I did finally get dressed on Friday and into some clothes which was good, 'cos I might be shameless enough to sit in a cafe in my pj's, but even I draw the line at a club. Although it might be tempting.
After too much dithering about was it a good idea and could I be bothered, I decided to force myself to go to citycentre with Toes, Ziggy and various others for a night out. It was indeed fun in the insane way only nights out with those two can be, and unlike the last time I went to citycentre, which is longer ago than I care to remember I didn't get a man's boot thrown forcefully into my face. Which as I'm sure you'll always agree is always a bonus on a night out.
We started off having something to eat to celebrate Leah's birthday (Toe's ex ex girlfriend) in a bar in a laid back more studenty area of town. I drove there to meet the others, arriving a bit of a shaking wreck having done exactly I tell you, exactly as my sat nav told me to do...and ended up a shaking wreck around the citycentre, miles from where I wanted to be, stuck in bus lanes and at one point only realising I was not in the right hand lane of a one way road when a very angry driver beeped his horn at me....alot. Damned sat nav. Last time I listen to that thing. This of course is the same citycentre that Roland is a traffic policeman in. So at least my distressing inability to find my way out of a paper bag amused someone.
Having taken 50 minutes to make a 15 minute drive stressed out as I'd been told by Toes just how late I was, I was thrilled when I got to the first bar nearly an hour after the time I'd been told was an hour late and found none of the others there. With the exception of Toes they all currently work for another friend of ours who has a most unusual approach to business so they'd kicked off the weekend at lunchtime and had been drinking brandy and imbibing illicit substances all day, which is fine as it's only smoking that's now banned. I phoned Toes when I got to the bar and they turned up pretty quickly.
I'd not really thought about how much a problem access was going to be, other than a concern about how crowded places might be, and would I be able to sit down. This first bar should've warned me of things to come. There was no disabled loo that we could see, and I couldn't get to the back of the bar where the women's loo's were without either Ziggy or Toes helping me up the steps to get there. It wasn't a problem particularly at this first place, but only because I've got such lovely mates.
We had a meal at this first place, which for some of us was nice and for others so horrible it was inedible and then decide to head into citycentre proper to try and meet up with Toes works night out. This time the drive was easy as Toes knows his way around far better than either I or the satnav so we found somewhere within my 'being dragged along distance' to park relatively easily.
We got to the bar where all Toes work friends were...and the bouncers wouldn't let us in. Both Toes and Ziggy have what you'd call a fabulously eccentric dress sense, and it did not meet with the bouncers idea of what they wanted in their bar on a friday night.
We ended up going to a club night one of Toes friends was putting on, or something. It was in a basement bar. Access via a concrete staircase. By the time we got there I was having a raggy doll moment and being held up by Toes and Ziggy, who completely pissed tried to explain to the bouncer that I wasn't pissed, just had mobility problems as he swayed as much as me! Fortunately Toes was less pissed as he had to carry me down the stairs. And back up again to get out later on!
We stayed in the basement bar for a few hours where there was plenty of room to sit down, hang out and talk. As usual all the best conversations happen in the queue for the toilets where I ended up chatting to a gorgeous gay girl about corset tops. Although it was a nice enough bar the music wasn't up to much and I wanted to revisit my youth so we headed off to a final bar which although it's a total dump has a great atmosphere and loads of cheesy pop to dance to.
Again Toes had to carry me in this bar as it was up steps, but skipped off once we got in there as we'd caught up to his work friends. That's when it got really bizarre. In walks this girl. This girl who looks just like me. Uncannily like me. Which when you're 4'8 is pretty unusual. To the point I've never met anyone truly my size before. And nor had she. We just kept staring at each other. Although I wasn't the only one she was staring at, and her stares were being returned. Bless him, Ziggy's totally smitten and they're off on a date later this week. It's so lovely.
We'd gone to this last bar for the cheesy pop and the dancing and that was exactly what we did. The dance floor of this place is in a basement with a floor that's always soaking wet from spilt drinks and the sweat running down the walls. I got down there on my own feet with Ziggy going backwards in front of me holding my hands and helping me down, but after dancing to a few tracks there was no way I was getting out under my own steam. Ziggy and the girl who looks like me were dancing away together and kept disappearing off, it was so sweet! The atmosphere in there was really fun despite a group of girls openly laughing and pointing at us as if we somehow wouldn't be able to see how offensive they were being because we were small. The men however had far better manners and were far more interested in pulling than anything bitching could offer.
I may not be able to walk properly, but being bendy one of the few things I can still sometimes do is dance, or more realistically writhe in time to the music, usually using something to prop myself up on. I have a horrible feeling this looks like some sort of lap dance to anyone who's not me but pretending that's not happening means I can dance in public until I can't walk any longer. The trade off this time was about 15 minutes all together spread out over an hour for two days unable to walk or leave the house and three full hip dislocations in fairly quick succession today, one outside the butchers shop leaving me on the floor in a heap for five minutes while Toes just made me laugh so much the chance of my being able to go anywhere got worse and worse. I thought it was worth it.
I'd danced, or rather wiggled around enough to have to be held up by Toes, and Ziggy was gutted as his pixie girl had been dragged away by her friend so we decided to call it a night. Toes carried me back up to the ground floor and then I decided I needed a wee before driving home. As you do. Except it turned out there weren't any female toilets on that floor. And they looked blankly at us when we asked for a disabled loo. Didn't have one. They just stared and insisted I'd have to go back downstairs or upstairs. Toes and Ziggy started the usual explanation about mobility problems which didn't seem to be needed as my legs were going from underneath me and I obviously wasn't drunk when I spoke. The women on the door agreed to close off the men's toilet for me to go in there, so Toes went in to check it was empty before coming in with me whilst the bouncers waited outside to keep any men out. It was disgusting. It stank. I felt sick. I didn't have any choice. There was no way I was able to face any more stairs and even being carried was too much by this point. I couldn't wait until I got home so this was the only choice, but it was disgusting, made me feel sick. Especially as while I was in there trying not to touch anything I could hear pissed blokes outside trying to kick off on the bouncer that wouldn't let them in and Ziggy trying to explain to them why. Degrading.
We walked back to the car all arm in arm, then stopped and in a car park stuffed our faces with the McDonalds we'd all craved, a dirty guilty pleasure at the time but the wheat only adding to my misery as I suffered over the weekend.
We had a top night out.