Adventures in the Land of Highlighted Heads

(Read the next para to yourself in Jeremy Clarkson’s top gear voice)

What do you do when you want to lose self control, poison your self, decimate your liver, ruin your lungs, clog your arteries, bleed your ears, get jostled in a crowd, get groped, get your toes stamped on and get them stamped on again for good measure , its simple really; you can either go to hell or visit a nightclub.

Well that’s what this is all about. See the other day a friend of mine had his birthday and the rest his friends decided to celebrate it in typical american fashion of getting wasted on the eve of ones birthday.
(Personally I think its a effing waste of a perfectly good day and yeah its real nice to start your birthday with a hangover I guess, effing morons).

Anyway this mutual friend of ours decided that she would throw him a party at one of the pubs. Fine, now personally I hate pubs, they are smelly places that serve junk food and ditchwater and I would never go there myself. But since it my friend’s birthday and all I went there. After all party was said and done the group decideds to go to a nightclub and party away. Now again I hate nightclubs they are noisy, smelly, people step on your feet, the stinky smoke gets in your lungs and worst of all if you are in Atlanta; heaven forbid you should be subjected to the atrocious din called “music”. I’m sure if the United Nations or whoever is the Human Rights watchdog for the world is; ever heard those devils cries they would instantly put Atlanta’s Nightclubs and their DJ's on their list of places and people that subject fellow humans to torture.

So under normal circumstances i wouldn't risk my life and limb going to a club. But then, ..... when you are stuck far from home, ......at 11:00pm....... in Atlanta ..........with a public transportation system that at best is one bus excessive of being a joke and you are at the mercy of your friends and their cars to drop you back home. You have to take the risk of entering a nightclub and then again take the risk of driving back with your friends; knowing full well that if at that very moment an alien was to abduct your friend to perform tests on humans, the alien would be reporting back to its home planet that alcohol was definilty the energy distribution system in the human body, and a certain ferrous based liquid in there was just an impruty contaminating the alcohol.

The Scene: The Nightclub's Queue
We’re waiting in the queue outside or the line as the yanks call it [ref. 2]. Its 10:50 pm and I’m just hoping the line would move faster because the last thing I want to do is pay 20 bucks (20 effing dollars that’s 800 Rs in India [ref. 3]; Holy Shit!!!; that’s worth 80 effing plates of Pani Puri money [ref.4]) to get myself into a place where I wouldn’t want to be. And to top it off, the line was moving so slowly that I could have sworn that by the time I had gotten to the door of the club my hair, yeah my hair!!!! had grown by more than an inch.

The Scene: The Door of the Night club
Bouncer No 1 (he’s collecting the money) : Sir, you’re gonna have to pay 20$
Me: but its only 11:00:26pm..... come on you can still let me in for free now cant you.
Bouncer : Sir, but there is a cover charge of 20$ after 11:00 pm
Me: Come on man, its not even 11:01 yet and all my friends are already in
Bouncer : Sorry sir its policy you are gonna have to pay to get in now.

I curse my luck for being 26 seconds late grit my teeth and pay up the money.

Bouncer No2: Could I see some ID please?
(They ID’d me even though I don’t drink, HUH!!!!)
Me: Here’s my Licence
Hand over my Indian D.L. to him
Bouncer: Sir step aside please
Me: Is there a problem
Bouncer: Kid do you think you can get in with a fake ID
Me: What no that’s for real
Bouncer: Don’t kid with me you have no last name on your license
Me: Yeah in India we don’t ever bother with last names so my license just has my initial
Bouncer: Yeah right!!!........ I’ve seen Superbad too kid………. don’t think you can pull of a stunt like McLovin with just one name, what do you take me for an idiot?
Me: Ok, give me back my license here’s my passport (My friends had already warned me to take this just in case)
Bouncer: Kid today is not your lucky day I’m gonna have to hand you over to the cops, what do you think you are doing?
Me: Now whats the problem?
Bouncer: I can recognize a fake passport when I see one don’t try to pull a fast one on me.
Me: That’s for real, that’s not fake just because it’s not American doesn’t mean its fake.

Bouncer walks up to a cop (lots of them were around the club trying to control the traffic and the people and all) and starts explaining stuff and comes back with the cop.

Cop: Son what seems to be the problem, are you trying to get in with a fake ID
Me: No officer everything is legitimate this man doesn’t seem to be okay with it though.
Cop: Can I see your ID
I hand over my passport and my license. Cop takes them and turns to the Bouncer.
Cop: These seem alright, what seems to be the problem
Bouncer: Why don’t you look at the Date of Birth officer?
Cop: Yes what about it?
Bouncer: Don’t you see it says he was born on the 11th day of the 26th month and I know that there are only 12 months so that can’t be right.
Cop (looks at the bouncer and is at a loss for words…….. five seconds later….. he hands me back my passport and license while trying to control his laughter): Go on son, have a good one and if you are driving drink responsibly.
Me: Officer I don’t drink. Thank you anyway for sorting out this mess. Good night.

Btw the title seemed appropriate since that song from the Black Eyed Peas seems to be the omnipresent clubbing song. (Yes the song is actually "Let's Get it retarded in here" as opposed to "Let's get it started in here" [ref. 1])

References:

1. The Black Eyed Peas, "Lest get it retarded in here", Elephunk, A&M Records, 2003 A.D.


2. Queue Area, “The term "queue" is used more in British English, while the word "line" is used mostly in American English”, Wikipedia, Circa 2008 A.D.


3. Reserve Bank of India, sometime early July 2008


4. Menu, any self respecting pani – puri shop in Bangalore, Circa 2007 A.D.
   
   Note : for those of you who did not yet get it dates here in the US are written MM/DD/YYYY unlike India where it is DD/MM/YYYY as on the passport and the license.

Anyway staying on theme this song seems to be a good way to finish off:

Labels: Dumb, idiot, nightclub, stupid