So last Saturday night, we went to a club, a thing I haven’t done for the past few years. Well actually, there was this impromptu incident one weekend when a client paid for a table with a huge bottle of champagne which I just couldn’t resist. Come to think of it though, it is the same case as well last Saturday, I was invited by a friend to join her consume free alcoholic drinks until 1am. I’d be a fool to decline it.
Off we went to Velvet Underground, formerly known as Elegante at the Royal Ascot Hotel in Bur Dubai. The club was fantastic, with high ceilings (which doesn’t give you that suffocating feeling) and good music. We went there at 11pm, a tad too early for clubbers these days apparently as we were the only ones there. The service at first was very slow, we probably pissed off the servers for arriving early but it slowly picked up as soon as the club gets filled up which was at about half past midnight. Being a Saturday though which is practically like going out on a Sunday night in the rest of the world, there were a lot of people but not enough to fill the whole venue.
If I was in my *ahem* younger years, I would have enjoyed the place extremely. I’d probably be drunk by the end of the first hour and will be the first (if not the only) on the dancefloor dancing all my stress away. But the years have crept up and took ahold of me, I became a wallflower. Sitting on our VIP seats looking at the young boys trying to hook up with the young girls and telling myself, “I used to be that crazy girl!” I couldn’t handle the loud booming of the speakers anymore, it gave me a throbbing headache the next day and made me go deaf for about 10minutes after we got out of the club. I don’t get the idea of going clubbing anymore. I mean what do you really get after getting wasted in a club? You wouldn’t remember anything anyway the next day. All’s that’s left is the hazy memory of you throwing up in a car park somewhere and the only reason why you remembered it was because a friend of yours took a photo of this unfortunate event. You’ll have blisters on your feet for wearing those sexy high heels all night long and a pocket with lesser money than it already had even before you went out. Good time with friends? Sure, yeah! But you can also get that in a pub or a bar or a lounge with a calmer music where you can hear each other without screaming to your friend’s ears and where you wouldn’t look stupid if you’ll just sit in a cozy couch the whole night.
To make this long story short, I have faced my feared reality last Saturday night: I am too old to go clubbing. A phrase which I didn’t expect to hear myself say, not in another 20 or so years.
I leave you now with a short video of one of the gimmicks in the club, a dancer wearing a sequined costume which reflects back the light from the stage. To blind the people on the dancefloor I guess.