Rave it up!

And so after the excitement of the rugby we headed off to the sports rave. Now, as I have previously mentioned, I don’t know much about raves, but I know enough to realise that 10.30pm is too early to get to a rave. Not that I was interested in being fashionably late, but I did not want to be one of the only bloody people in the place. Of course on our arrival we were laughed away by the bouncers, although maybe they were mocking our pathetic outfits. To paint a picture; I was dressed in knee length surfer-style Billabong shorts, a bright yellow T-shirt with a red vest over the top and various sweat bands. To add to this jumbled ensemble I styled my hair with some fluorescent yellow UV gel. Ridiculous. This being said, Pete was sporting a very tight ladies T-shirt which carried the logo ‘love life’, while Liam looked like he was auditioning for a part in an American teen college basketball player, albeit a ‘baller’ in sunglasses. Frankly the less said about Rob’s red hot pants the better, suffice to say they left little to the imagination. Guiche’s outfit was non too dissimilar to my own and as such it was equally pitiful. We looked nothing like ravers and not at all like sportsmen. But there is something about dressing up that puts you in a mood to have fun. And we did have fun. Guiche couldn’t believe his luck as within five minutes he was being chatted up by the barmaid. No really, he was. She actually seemed quite interested in him, even coming over to ‘clear glasses’ right by where we were stood. Yeh, she wanted him. But all this natural chemistry was undone by one rather unnatural incident. One lad, who himself was in fancy dress and is at Law College with Pete and his housemates, had obviously had one shandy too many. Nonetheless that does not excuse the fact that he threw a pint glass, yes, a fucking pint glass, at Guiche and his new romantic interest. Bare in mind this was totally unprovoked; we had not even met the guy, let alone done anything to antagonise him. I cannot understand why people do these kind of things. It is bizarre to even think that someone might just throw a glass at someone, its not big and its nothing like clever. Anyway, we were sports ravers and we would take on whatever was thrown at us, literally, and after a few cheeky Sambuca’s we made our way into the melting pot.
It was dark and gloomy inside, also noticeable was how empty it felt. It wasn’t packed by any stretch of the imagination but there were plenty of people around. There was such a distant feeling in the air that seemed to separate people from each other lost in their own little worlds. The ‘sports’ was represented by a series of rather pathetic sports accessories strewn about the place. Shuttlecocks and badminton rackets were thrown across the floor, while a large volleyball net swept across the main room, serving absolutely no purpose. The small trampoline situated by the bar was more fit for friendly 11 year olds than hardcore ravers, and it was no surprise when it broke after one particularly large lad bounced once too often, and no, it wasn’t me. All-in-all the rave was a disappointment. It was not the kind of hardcore, pill-popping, glow-stick-waving, sweat-fest that I feared it had be, it was a very average club night, in a run down venue. This did not stop Guiche from getting lost in one of the rooms downstairs for 20 minutes, or Pete being sick at the side of the bar, choking on his own medicine after buying everyone a round of vile shots. The highlight of the night, you may not be surprised to hear, was a well deserved kebab; good meat, good chips, nice amount of lettuce and mayonnaise to finish, culinary perfection I’m sure Gordon Ramsay would agree. Even on Monday morning I was still trying to rid the last streaks of UV paint from my hair, although, thankfully, I carry no lasting scars from my raving experience.