there’s something about it. the minute i enter the club the music hits you so hard that you have no idea what the fuck is happening.

you feel like leaving. the smoke and everything is overwhelming. you just know what to do. so you stay there like an idiot staring throught the masses and see if you find someone you know. and do it for what seems like an eternity… it isn’t. it’s only for a couple of seconds. adrenaline is flowing. you got hit remember?

you go to the table aand sit there. you yell “hi” to everyone, shake some hands if necesary and then start yelling at each other. don’t worry no one if deaf, it’s just that the music is so loud that you can barely hear yourself think.

after a few sessions of screaming, the waitress comes to see if you want to drink something. if you’re in luck someone already ordered the exact same thing you want and just show it. otherwise you’ll have to do some extra yelling…

by now you throat is so soar that you’ll wonder if your voice will be with you the next day. depending on your alcohol intake, chances are it won’t…

the waitress comes back with your drink. you have to pay now. right, so you reach for your wallet and pull out the cash. you realize you accidentally tiped her and try to remove the extra cash. she sees that and it’s too late. you gotta leave it there. ah well, no biggie…

you finally get into the groove and start to feel the music, so you stand up to go and dance. you notice that your shoes stici to the floor and realize that alnost everyone spilled something on the floor. whether it’s juice, cocktails or beer it’s now on your shoes. ah well, not that much of a problem. ruins your dance moves, but that’s pretty much it…

you look at the clock and see what’s the time… late. you had fun. that’s why it’s so late. so you get dressed and exit. luckly your ears can’t talk. if they did they’ll probably say:

what the fuck just happened? are you crazy? i could’ve died in there…

but they didn’t. they’re just in shock. pretty much like your throat.

you get home and smell the smoke of cigarettes on your clothes and realize: fuck that, not gonna wear them tomorrow, but you ’cause you don’t have anything left…

ah well. clubbing… remind me not to do it again soon…

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