MEMEHUNTER

Deviations will not be tolerated.

Right. So. Thursday night.

The plan was simple:
1. Leave work and go home.
2. Get ready.
3. Get train to Edinburgh to arrive around 8 ish.
4. Sink pints.
5. Go to gig.
6.Dance like a fuckwiit.
7. Overnight in a hostel.

It was a good plan and as we all know, or should by now, one has to stick to plans. That is what they are for. Modifying plans an hour before their implementation is never a good idea.

So, I left work. I came home. Flatmate is ill and thinks he should abandon gig. This is sad. Lynn comes over to check the plan and goes to get ready. 5 minutes later she calls from the flat downstairs (the girl there is coming too) and says that she has met a guy who wants to come as well who has a car. A seven seater. Given that there are 4 of us going (since Flatmate has pulled out) that sounds good. We go to chat to him. Flatmate decides he will come after all, we all agree the car is a great plan ESPECIALLY since we can then drive back AFTER the gig. They guy with the car says his friend is coming too and he won't be drinking and he'll be driving.

Job's a goodun.

We get ready.

And we wait.

And we wait.

Until 9.00, when our wheels turn up. No one is hugely bothered, but we're feeling the change of plan rather keenly. The car appears (a massice renault) and we pile in.

We meet the driver.

He is fucked. On nothing more serious than dope, I think, but still. He takes off like a rocket in to the night, hitting 80 mph as soon as he's vaguely outside town (on country roads, mind). ALL of us tell him to slow down, which he does. For a bit. When we hit the motorway, the speedometer (a softly glowing pair of numbers in the centre of the dashboard) climbs to 90 mph. We shout. He slows.

We arrrive in Edinburgh almost before we set off, all glad to be alive.

A small tangle with directions, with everyone shouting to the driver to "go just down there" even though he can't see where anyone is pointing which is fine because everyone's pointing in different directions anyway.

We leave the car. The 5 of us have a group hug to celebrate our not being dead and decide, on balance, not to get back in the vehicle.

Then MandalinRose looses her ticket, probably at the garage we stopped at to, you know, breathe a bit. We decide to go to the club anyway and see what we can do.

We get there. A man sells Mandalin a ticket for the bargain price of £16 (face value, bless him) and we are about to go in... when we realise we haven't checked in to the hostel and, consequently, will not have keys for it when we roll back at 5 in the morning.

It is now 11.00 and the gig is starting.

Mandalin and I leap in to a taxi and tear across town to Cowgate where she runs to the hostel while I bitch to the taxi driver about how contrary to plan the evening was going. Mandalin returns, and we race back to the club and go in. After queuing for half my life to put my coat somewhere, we hit the bar / start to dance.

And have, I must say, a FANTASTIC time. Dancy dancy. Couldn't get near the dance floor (heaving) but found ourself a place up on a sort of mezzanine. 2manydj's themselves were cool, as were the other dj's on the decks before and after.

A question: why did anyone bother making any more dance tracks after Josh Wink released Higher State of Consciousness? Where else is there to go?

Anyway, there were some small dramas after the gig ended, but let us not worry about those. Needless to say we did NOT drive back that night, but staggered home the following morning. Quick shower, straight in to work to be shouted at by my supervisor.

A whole other story that one.

Anyway. Barring the adventures en route, or even including them, I had an absolutely FANTASTIC evening. Oh yes.

Today I have an eye infection, which is very poorly timed indeed. Not to worry, I have eyedrops that'll clear it up by tonight. I insist.

posted by Memehunter @ 2:31 PM