Party Animals
Saturday night. My friend Shellane and I decided to take Tito Paul out to town for a little taste of the Launceston nightlife. I haven’t been out on a pub crawl for a long while so I was a bit unsure as to which places were of a "sound" reputation (if you weren’t careful you might end up in some bikie gang hangout with a hairy guy called Johnno asking to buy you a drink)
Anyway, being out of touch with the club scene, we decided to have a little walk around to see which place had the right vibe for us. With a population of less than a hundred thousand, Launceston is not exactly a city pulsing with life at night. Our options were kinda limited. And since I chose to wear my 4-inch high stilletos that night there was no way in hell I was going to walk any more than 200 meters looking for a place to get a drink.
Shellane and Paul wanted to go dancing so we decided to check out this place on Brisbane street which supposedly allowed for a bit of dancing. We rocked up there, wondering whether it was worth paying the $15 entrance fee to hear some guest DJ from Sydney spin out some boring techno shit that all sounded the same to me (How in the world could Disco have died?!) While we stood there with Paul insisting that he could talk his way into getting us in for free, this white limousine rolled up in front. What the..? Then 12 or more teenagers in prom dresses and rented tuxedos spilled out of the limo giggling excitedly and fussing over their hair and make-up, each one with $15 dollars in their hand ready to have the time of their lives. Shit. This just demonstrates how long ago since we’ve been out into town. We’ve picked an underaged, non-alcohol serving club. Oh well, we’ll try the next pub.
The next one wasn’t so bad. It had a live band and it didn’t have an entrance fee. But it was too bright inside, like the inside of someone’s living room and the walls to the street were made of glass. I’d be too embarrassed to dance there when everyone can see you. Already, I could see one guy doing some sort of chicken dance with a 40+ woman in a red lace singlet. Ugh. Not pretty.
The next one was good. Or at least, I was happy to stop there. My feet were killing me. It was a little dark hole which supposedly played jazz on special occassions. This night however, it was a DJ scratching out more techno crap. What is it about TECHNO?!! Is it now considered uncool to dance to music that actually had more than 5 words in it? Already there were a couple of girls dancing and jumping in front of the DJ like he was sort of Rock god or something. But the place was good and dark. Everyone wore jeans and didn’t look like they were over 50. This’ll do. We ordered our drinks, toasted to our friendship and our youth and proceeded to get drunk enough to have the courage to get up on the dance floor. Cheers!
