In which Baw__Bag is in the wrong.
Ahhhh nightclubs. I do have loads of tales about them, but most of them are generic "I got drunk and lost" or "I fell over" stories which don't really stick in the mind. This one pops to mind though and, as is becoming common for my QOTW answers, it is shameful and one of my low points. Bugger.

So there I am, it is the year 2000. I've recently dropped out of college, and am on my first foreign holiday with the ex in Tenerife. Now, the ex was very pretty, but was an absolute shit of a person when she wanted to be, so two weeks in the sun, trapped and unable to escape her weird moods was...... testing, especially as her best friend was with her, and they used to try to outdo each other in the "Look how much in charge I am" stakes.

Anyway. It's nearing the end of the two weeks and, in general, the holiday has been fantastic. But tonight is going to be the culmination of the trip..... a visit to the big Cream nightclub. We have tickets. It is going to be ace. Or so I'm told, I'm not really into Cream and have never been a dancer, but I want ot go and get blitzed anyway, so, a little too excited, me and my mate start working away at our carry out early on.

Pretty soon, we have destroyed a bottle of vodka. There's still at least half an hour to go, so we set about a bottle of my missus' peach schnapps, which we soften in about 20 minutes. No worries, I am a hardened drinker, me. So off we toddle. Ooooh. I feel light headed. Haha. This is fun.

It is here that the memory of the evening takes a side road from what I am told actually happened. Here, in full technicolour, are the two versions.

My version. We arrive at the club. We make our way past the bouncers, they look at me with a slight look of fear in their eyes. We get some drinks and sit down. Immediately, my ex and her friend start bitching about me and looking at me funny, so I wander off to the dance floor. Once there, I discover that the place is absolutely huge, and I wander around for about half an hour before finally finding our table again. We have a few drinks, then my ex goes crazy at me for no reason. I calmly tell her to leave me alone before leaving the nightclub, where I am instantly attacked by a 7 foot bodybuilder. Having dealt with him, I realise my ex has followed me from the club, and after a swift argument, she storms off. I follow her back to the apartments and after a calm conversation i decide to sleep on the veranda.

Now what actually happened.

We barely make it past the security as I am almost falling down drunk. My ex, a bit taken aback at how drunk I am, helps me to my seat, and asks her friend if she thinks they should take me home (admittedly, this is out of character for her, I can understand why I thought she was bitching, she usually did.) I give them both an evil look and storm off to the small dance floor next to our table. The dance floor is circular, and I spend the next half an hour walking round and round and round it. I finally come back to the table, pull my seat into the middle of the bit where people are walking to the dancefloor and sit down. My ex comes over and says "Pull your seat in a bit", at which point I explode, call her every name under the sun and storm out. Outside, there is a small, super-mario looking Spanish fellow who is obviously promoting something (I seem to remember a camera), and he stops me to talk to me. I try to push past and he grabs me and starts trying to dance with me. I scream "FUCK OFF" as loudly as I can, push him away, stagger across the street and punch a litter bin outside a packed restaurant. My ex shouts from behind me and we get in an argument, I grab her by the arms and push her, leaving bruises on her arms, and run off, leaving her alone in the middle of Tenerife. Somehow I find my way back to the apartments where my ex has now returned to, pronounce loudly I'm only here to get the li-lo as I'm sleeping on the FU-CKING beach, and promptly fall asleep on the veranda.

I awoke next morning to my mate taking pictures of me.

I spent a sheepish 2 days with them before we flew home. I still feel utter utter shame at the way I acted, I ruined the entire end of the holiday and worse, I hurt my missus who, at the time at least, was my whole world. She forgave me the next day for some reason and I never ever drank as much again.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Tue 14 Apr 2009, 15:57, Reply)