So, a free invite to a Polar Light beer party… don’t mind if I do!
It was very soon after that that the delicious feeling of regret started sinking in.
I came into the evening carrying a substantial pectoral injury sustained in Maracaibo (big step, oblivious, smash). This injury had bothered me for the past two weeks yet today it flared up like a rusty spoon jabbed through the teat. So it’s fair to say I wasn’t bringing my A-game.
Preparation for the evening was particularly excruciating as surprisingly the pectoral muscle is vital to all things dress related… pulling up socks, drying my hair, lathering on anti-mosquito cream (not necessarily in that order). Yet ever the trooper I carried on, got the job done and headed out.
So we arrived at the venue, pumped and ready to ROCK!!! There was no rock.
The welcome bell of house music greeted my once eager ears… loud, generic house music….. delightful! Oh how I do enjoy a good ‘crunking’ house tune.
At a similar party in Maracaibo we were treated to the joyous experience of FREE BEER!!!! In Barquisimeto… no no nooooo!!!! 20Bs per pint (I use the word ‘pint’ VERY loosely).
And so the evening began… lifted straight from a school disco where everyone stands around the outside eyeballing each other, waiting until someone gets drunk enough (did I say school?) to start dancing.
Polar Light, the sponsors of the evening, spared no expense with the setting… but scrimped somewhat on the flavour and taste. Several pints later and the bladder was feeling somewhat heavier yet with no effect whatsoever on my poor ears/soul. They were still being violently assaulted by the monotonous beats from DJ ShuttheFrigup
The crowd slowly filled up, populated by pretentious women (typical club) with massive fake boobs (not so typical), and pretentious men with shirts buttoned far too high!
Thankfully by the grey beard of Zeus I was surrounded by good people, otherwise I may have climbed the scaffolding and attempted to insert a vinyl record into a small round hole. These good people did however have the unfortunate habit of making me laugh, which aggravated my pec something fierce.
So after what seemed like days the call came to leave…. HALLELUJAH!!!!!!
(editors note: “Stupid Fray….. silly, stupid Fray!”
When a Venezuelan says they’re leaving they don’t actually mean that they’re leaving! It just means you’re heading towards the exit where you’ll meet someone else, turn straight back around and spend another hour ‘partying’.
And so the evening went… but by now the DJ had branched out, started exploring new styles, new directions…………. no wait, still the same beat from 5 hours previous.. Yay!!! How I did love that beat!
And suddenly it was time to leave. I hesitated for…. no, not even a nanosecond. We were in the car and heading home……… praise be to Jebus!
Upon arriving home I had every intention of stripping off, hitting the sack and sleeping sweet, sweet dreams…… but apparently the powers that be had other plans for my good self. I sit on my bed, kick off my shoe (not an unusual action… one performed on a daily basis with no ill effects), yet this time the shoe goes careening off towards the shelving unit.
For those unaware of my sleeping arrangements I sleep in a cosy little room, (I’d love to guess at the dimensions but by now my spacial awareness is sadly diminished). It has a shelving rack for clothes, and a shelving rack holding up a little tv. It was the latter rack that my shoe aimed itself at.
In my prior 3 months I’d never questioned the sturdiness of this racking. Always had it seemed so dependable, so….. sturdy, that never a worry had crossed my mind. I obviously hadn’t factored a flying shoe into the equation, as as soon as it struck (that’s an alarmingly excessive use of ‘as’ in one sentence!) the structure it brought it all toppling down.
If I’d have actually enjoyed myself tonight and ploughed through the booze my cat like reflexes would have failed me. As it was I was remarkably sober, and so able to throw myself across the room and save said TV from taking a bump which may have impaired its functionality, and caused the entire house to rouse in an undesirable fashion.
So……… clubbing. It’s not for me!
Pure class.
I like the tags you’ve used for this entry – they really sum the whole thing up nicely! So, nice work but your pec no doubt hated you in the morning for that super save! Shame about the night, I was under the impression that Venezuela knows how to party – or did your companions actually enjoy the nnt, nnt, nnt soundtrack to the evening while you were you just the square eurodude who isn’t cool enough the appreciate ‘dem beets’?. Keep them coming please!