no one saw it coming but me..

It is your typical west end night club.. A line of people that snakes around a corner and another jumbled and uncontrollable mass (refusing to wait) crowding the front door: demanding their reservations for a table (something nice by the dance floor), waving off the minimum spend requirements for bottled service, calling the door staff by their exotic sounding names: Viviana, Igor, Maximus… You know the type of place I'm talking about - with the short syllable name (Chi, Huu, etc) or maybe even the nonsensical mixed name "something foreign with something that makes no sense at all" - etoile dew.

Inside, the place has plush velvet walls with round booths for the tables.. Scantily clad dancers gyrate and swing around getting the attention of the hapless drinker, unable to make sense from the 20 pound drink at the bar or the fact that it's been watered down just for him.. Teeming with people, this exclusively classy joint is filled with those who have that money and those who want that (type) money. Girls and suits, girls and suits. Glancing around in the darkness, illuminated by the split second strobe that brings a brief glimpse of the pretty young things dancing at your table, you ask, why am I here? I don’t really feel like I belong here.. Who knows why you're really here, out on the pull, blowing off steam from a hectic work schedule, dragged out by a drunken friend/fiend, following the crowd - might as well make the most of it..

The night rolls on, and you get drunker.. A little loopy, you perfect your balancing act on the table, using a double magnum of the finest marketed vodka to maintain tightrope composure. The ability to distinguish cheeky from stupid becomes quite blurry and you're pouring vodka down your own throat daring fate to bring it.. A brilliant idea comes to you with where you decide to share it with the people around you.. First a friend who's just a clouded as you, tilts his head back as you splash alcohol into his mouth and on his Hermes tie.. A very pretty girl (as they normally are in a fine establishment such as this) casually passes by and you decide to rope her into your merriment and vodka fountain. You tap her beautifully bare shoulder with the utmost care of a gentlemen and she swings around with that perfect hair - and looks expecting a debonair with the highest level of instruction - only to find a baggy eyed, pasty suit trying to pour a double magnum of vodka down her throat with his other hand stabbing the air above with his flying dancehall fists..

Even in this type of darkness, you can see the look of horror in her perfectly done up face as she reacts to push the bottle away. In this unnecessary late night tugowar of a over sized bottle of alcohol, you end up splashing the overpriced moonshine on her dress and a few other irate people. The melee results with you winning the bottle but at the expense of breaking her nose with the base of your prize.. Now, just to make you feel like there's an even bigger pile of sh*t heading into the vicinity of your fortune, two very large gentlemen approach and yank you off the table with that type of realness and pressure that would make anyone squeal like a pig. It just so happens to turn out that the pretty girl who's nose you just broke in that unnecessary fracas, is someone way more important than you, and these two gentlemen are going show how much more important than you she is... And in that instant you get pulled out into the darkens of the club, outside the door to the back alley to get the beating of a lifetime in the lifespan of 60minutes… but thankfully, that's not me, I'm just the innocent bystander in the next booth over, bored with his night and decided the lead up to a disastrous night..