Club Life | Leah Driscoll

Leah2Ah, R&G week. An entire five days dedicated to drinking up and falling right back down after a few hours of alcohol exposure. I, along with the majority of the student body, cannot wait for the banter that is awaiting us over the coming days, and, more importantly, nights.

Before you ever enter a club, the annoyances begin. First off, there is the disgraceful lack of choice. Any student younger than 21 is hard-pressed to find more than one club that will let them in on any one night. This means that any club in Cork city becomes pretty boring pretty quickly as you begin to learn the staff’s names off by heart.

Bear in mind that we have yet to enter the building when we meet annoyance number two: bouncers. Now, I don’t mean to say that every bouncer is a rude person, because that’s not true. However, there is always one or two on a night out that let the power of the walkie-talkie go to their heads. Some tell you you’re too drunk after the strongest thing you have consumed would be the Lemsip you just took for your sore throat. Others enjoy spending a ridiculous amount of time inspecting your ID, making even you question your identity. A rude bouncer can be a bad start to the night, but assuming you actually make it in, we will move on to the third thing to grind your gears.

Buying drinks in pubs and clubs would be enough to drive anyone to poverty, and so we have pre-drinking to thank for a cheaper night out. However, on the rare occasions you actually decide to buy a drink in a club, the queue could push you into sobriety. Wrestling past a throng of thirsty folk in order to pay €5 for a vodka and splash is not an ideal way to spend the night.

At some point during the night you make your merry way towards the bathrooms, only to encounter pure bedlam. I imagine this is mainly the case for the women’s bathrooms, as it’s hard to imagine walking into the men’s toilets and meeting a screaming crowd of boys stuffed into the cubicles declaring how much they love each other. Yes, the bathrooms are the ideal location for any girl’s ultimate DMC (in this case, Drunken Meaningful Conversation). While this is great for anyone who’s involved, it means the toilets are not the best place to be if you don’t like to deal with messy drunks. Speaking of messy drunks…

They’re the reason your drink has now become part of your outfit. They’re also the reason there are more than puddles of just water to avoid on College Road the morning after. They are most likely to be the people who just got carried out of the building. Chances are they won’t remember much the next day. They’re better off that way really…

Remember last night, and how well you were looking? The hair was perfectly styled, the make-up would even have had the folk at MAC drooling and, not to be cocky or anything, but your outfit was pretty mint. Your memory of it is so vivid, yet clearly some tramp with an afro and mascara-stained face managed to steal your clothes that night and hop in every photo going. For some reason, people are tagging you in them. Stay in denial, and stay close to the untag button.

Besides the trauma you’re suffering from those photos of last night, there’s quite a good chance you have also suffered some head trauma, seeing as it is pounding from the moment you wake up. Flashbacks from the night before and a sudden aversion to sunlight mean you have a bad day ahead of you.

Why is it that we still go out, after all of that? Because it’s fun, of course! The memories gained (or perhaps temporarily lost) from a good night out make the bonehead bouncer and potential concussion worth it. Enjoy R&G week, and don’t be the creator of those College Road puddles the next morning!