How does it feel like to be 21 years old 1 month and counting? Never felt better! Just went on my third clubbing trip, this time with baby again. This time it’s a place along Clarke Quay (where else), Gotham Penthouse, a place not remotely associated with bats or penguins. But the interior is reminiscent of a dark cave with really comfortable couches. I wonder if Bruce Wayne smokes, cos if he does then he’d fit in there perfectly as well. Considering a lack of enthusiasm for such places usually, I’m quite surprised to find myself stepping into a joint barely 3 months since my last visit to Club Momo (NUS Arts Bash, great stuff!) But since baby showed slight interest in going, I thought why not, let it be the channel to let our hair down after the exams. But that’s beside the point, the point is that sometimes you just can’t help but wonder why people behave in such a ludicrous manner that you don’t know whether to scoff at them.
What happened was upon paying for entry and collecting our tickets to drinks, we were headed for the abyss of indulgence – we could hear pounding bass beats as they launched a full scale siege at our tickers from the other side of the glass doors with tree trunks as handles – when the bouncer stopped me dead in my tracks. He then proceeded to make known his intentions to inspect my sling bag. I jokingly told him I bear no firearms, and there he was giving me that cold hard stare as if I just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. Fine, he doesn’t appreciate a tension breaker when he sees one. Then after rummaging through the bag for like a few seconds, he extracted my bottle from the side slot with a pleased look on his face as if he caught a drug pusher red-handed. After finding that it was near-empty, he muttered something to himself before letting me in. Not impressed. He was just going through the motion of a bag inspection – even if I were to bring in some contraband substance he couldn’t have spotted it. And what of the minimalist who chooses to put their substances in neat mini Ziploc bags and keep them in their back pocket? My bottle contained a little liquid that might have been concentrated Spanish Fly*, that muscle brained oaf!
After that unpleasant little encounter, I must say that the rest of the evening went by pretty well. We met Marc who’s from that hall as well (yes it’s a Hall 2 thing so attendance was close to pathetic, not that I mind of course, it meant more breathing space for non-smokers!). He was sabotaged to go up to stage to take part in a beer drinking competition, but some other guy and a girl won the contest following which they had to put their hands in a plastic container containing grasshoppers and earthworms and feel their way around to obtain certain items Fear Factor style. The promised prize of an iPod never transpired and the two contestants ended up taking more alcohol home. Hah, so the Anti-You** thing was against their own students as well?
*An urban legend that this Spanish Fly is an aphrodisiac that can make unwilling parties relent to having sex after having consumed this drug, probably slipped into their drinks without their prior knowledge. Can be in any form, solid or liquid. Does NOT contain that irritating six-legged and sometimes hairy red-eyed insect that buzzes around carcasses and fecal matter OR elements necessarily from a Mediterranean Country. Contrary to what my friend told me, it causes unnatural swelling of the genital that is undesirable as it actually poisons the organ! Ouch I don’t fancy a banana masquerading as a brinjal. That is the real effects of this drug on males, from a little research online.
**A friend of Malkee’s once proclaimed proudly that their school is Nanyang Technological University, with the initials “NTU”, and then he directed an “assault” at me by repeating the letters a few times and gesturing towards me in a “We’re An-Ti You” fashion, get it? So the National University of Singapore, not to be outdone by this outrage, shall retort: “And You Ass! We roger that loud and clear” Not to mention the Singapore Management University which is in a league of its own, with the self-explanatory “S(ado) M(asochistic) You” demarcating the boundaries between the cliché and the kinky.
Song in my head: Radiohead: Paranoid Android
