By Etienne Van Bart
We approached the club. The veranda was crowded so I commented that the place was packed. My friend Eric knew the guy at the door and we got in without paying for our stamps. Inside, we waded into the packed dance floor, where electro was banging and kept near the edge, looking around. A stream of guys and girls was passing outside and Eric suggested we head that way for a drink.
At the door, a guy coming in and I made way for each other and said cheers. Outside Eric told me about a special on brandy and coke, having noticed an advert. He added that brandy and coke is even cheaper than a beer and I responded enthusiastically. We slipped to the front of the bar and waited for the two tenders to turn their attention to us. Before long a tender turned to me and I gave him my request. He nodded and got busy and with my arm resting on the counter I watched him pour the golden liquid into a glass of ice cubes and add coke. When I paid he gave me my change on a plate. Then I turned and caught up with Eric, who had since moved away with his drink. We stood and talked a while, sipping on our brandy and cokes, a drink that for the first time I was finding smooth and delicious, and not unlike rum, which I have been really enjoying this year. After some minutes we went back inside and found a little pocket of space near the door, behind the stream of people, which we looked over and I remember vaguely a few of the girl’s faces as they headed outside: blond hair, dark hair, hard looks, make up. Then we spotted a friend on an elevated step behind us. He hi fived us and introduced us to a guy he was talking to. Eric went around and up onto the step and joined our friend while I stayed in my spot and looked on. My friend tapped me after some moments and said something I can’t remember and I replied saying something I can’t remember either. After some more moments this friend said cheers and took his leave. Then Eric and I went outside for another round of brandy and cokes.
At the door, a guy coming in and I made way for each other and said cheers. Outside Eric told me about a special on brandy and coke, having noticed an advert. He added that brandy and coke is even cheaper than a beer and I responded enthusiastically. We slipped to the front of the bar and waited for the two tenders to turn their attention to us. Before long a tender turned to me and I gave him my request. He nodded and got busy and with my arm resting on the counter I watched him pour the golden liquid into a glass of ice cubes and add coke. When I paid he gave me my change on a plate. Then I turned and caught up with Eric, who had since moved away with his drink. We stood and talked a while, sipping on our brandy and cokes, a drink that for the first time I was finding smooth and delicious, and not unlike rum, which I have been really enjoying this year. After some minutes we went back inside and found a little pocket of space near the door, behind the stream of people, which we looked over and I remember vaguely a few of the girl’s faces as they headed outside: blond hair, dark hair, hard looks, make up. Then we spotted a friend on an elevated step behind us. He hi fived us and introduced us to a guy he was talking to. Eric went around and up onto the step and joined our friend while I stayed in my spot and looked on. My friend tapped me after some moments and said something I can’t remember and I replied saying something I can’t remember either. After some more moments this friend said cheers and took his leave. Then Eric and I went outside for another round of brandy and cokes.
At the bar Eric had asked his tender to make his drink without any ice. Back inside, I saw the sense in this request. My drink was getting a little watery so I started picking the ice cubes out the glass and feeding them into the ruck of swaying legs. Then, taking out another cube, I asked Eric if I should chuck it into the crowd. He shrugged his consent, so with a quick motion I let it fly and it disappeared without any sign of disturbance. I gave him a cube and suggested he do the same. He was more cautious, and took his time before tossing the cube, also to no effect. I tossed my last cube and got down to my drink. After a few moments two girls moved in front of us and after a few more the one in front of Eric turned and it appeared to me she was eyeing him, but then I saw she was actually acknowledging her other friend next to him. But Eric thought she had looked at him and we were wondering about this when the girl next to her, the one behind me, gave me a cursory glance, and in turn Eric and I grinned at each other. Then the same girl turned and told us coyly that we looked angry. So I made myself look really angry, which was quite funny. Then she asked us something and Eric said something and I recall saying “Bishopscourt”, by way of an answer. We stood there a few moments longer and then we headed out again.
Eric had said he was going to get a vodka and red bull, and suggested I did the same, but I made up some health concern excuse and got a beer instead of that and instead of the special on the strength of Eric’s suspicion that they were watering the brandy down. Indeed - and what’s more - a short while later back inside and having finished his latest drink he announced that he had spent 50 bucks and was as sober as a judge. But I was coming along nicely thanks to the beer. We were on the step overlooking the dancefloor and were trading quirky moves in time with the electro. One of my moves later that night was to put my hands over my ears in an imitation of that painting “The Scream” by Munch – a move to some extent inspired by the garish electro track we were dancing too. But when we were on the step it was Eric who was coming up with the interesting moves. A girl near us even told him that he was being a weirdo, or words to that effect, and I jokingly suggested “we leave this madman alone”. She complemented me for being cool and encouraged me not to cut my hair and said her name was Estelle.
Mellow, unbuttoned phrases loosed themselves from me and drifted around. Something about blueness and…I forget what else. Below the step a small cleaning man was trawling through the subterranean grime, picking out rubbish between the thrusts of insensitive hips. I watched him make his humble way through the crowd, filling his bag. And when he reached the front I wasn’t the only one who was pleasantly surprised when he put the bag down and climbed up behind the decks, and put a pair of headphones on.
