We're Never Coming Back

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Friday, December 01, 2006

Day 199 - UNFAIR!

australia Glo-sticks at the ready!

Friday night, and my most anticipated night out in sydney yet. I've spent the last 2 weeks talking EVERYONE I know into coming to this night. Everyone. I sent a text message to each australia mobile number I had (including randoms I only met once) to encourage a bit of companionship. But alas. It was just going to be me.

Its fine. Right, I don't have a problem going to stuff on my own. Its no biggy. As new sydney girl Rachael so eloquently put it, I'll (I quote) "talk to anything that looks like it might be breathing", so stick me in a club full of off-their-faces disco kids and I'm away. But obviously, you always wanna go with someone else.


Anyway, tonight was gonna be big. Three big bands are playing - Klaxons (who I went to see with Angie, Jess, Laura, Tash and Tristan back in April, New Young Pony Club and Bumblebeez (who angie got me into about 2 years ago and I spent many a night listening to their album riding along brighton seafront). And not only was the music gonna be great, but the venue was gonna be decked out like a funfair and the place would be rammed with over-dressed 'nu-rave' kids waving their glo-sticks and blowing their whistles. I'm expecting plenty of neon, plenty of haircuts and plenty of gurners.

Now, I'm all geared up going on my own - that's fine. I've been prepared for it all week. But out of the blue, who should tell me their going, but RACHEL. She's off (albeit reluctantly) with some record-label-owning mates of hers so we swap numbers and I agree to meet her there. Its at Fox Studios, which turns out to be a big swish club with a huge outdoor area, decked out with funfair-style coconut shies. Its mental, and before long I find Rachel, grab an overpriced beer, and we spend the next three hours laughing stupidly at the rubbish outfits and defected party-goers.

The truth is, I love all this stuff. Any kind of fashion movement in the music scene gets a bad rap from anyone who doesn't subscribe to it. The nu-rave kids hate the skater-punk kids, and the skater-punk kids hate the grunge kids. And EVERYONE hates the emo kids. But not me. No, I'm quite happy sitting at the sidelines, not committing myself to any one type, but secretly being part of the gang and getting off on the buzz of uniformity. And tonight is no exception - in another life I'd love to be the guy wearing the neon green jeans and neon pink t-shirt. Or be able to wear skinny white jeans with black pointy shoes. But not this life. For now I'm content on the sidelines. And its fun.

So anyway, I'm loving it. I drag rachel indoors to catch some of the Bumblebeez. They only play one old track, but they're mental. Dancing around the stage in full-body animal outfits. Someone's throwing glo-sticks into the crowd, and some joker splits one open and pours it from the balcony into some girl's hair. Its carnage, and I love it.

2 hours later and Klaxons are on. We miss practically all of their set, but they seem pretty well recieved. And then I'm dancing with Rachel's mates, soaking up the atmosphere and wishing it would go on til sunrise. But it doesn't. Its 2am and the lights come on and the music stops. Killer.
There's casualties everywhere, and we walk for 45 minutes to get a cab. I'm still up for making a bigger night of it, but Rachel's flagging, so as we pass a houseparty, I grab this girl off the street, ask if I can join the party, and she tells me to head on in. Rachel's away in a cab and I'm on my own, following some fancy-dressed australian into a house. Its winding down, but there's music and LOADS of booze, so I grab a glass of champagne, start talking to two aussie girls who "just love the british accent" and I settle in.

Before long some girl is telling me that her boyfriend is a posh business man who flies her out to Tahiti every weekend. Nice deal. But then she says that she'll 'stay' here this weekend if I wanna hang out. WTF? I'm like "no way- you should go - tahiti sounds amazing", and she's like "no no, why don't i stay and we can do something". Its at this point that I realise she wants to have sex with me, so I excuse myself to the bathroom and make a runner for it down the stairs and out into the street.

And 20 minutes later, I'm outside a club, calling 2 of the guys that I met at the gig. They say they're inside the club, so I pay my $10 to get in, to find they aren't there at all. But its no worry - because the place is full of post-gig wasters like me. I dance, I make some friends, and by 8am I'm walking back to my hostel with some happy memories.

Sydney - tonight you rocked. Good job too; this place was getting me down.

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