Nights Out
For some reason I agreed to go to Zouk on Wednesday night. Yes, Mambo Night. The first Mambo since it reopened after month-long renovations, and with the next day a public holiday, to boot. I expected crowds. I did not expect half the population of Singapore to be there.
It was ridiculous. I was stuck in my car for 20 minutes outside Jiak Kim Street, and when I finally got to drive in, the line to get into the club stretched for a block. Never in my life have I seen a club so packed.
We got drinks at Winebar instead. At least you don't have to line up to get in. But along came a cute butch, a friend of a friend's sister (it's complicated) who insisted that we go into the club NOW, so she dragged us to the line for Velvet Underground. The guys (all two of us), being the law-abiding citizens we were, protested. Let's go somewhere else, we suggested, all the while thinking, "It's all very well for you girls. You're not the ones who'll get beaten up if we're found out." But they'd have none of it, so attempt to cut the line we did.
We stood next to the line and chatted, bravely trying to look like we belonged there. We looked no one in the eye, just talked amongst ourselves. And when the line started moving forward, we moved into it.
And it worked. Ten minutes later we were in Velvet. No one blinked an eye. Or if they did, they didn't say anything about it. What assholes we were. Here were people lining up for hours on end, and we got in just like that. Bastards.
But who cares? Principles are for when you're sober. When you've got a few drinks in you, out the window they go.
I'll have to say this though, butches have far more balls than guys do. God knows they need them, especially in this country.
Meihui says that we did what we did because of our US education. I say it's all because of the butch with balls of steel.
Velvet pretty much blew in terms of music, so we just got drunker instead. Finally at 2am, they started letting people from Velvet into Zouk and Phuture. So off to Zouk we went.
It was madness. There were so many people there, I swear you could cross the room by stepping on people's shoulders.
If you've never been to Zouk, here's some background information. Wednesday night is Mambo Night, where they play (mainly) retro music. It's a bizarre mix where Belinda Carlisle, Billy Joel, Guns N' Roses, The Village People and Bon Jovi can co-exist on the same playlist. You step in and it's like you entered an alternate universe. There are die-hard freaks who go every week. They're the ones that know the words to every song and they've invented hand movements to go along with each and every tune. It's a sign language where four fingers signify "for", a heart formed by their hands signify "love" and so on. They fight for a space on the platforms, where they face the crowd and showcase their synchronized moves. And the sad thing is, they don't all look like pathetic losers. Sure, there's a skinny ah beng and the fat girl in the shapeless tee, but there are also people that you'd think were pretty hot, were they not standing on a platform making complete asses of themselves. It's all very funny and sad and tacky and gross at the same time.
Meihui had to go, so I sent her out to get a cab. It was 2.30am, and people were still in line to get in outside the club. On my way back, I was stuck in the tunnel to Zouk for over ten minutes. That tiny space was so packed your bits were literally squashed against other people's bits. Not an experience I'd care to repeat. I reached into my pocket for my phone and spent 30 seconds maneuvering it to my face.
We got out as quickly as we could, which wasn't very quickly at all, and headed into Phuture, where (praise the fuckin' Lord!) they were playing hip-hop. Unfortunately some of our party were rather into retro, so we spent the rest of the evening shuttling back and forth between Zouk and Phuture. Still, it was fun. And the fact that we managed to "fight" our way in on what must be the most packed night of the year is something to be proud of, no? Even if we did cheat...
Saturday night was spent at a bar along Mohamed Sultan Road. Joyce, one of our friends from NU, was celebrating her birthday, and her (rich) boyfriend had the place booked.
Sure, the party was a surprise. But the bigger surprise was to follow. He'd also gotten a stripper for her. That got a lot of laughs.
Poor girl was rather traumatized by the whole affair.
I offered to buy her a drink in lieu of a present. The bartender recommended a Black Craft, which was a special drink they had. He claimed it was stronger than a Graveyard. Unfortunately, he neglected to mention the price - a staggering S$45.00. For one drink.
There was a whole elaborate affair which consisted of setting the bartop aflame and breathing fire, culminating in a rather boring-looking reddish drink (seen with Joyce above). The fire-breathing was cool though, although I thought that for $45, it could have gone on a bit longer. I guess literally most of the money for the drink went up in smoke. Unfortunately no pictures - my camera was on auto mode and the flash killed all the flames.
It was a nice surprise to see Stephen there, being from Hong Kong and all. He'd been working in Singapore for 5 months, and when we found out that he'd never been to Zouk yet (sacrilege!) we made a date for this Wednesday. He has to go, if only to experience the weirdness that is Mambo Night.
