There was a good conversation. The type where you can actually hear the person next to you rather than shout your lungs out over the cacophony that is the DJ playing some song that has weird lyrics such as, “This is what it feels to fuck on cocaine”, in a place where poseurs, head bang to crap like Bon Jovi.
It’s amazing how such surroundings can feel like bliss at first, maybe it has something to do with the copious amounts of alcohol consumed that warms people up to the prospect of the night of debauchery that ensues.
One could argue that it’s the best way to make friends and keep them, by seeing them devolve (or in some cases, evolve) with the help of a beer or ten, but are they really being themselves or grossly exaggerated caricatures of what they actually are? Is this what you want to take home with you after a night of “socializing”? A hangover of castrating proportions and a cloud of “what the fuck happened?” looming over your head?
Well it’s a case of two worlds. One where you can actually get to know a person, gauge how they are with all your faculties alive and present rather than being dulled. And another where all you might remember is the color of the vomit you excreted while doing a coyote ugly on the table. Both leading to equally memorable moments (depending on your level of sobriety).
The question is, what would you choose?
Now Listening To: Panic At The Disco – Nine In The Afternoon
Though conversations over beer are fun-filled, the ones over steaming hot cappuccino are slightly better
Add me on msn reah? amogh.ranadive@live.in
Over from Tanmay.
When there is a cacophonous DJ, it isn’t a conversation. I just call it ‘glass shattering howling’.