Last Friday night, as a social experiment, I decided to try this sober-partying thing for a change. I ventured out into the night jungle with my friends to one of my favorite hot spots; 360.
The Experiment
I had heard from others that partied sober that they literally got drunk on the vibe and the atmosphere, and I was curious to see whether I could experience this phenomenon for myself.
The first few minutes were a little nerve wracking. Friends and acquaintances were already decently tipsy and were starting to lose their elegant dance with gravity. I, on the other hand, stood among these swaying masses as stiff as a tree.
I had to deal with the question “Why aren’t you drinking?” being slurred into my ear. Then came a few “OMG! Are you pregnant?!” comments which really made my night.
After assuring said inquiring minds that the bloat was probably just gas, I tried to enjoy myself. This wasn’t hard; the music was great (Nice7 were tearing the proverbial ‘it’ up on the decks).
I closed my eyes for a few seconds and let the beat in, and soon found myself smiling and oscillating in unison with the drunken hordes around me.
The first 2 hours of this experience were pleasant; I felt like I got a decent work out, no one seemed to notice that I was an imposter and I actually did feel a little inebriated.
However, as the night wore on, and the masses continued consuming drinks, the gap between our wavelengths got considerably wider. I remember the exact moment I lost my buzz; some drunken cow masquerading as a desirable female sunk her heel into my foot and gave me a look as if I was in her way.
The Deluge
One hour prior to the club closing, things got unbearable. Parents don’t warn you of this, but drunken people spit! Even the civilized ones. Conversations became nightmarish. Between trying to make sense of random strings of words and dodging attempts at baptizing me with saliva, I started to enjoy the surrounding less and less. People began to speak faster and spit more; trying to get whatever they could out of their mouths.
I was suddenly surrounded by a confused mass of idiots, mumbling and stumbling, soaking me with their drinks. The lighters being lit around me were now a source of real fear.
The Great Escape
Conversation became very linear but I developed a great technique to help anyone along these situations. When asked where I was from, I would answer “My mother’s vagina” and turn around. By the time the person registered or understood what was said, I had enough time to slip away. I strongly recommend trying this technique; it’s a great way to remind everyone to call their mums at 3 in the morning.
The Lesson
Once I was back on my way home, I compiled a To Do list to help anyone who wants to party sans the drinks:
– Make sure you party in an open air venue, as the smoke will bother you less;
– Wear steel fortified shoes, preferably Doc Martin army boots, and you can enjoy “stumbling” on the feet of all those high heeled uncoordinated tramps;
– Keep a bottle of water in your hands to avoid the temptation of sipping a drink;
– Anticipate that the last 2 hours will get more violent, so if you’re not up to battling the throngs of limbs and lubrication, leave early;
– And don’t forget where we are all from!