Stages of a Strathy Night Out

Stage 1: Denial

It’s a dark, cold and miserable Wednesday evening, deep into week 10 of the semester and you’ve convinced yourself that tomorrow is going to be the day you get your life back together when you hear the familiar sound of the group chat.

“Light tonight anyone?”

Your mind starts to doubt if tomorrow’s actually going to be the day you get your life back together after all.

Stage 2: Reassurance

You send out a couple private messages to your main members of the squad, just to check if the rumours are true and they are really contemplating going to Light. They convince you that it’s the last time before exams and everything will be okay. That’s all you needed, reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Almost like asking your mum for permission. You’re sold and rush home from the Anderson library, where let’s be honest, you were probably not doing anything productive anyway.

Stage 3: No Alcohol

You arrive home and check the time: 9:40pm. The panic sets in that you only have 20 minutes to get to Aldi to buy your £2.50 bottle of wine. The member of the squad who lives the closest to the shop is then allocated the responsibility of getting everyone bevvy. Almost like Jesus feeding the five thousand, the responsibility of delivering alcohol lies on them… After peer pressuring and tagging random members of the squad, someone finally caves in and accepts the responsibility.

Stage 4: Taxis!

After the decision on who’s responsible for ordering the Uber is made, the focus turns to the lightweight member of the squad, who’s somehow always absolutely smashed at pre-drinks. There’s no way they’re getting into the club, yet you throw them into the taxi anyway. It’s an unwritten rule in life that whichever person ends up in the front of the taxi has to pretend to not be smashed and make awkward conversation with the driver. When you arrive at the club someone usually says to who paid the ride: “I’ll buy you a couple of drinks when we get in”. This never seems to happen; yet they’re too smashed to even care and  end up paying for the taxi themself.

Stage 5: The Queue

You stand in the queue, with anxiety rising with every step you take towards the front. You see the bouncer looking towards your general direction, so you turn to your drunkest friend and tell them to try and be sober… After what feels like a lifetime, you finally reach the front and hand over your ID. Even though you know that you’re over 18, the thought of getting kicked back is strong on your mind. You don’t know how on earth your friend always gets in, but they do and the night is officially underway.

Stage 6: The Club

Another unwritten rule is that once you step foot in Light, it’s rude to not use the bathroom and cover yourself in flag stickers from countries you don’t know the name of. Obligatory pee done, you head to the bar because it seems like the right thing to do. After an hour or two on the dance floor and with alcohol well and truly flowing through your system, you decide to get the attention of the club photographer. Which, let’s be honest, seems like a really good idea at the time. Oblivious to the fact that you’re smashed off your face and in the morning you’re definitely going to regret it. He takes a photo, you exchange nods of approval and your night can continue.

Stage 7: Food!

You eventually gather the squad and somehow navigate your way to Bistro, which if you’re coming out of Kokomo or Bamboo is conveniently located above it. One over-priced cheesy chips and garlic mayo later; you start your journey home. If someone doesn’t steal a traffic cone or a sign after a night out… did you even go out?

Stage 8: The Fear

Welcome to the “fear” stage. Where you open your phone in the morning and see all the Snapchats you put on your story and all the photos you’ve been tagged in on Facebook. The regret of going out being the only thing on your mind, you gather some water and ask if anyone wants to order a Dominos.

By Harrison Hill