"Lets go to a shady bar. Slimy sorts" I suggested to my friends. We entered a place that was promisingly bathed in red light. Unfortunately it turned out to be family dining restaurant where people were going through chowmein, kofta-naan and pizzas in gangster red light for some reason.
We hastened to the pub across the road. Ice CUbe in Noida. This one was all blue and UV light. My white men's shirt shone as if I was being beamed up into a UFO. This was more like it. We settled into a Los Angelesy red couch.
The dance floor, right in front of us was on fire. During the rest of the evening, where we slumped worse and worser and worserer on the couch, we witnessed lots of dance floor violence. All happy smiling violence. Not the type where a bouncer kills the fun by chucking a fellow out. This was a gender based drama and one where no feminist could complain. In 3 instances it was plain writ on the guy's face that he just wanted to climb on the girl he was dancing with. And all the girls took the shit with a flick of the hair and a determined smile "No we are not spoilsports! Its ok! Tee hee!"
The girl : A girl with a good face. My friend declared she had potential. She was dressed in corporate wear. Out to party after work. Dancing in spurts. Promising herself she wouldnt do it again. Smiling. The guy: Wore his jeans to his chest. Wondering how the hell to get fresh with the girl until he fell on her and hugged her with roaming hands with the elegance of a grizzly. The girl pretended it hampered her dance moves,which she was very keen on, and pushed him away to continue her cheerful jig. The guy having achieved something after all walked off oblivious to the object of his affections, and sat down to wipe off all that sweat on his brow. You have to give him full points for chivalry as he offered her the handkerchief once his wipe was over.
Then the DJ announced stag entry was not allowed to a pub which was 80% full of men.
No comments:
Post a Comment