A Saturday

So there was a plan to watch Alice in Wonderland, made after months and months of waiting and checking movie listings frantically every Friday to see if the movie has been released. And finally, when we had given up hopes, the movie came out here… and yay! there were tickets too.

We chose a theater where there would be caramel popcorn, wide comfortable seats that would burn a hole in our pockets and managed to turn up there in time. well, most of us did. The movie, I believe, is one that should be watched when tripping over some serious juice. That would be completely awesome.

So movie wrapped up, we headed for much needed meat… in a place that was celebrating the world cup by naming some drinks like “corner kick”. Which was what we ordered… because I liked the concept of a corner kick. and that fact that it had tequila. I had a tequila thing going… and ordered tequila chicken too, which turned out to be incredibly spicy and non-tequila like but good. The Corner Kick though wasn’t that effective. For one, it was imbalanced by “pernod” which I’m told is a liqueur. They came in cute martini glasses and in an attempt to make the saunf-like taste better, we squeezed all the lime into it. And then abandoned the drink.

Of course, after the meal, I figured we might as well finish that drink as we were paying for it and all that yummy chicken could balance the effect of one little glass of tequila downed in a go. Followed by a lot of water. And some pepsi.

And it seemed like it did. For a few minutes. So we climbed up to the games arcade… and the explosion of noise and colours hit us, along with the really cool Corner Kick. I can’t remember the last time I was in a games arcade, or played basketball, won tickets, goofily looked at the winners counter to wonder what I could possibly get for the tickets we had. I wish all games there had tickets. And the dancing machine was anything but in Korean! Korean for heaven’s sake! Oh I miss TimeZone!

Having worked off the alcohol sufficiently, we headed to Blossoms – the singular most awesome bookstore – and I used my excuse of having packed away all my books to buy more books.

And then for that rare girls-clubbing-night out. And actual club hopping. Well, sort of. The first party we went to was a little lame. The music was perhaps just hotting up, there were way too many white people dressed in saris. Yep, saris. It was bollywood night – which I generally love – but for the white people, for some reason it meant dressing up in 9 yards of cloth that even we find hard to dance in after years of experience.

The drinks were watered down and way too expensive, as we figured after one hit of rum. Not to mention the incredulous stares the bartender gave us when we asked for Old Monk. Come on! Who doesn’t have Old Monk? Oh yes! Snooty restaurants and bars. So my friends insisted we head to a cheaper place to get hammered – not that it takes us much – and I wistfully looked at some people smoking sandwiches there. And figured yes, we should get hammered outside. Except, loo break.

Why is this relevant? Read on.

So I waited in line… and yes, there was already a line and the party had barely begun. Have you been to a ladies room at a club? It is a mysterious area. Women, who perhaps hate each other outside, are sharing lipstick… brushing their hair, wiping their armpits, redoing the make up and there is also the occasional crying and quick-consulting sessions about do-or-not. Oh the drama! But I’m digressing.

So I waited in line… the first stall door opened and two girls walked out. Yep. Two. I figured I could hold out another couple of minutes and stepped back. The next door opened and well, one girl walked out. Whew. Except… wait… the toilet seat was raised. I don’t know… maybe the girl was just throwing up. Or… had to raise the seat for some other reason.

But I figured that was my exit cue.

And so we hit club 2. Well, pub. Which was curiously empty. And got us the required tequila in like a minute. And also kicked us out ten minutes later because my friends started to dance and well, they had a no-dancing policy. And two hot women dancing could probably be a risky situation with a potential riot.

And then club 3… by which time we were sufficiently buzzed. The music was hot. More friends were there… and so we danced the night away… i realised I had not worn my dancing shoes… and looked a little stupid dancing with my eyes closed but that was the only way I could block out the stupid guy standing around us, pretending to dance with us.

I wish I could say the night ended there. The cab I had called did not turn up – apparently, despite having a booking they can cancel my cab at anytime if they have a shortage. EasyCabs aren’t so easy to get apparently, even if you make a booking 4 hours before. So I slipped away and hailed an auto. I was buzzed but sane enough. And I love the feeling of the cool breeze on my face after hours of dancing.

Except, when I was almost home, some college kids doing stunts ran into my auto. Two of them escaped and the other one wasn’t fast enough. So the driver got out of the auto and started hassling the kid for money for “damages”. I cautiously peered out… there was no particular damage. And my feeble request of “can we please go” was ignored.

Let’s think of the situation rationally – 1 AM. In front of a fuel station, possibly filled with guys. Stopped in the  middle of the road with really harsh lights. In an auto. Wearing shoes I could probably run in but wouldn’t bet my life on it. Luckily wearing black, and a black thick sweater at that. Verdict – Fuck!

So I called my friend and realised there was really no point… by the time anyone would get here, it would be a disaster area. Luckily, the auto guy managed to get some money out of the college kid – who looked like he would cry any minute. I wanted to get out and defend him… you know, he was such a kid and all. But he didn’t look like a nice kid, just a very upset one.

The driver made loud proclamations of how he wouldn’t have let anything happen to me “even over his dead body” when I complained about stopping like that.

Of course, it was only when I was almost home I noticed that the kid was still following us. And only the presence of two cops near my house that made him take the other road, which eventually led back to my house.

I cursed my luck. The one day I decide not to take my car, or take a lift from a friend because I was having too good a time to ruin it by waiting for someone, shit happens. I really wished the government had better public transport during night too. Moral judgement shouldn’t come in the way of such basic things.

But hey! I was home, safe warm and dry.

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