Damn, I'm running out of money fast.
It was ridiculous. I was stuck in my car for 20 minutes outside Jiak Kim Street, and when I finally got to drive in, the line to get into the club stretched for a block. Never in my life have I seen a club so packed.
We got drinks at Winebar instead. At least you don't have to line up to get in. But along came a cute butch, a friend of a friend's sister (it's complicated) who insisted that we go into the club NOW, so she dragged us to the line for Velvet Underground. The guys (all two of us), being the law-abiding citizens we were, protested. Let's go somewhere else, we suggested, all the while thinking, "It's all very well for you girls. You're not the ones who'll get beaten up if we're found out." But they'd have none of it, so attempt to cut the line we did.
We stood next to the line and chatted, bravely trying to look like we belonged there. We looked no one in the eye, just talked amongst ourselves. And when the line started moving forward, we moved into it.
And it worked. Ten minutes later we were in Velvet. No one blinked an eye. Or if they did, they didn't say anything about it. What assholes we were. Here were people lining up for hours on end, and we got in just like that. Bastards.
But who cares? Principles are for when you're sober. When you've got a few drinks in you, out the window they go.
I'll have to say this though, butches have far more balls than guys do. God knows they need them, especially in this country.
Meihui says that we did what we did because of our US education. I say it's all because of the butch with balls of steel.
Velvet pretty much blew in terms of music, so we just got drunker instead. Finally at 2am, they started letting people from Velvet into Zouk and Phuture. So off to Zouk we went.
It was madness. There were so many people there, I swear you could cross the room by stepping on people's shoulders.
If you've never been to Zouk, here's some background information. Wednesday night is Mambo Night, where they play (mainly) retro music. It's a bizarre mix where Belinda Carlisle, Billy Joel, Guns N' Roses, The Village People and Bon Jovi can co-exist on the same playlist. You step in and it's like you entered an alternate universe. There are die-hard freaks who go every week. They're the ones that know the words to every song and they've invented hand movements to go along with each and every tune. It's a sign language where four fingers signify "for", a heart formed by their hands signify "love" and so on. They fight for a space on the platforms, where they face the crowd and showcase their synchronized moves. And the sad thing is, they don't all look like pathetic losers. Sure, there's a skinny ah beng and the fat girl in the shapeless tee, but there are also people that you'd think were pretty hot, were they not standing on a platform making complete asses of themselves. It's all very funny and sad and tacky and gross at the same time.
Meihui had to go, so I sent her out to get a cab. It was 2.30am, and people were still in line to get in outside the club. On my way back, I was stuck in the tunnel to Zouk for over ten minutes. That tiny space was so packed your bits were literally squashed against other people's bits. Not an experience I'd care to repeat. I reached into my pocket for my phone and spent 30 seconds maneuvering it to my face.
We got out as quickly as we could, which wasn't very quickly at all, and headed into Phuture, where (praise the fuckin' Lord!) they were playing hip-hop. Unfortunately some of our party were rather into retro, so we spent the rest of the evening shuttling back and forth between Zouk and Phuture. Still, it was fun. And the fact that we managed to "fight" our way in on what must be the most packed night of the year is something to be proud of, no? Even if we did cheat...
Saturday night was spent at a bar along Mohamed Sultan Road. Joyce, one of our friends from NU, was celebrating her birthday, and her (rich) boyfriend had the place booked.
Sure, the party was a surprise. But the bigger surprise was to follow. He'd also gotten a stripper for her. That got a lot of laughs.
Poor girl was rather traumatized by the whole affair.
I offered to buy her a drink in lieu of a present. The bartender recommended a Black Craft, which was a special drink they had. He claimed it was stronger than a Graveyard. Unfortunately, he neglected to mention the price - a staggering S$45.00. For one drink.
There was a whole elaborate affair which consisted of setting the bartop aflame and breathing fire, culminating in a rather boring-looking reddish drink (seen with Joyce above). The fire-breathing was cool though, although I thought that for $45, it could have gone on a bit longer. I guess literally most of the money for the drink went up in smoke. Unfortunately no pictures - my camera was on auto mode and the flash killed all the flames.
It was a nice surprise to see Stephen there, being from Hong Kong and all. He'd been working in Singapore for 5 months, and when we found out that he'd never been to Zouk yet (sacrilege!) we made a date for this Wednesday. He has to go, if only to experience the weirdness that is Mambo Night.
Damn, I'm running out of money fast.
posted by cinewhore @ 2:40 PM
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gimme some mindfuckery
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