared to emptiness, with the awkward quite only being broken by ones own voice and the odd tumbleweed floating by. So despite having to perch on the edge of a bench with one butt cheek hanging uncomfortably off the edge, I was not fussed.
For quite some time now there has been a pool table taking up a considerable amount of space in the beer garden, however I’ve yet to see it be treated as anything other than a place to perch ones bottom or to place ones drink. Tonight this piece of equipment would finally be put to good use as my boyfriend and friend went head to head in a drunken game of pool. I had complete faith in my boyfriend and other friends bet against each other as to who would win. We were all highly enthusiastic, but after a couple of minutes realised that the game was going to be a lot less interesting for us as it was going to be for those participating. To put it bluntly, we couldn’t be bothered to watch and ended up taking ourselves away from the monotonous activities. I would later find out that my boyfriend was not as successful as I had believed he would be, but I don’t care. He may have lost a game of pool but his masculinity will always be reimbursed by his ability to win me cuddly toys.
Predictably my lack of clothing meant that I soon became far too cold to stay outside and the group migrated to the warmth indoors and the heat that the body of head bangers produced. We settled ourselves behind the DJ booth. It was here that the camera was brought out.
Despite its recent downhill struggle, Myspace was previously one of the most widespread networking sites available; I admit I was an avid user all throughout my teenage years. There were constantly new trends circulating the Myspace community with only those in this population understanding the terms “pc4pc” or “w4w”. Undoubtedly the most notorious of all was the high angled default picture. Said angle is capable of obscuring the true appearance of the individual in the shot, distorting ones proportions, transforming the normal human body into a creature with an inflated head and minuscule body; often adopted by those of a larger nature and who have been blessed with an unfortunate face. My friend and I, in our drunken condition, decided that this would be the perfect time to try and replicate the Myspace picture. We tried our best and whether we were successful is debatable. Ultimately I believe it established our undeniably high level on the Hierarchy of Cool.
This, however, would be followed by playing Patty Cake, which may have been somewhat counterproductive after our previous efforts to look awesome; it did provide minutes of pure enjoyment though. After we’d exhausted ourselves with playground games we realised it was Kebab o clock and so left the vicinity to fulfil our cravings.
As I wandered out of the Kebab shop victoriously, the container of chicken, chips, salad, but mostly mayonnaise, weighing heavily in my palm, I stumbled across one of my sister’s closest friends. Any encounter with this young lady is one of joy, even more so when she is intoxicated. From what I can remember (and could decipher from her drunken slurs at the time) she’d been kicked out of some-club-or-other and was now sitting elegantly outside a Subway. It brings me comfort to know that in three years time I won’t have abandoned my reckless ways and will be exactly like her.
We finally made it to the cab office and were taken home and our first summer Rock Night was complete.
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