I recently traveled to the great concrete jungle of the north to visit my РУССКИЕ ДЕВУШКИ (or, awesome friends Meg and Steph from my study abroad program) for their 21st birthday (which was also Russia Day! Coincidence? Fate!). We had been planning this weekend for at least 8 months and three weeks, and thus I was unusually excited to celebrate with them (my loathing of transport and bar-hopping aside). Besides a bump in the road early on due to the immaturity of a very flaky college student (not one of our classmates, thank the LOTR), I found myself cheerful and sparkling with anticipation on my 5 hour bus ride to Harlem. It was a great evening, full of laughter and light, love and loss, gin and gin, and just a spot of rain, but what struck me the most (besides the joy and excitement of the invincible ‘trifecta of fun’ legally drinking jaguars on the streets of NYC) was the bad club etiquette of EVERYONE ALIVE. Seriously people, no one knows how to ruin a party more than a disrespectful, oblivious club-attendee. Due to this negative experience, I find it necessary to share some of my experiences you, my readers. What follows is a short diatribe entitled:
How to Bother me at a Club.
1. If you’re a bouncer, you could stare at my friend’s asses as they walk by even though I know you are at least 37 and you just looked at their IDs and know they are 21.
2. If you are a self-important barf-hole, you could decide you are cool enough to lean on and over the bar to talk to a girl three seats away while 300 people are trying to get drinks behind you.
3. If you are abnormally tall and lanky, you could reach over the girls in front of you and demand drinks for yourself and your male friends while waving your gin-covered dollars in my face.
4. If you are unhappy, unshaven bartender you could charge me a dollar for lemons.
5. If you are an overeager 25 year old who lives in his mother’s house, you could dart through my small circle of friends right before we take the first birthday shot of the night, spilling half of my shot on the floor (and the $1 lemon).
6. If you are a 25 year old girl who works as a preschool teacher by day and a pretentious asshole by night (and who is wearing sparkle blue eyeliner) you could stare at me as if I am coming here to play ConnectFour with you on your off hours. Don’t worry, I promise not to puke on your 2 inch manicure.
7. You could be a douchebag, getting a drink for you and your companion at the bar with NO REGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE. You order a gin and tonic for your sweetheart (or DFMO friend) and suddenly realize that I am having a great time with my friends three steps away. Imagine you have the urge to pour both drinks on me like you’re a grown up with this child’s motor skills:
Yes, I was sweaty, but I didn’t need a shower, kind sir!
8. You could be an entitled, social-climbing college kid who isn’t into the dance/rave scene or into the particular band that is playing but absolutely insist on swaying awkwardly about in the front row while texting on your iPhone. If you are going to wave your money around at least be playing Angry Birds.
9. You could be a large man looking to assert the size of your ball sack by hitting another man of similar stature in the middle of the dance floor.
10. You could be my male friend and you gallantly (but stupidly) jump in to “break it up”. I don’t understand this–all you are doing is scaring people, fighting, and shrinking the safety-zone for us bystanders.
11. You could be an indecisive friend. Just. Pick. A. Bar.
12. You could be a scene kid having a great time when a Black Eyed Peas song comes on. You stop dancing and stand there with a pissed off look on your face until everyone around you stops in confusion and becomes equally despondent.
13. You could be the scene kid’s drunk girlfriend and you keep bothering the DJ to play Freebird because it would be ironic.
14. You could be the DJ and you play an N*SYNC song. You are cockblocking everyone (excuse the expression–I do not condone it, but I invite you, gentle readers, to provide another anecdote of similar gravity).
15. You could spill another drink on me.
16. You don’t want to leave the club to get McFlurries.
Lucky for our wallets, we don’t have a club scene at Amherst, but if we did, most of us would have no clue what to do. Now, take this knowledge, go forth, and club considerately (but not necessary responsibly, it’s a club after all…).
*Thank you The Guardian for the feature image!