Alone in a crowded space
August 13, 2005: Saturday night. After spending much of the morning doing nothing, rushing through the afternoon trying to make up for lost time and 3 hours with an accountant, I was ready to meet some friends and have some fun. The plan was to go to a bar for a drink.
We decided to meet at a friends place, have a couple of drinks and then leave for the bar, which happened to be at a posh hotel. When we did get to the bar, all 10 of us, the consensus was that the place was not 'happenning' enough. This place was not 'happenning' because you could get a table, the music didn't drown out conversation and there was enough room to have a drink without someone's elbow getting in the way. But this was not good enough. So we moved to a discotheque that had an american DJ spinning.
The group comprised 4 women and 6 men (1 married couple, one now-on-now-off couple, and one pair that couldn't decide whether or not to take the plunge.) I was one of the stags. The dynamics of relationships and group outings dictates that the person most intimate with the anchors of the group, by mysterious ways of networking and SMS does not get slotted as a stag. I was not one of them. So in my designated role of a stag, I paid full cover charges for a couple and entered this bastion of 'happenning'.
As expected, the place was 'rocking', sorry 'raving'. The music was so loud that I had to do a pantomime to place an order with the bartender who promptly gave my beer to someone else. I felt like Fred Astair, dodging all those wildly heaving bodies on the dance floor, trying not to spill my drink. Attempting a conversation in that noise would have only resulted in laryngitis. So I did what I felt was the logical thing to do - move my head to the beat, pretending to enjoy the music and my drink.
The place was bursting with people. People unwinding, people watching other people unwinding, people sleeping and people like me. The group that I came with was complaining about the crowd and the music. They had quite a conversation going but I felt totally left out. I was alone in that crowd. It seemed like eternity before we left. I vow never to do this to myself...till the next time.
We decided to meet at a friends place, have a couple of drinks and then leave for the bar, which happened to be at a posh hotel. When we did get to the bar, all 10 of us, the consensus was that the place was not 'happenning' enough. This place was not 'happenning' because you could get a table, the music didn't drown out conversation and there was enough room to have a drink without someone's elbow getting in the way. But this was not good enough. So we moved to a discotheque that had an american DJ spinning.
The group comprised 4 women and 6 men (1 married couple, one now-on-now-off couple, and one pair that couldn't decide whether or not to take the plunge.) I was one of the stags. The dynamics of relationships and group outings dictates that the person most intimate with the anchors of the group, by mysterious ways of networking and SMS does not get slotted as a stag. I was not one of them. So in my designated role of a stag, I paid full cover charges for a couple and entered this bastion of 'happenning'.
As expected, the place was 'rocking', sorry 'raving'. The music was so loud that I had to do a pantomime to place an order with the bartender who promptly gave my beer to someone else. I felt like Fred Astair, dodging all those wildly heaving bodies on the dance floor, trying not to spill my drink. Attempting a conversation in that noise would have only resulted in laryngitis. So I did what I felt was the logical thing to do - move my head to the beat, pretending to enjoy the music and my drink.
The place was bursting with people. People unwinding, people watching other people unwinding, people sleeping and people like me. The group that I came with was complaining about the crowd and the music. They had quite a conversation going but I felt totally left out. I was alone in that crowd. It seemed like eternity before we left. I vow never to do this to myself...till the next time.
posted by Chaani at 10:12 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home