You shouldn’t be reading this post.
You shouldn’t be reading it because I shouldn’t be writing it. I should still be out, drinking and chatting with friends and generally having a fantastic time.
That’s certainly how the night started. A bunch of friends I’ve met on Twitter organised a night out at the Queens Arms Hotel. (We normally get together for coffee every Friday morning.) I arrived a little after six, and for the first couple of hours I had a fantastic time. Great company, great conversation, and alcohol—what could be better?
But then the hotel staff cranked up the music, and I could hardly hear anyone speaking. I struggled along for a while, but I was missing more and more of what people were saying. Eventually all I could hear was the music, the bass notes driving my eardrums deeper and deeper into my skull (there’s not much in there to stop them).
I can’t read lips (especially after a few drinks), and so the night was effectively over for me. I said/mimed my goodbyes, walked out of the hotel and called a taxi. I was home by ten, and now I’m home, writing a blog post. Oh, yeah. I really know how to party hard on a Friday night.
I’ve never been a big fan of nightclubs or other places with loud music. I certainly don’t dance, and if I can’t talk to anyone, then what’s the point? (This is how dancing cheek-to-cheek started. They’re actually dancing mouth-to-ear, trying to hear what the other person is saying.)
Or maybe I’m just getting old.
To those who were there (including the Twitter people I got to meet for the first time), thanks for a great night. Sorry I couldn’t stick around, but I was just getting frustrated because I couldn’t hear you. And the last thing you want is someone in your group asking the bar staff, “Can you turn the music down, please?”
As for the drinks I didn’t get to buy you, it’s my shout at the next one okay? But it’ll have to be early in the night, when it’s still quiet enough for me to hear you.