I dislike ‘clubbing’ as I don’t really drink so end up squashed in between lots of sweaty drunk people while they try and talk nonsense to me and I try to dance around a bit, like a fool.
There is a club in Kingston called Oceana. When I was at university, people used to love going to Oceana. They’d go a few times a week and be all into it. I was kind of under the impression that there might be something good going on there so one time, when we were getting ready for a night out, the plan started to include Oceana and I decided to go along, intrigued by what might be happening there.
It was like an assault on my eyes, people! An assault!
In the main room, there were people dancing as though they were auditioning for a soft porn film. Just so we’re clear, I’m not moaning because members of the opposite sex were dancing together. I’m moaning because they were dancing up against walls and leaving little to the imagination and making my eyes feel violated by seeing them.
We crammed into a corner amongst this madness and various members of our group attempted to get near the bar, which took forever. We watched the people dancing on the podiums around room and bobbed away, bashing into each other a little, as we were basically standing on top of each other.
After about twenty minutes of this nonsense (how it is ever categorised as ‘fun’ is beyond me), the closeness and the sweatiness and soft-porn all got a bit much and I started to feel wierd and breathless and needed to sit down. I left my friends and went downstairs to another of the rooms that was quieter and people sat talking calmly to each other. I stayed there with a glass of water for as long as possible before rejoining the madness upstairs, shortly after which, we decided to leave.
Surprisingly enough, I never went back. And after such a fun visit!? I must be mad.
And that was the time I went to Oceana.
lazylauramaisey 