My friend the moon rising outside my lovely window
After an exhausting week with the physical theatre intensive I had all
week, I was in desperate need of a night out. A friend from "uni" here
told me and Nikki, who was also here last semester, to bring a bunch of
the new American crew with him to a gay club in King's Cross called
Scala for "popstars" night. I never figured out what that meant.
Anyway, it was definitely an interesting evening. I'd been wanting to
go dancing in a club in London
(which, duh, has a great reputation for
its club scene) all semester last semester but it never worked out. We
didn't actually get out to the club until about 10:00, and by then the
line was all the way around the other side of the building.
Hanging out pre-club-ness. Daniel (he's Irish! I knew him from last semester), and Katie and Anthony (new friends)
stupid and wore a skirt and really uncomfortable heels so I was
absoutely FREEZING. Anyway, we ended up waiting in line for TWO HOURS.
Seriously. Not exaggerating. I wish I was. It was pretty terrible, but
there was about ten of us hanging out together, and we made friends
with the people in line around us. After waiting forever, we got in,
paid, checked coats and bags, and wandered around looking for a good
place to hang out. This place is HUGE! I assume a lot of the
clubs are like this, but I have only been to a club one time before
this, so I don't really know anything. Anyway, there were a whole bunch
of different levels with different music playing in them. The place was
kind of dirty (alcohol spilled all over the floor, etc), but it wasn't
as smoky as I thought it'd be.
Daniel (another one) and I. Daniel is from Texas, and does musical theater, and I love him.
There were soooooo many people
everywhere.... it was crazy. The whole environment was fascinating. You
could tell that some of those people go there every weekend, or maybe
every night. And even as it started to get really late at night, these
people were not tired. There must be such a culture revolving around
clubs. So interesting. Anyway, we found a place to hang out, and danced
for a while. They were playing mostly American music, so I was doing a
lot of singing along. My feet were hurting like hell, but I was too
excited to care. And the best part was, I didn't get hit on AT ALL! I
guess that's what I get for going to a gay club. Anyway, good times,
got to spend time with cool people, didn't leave until 3 AM. 3AM in
King's Cross is pretty lively.
Katie, Anthony, and Daniel
Granted it was a Friday night, but there
were people all over the place. Man, I felt so awesome walking out of
this club in frickin' LONDON in the middle of the night... Walking to
the bus stop was a little sketchy, but that kind of made it fun.... in
a weird way... experiencing part of the culture and all that. We took
the night bus home, which was very unfortunately full of vomit, which,
I suppose, was to be assumed. The end of the evening was the worst: the
cab place in our little nook of Northern London was closed and so we
had to walk Snakes Lane to get home. Again. UGH. And at 4AM, no less.
This was terrible because we were all tired, and our feet hurt, and it
was very cold outside. Michael, who lives next door to me, and myself,
had to take off our shoes, and our feet got numb from walking on the
ground. I couldn't handle the cold so I look off my gloves and put them
on my feet like socks. As we were getting back to the halls I saw frost
all over the cars and the grass... while I am barefoot and in a
skirt... way to go. Man, I miss my car. So I didn't go to sleep until,
like, 5:00 since I had to wash all the sweat and cigarette smoke off.
It was a really awesome night, but I don't think I'd ever been more
excited to crawl into bed.