St. Patrick's Day Cock-up

I have never needed chocolate as much as I need it now. and here’s why:

Yesterday I went to Oceana at 11pm. Supposed to “celebrate” St. Patrick’s Day (even tho we’re not in Ireland) as an excuse to go on a bit of a binge. The night turned out horribly.

Around about 1.40am, Tuesday morning, someone grabbed Jeremy’s beret and tossed it into the crowd. Needless to say, what with the throng of people around, the beret was quickly engulfed and never to be seen again. Now according to Jem (and I don’t doubt him on this), his parents bought the beret in Dublin for 50 quid! No joke. And obviously he was quite pissed.

After looking and not finding the beret, he went back to the guy who tossed it (drunk as a frickin skunk – he went commando in front of us once. Yuck) and asked him where it was, to get it back and if not, just pay for it. Now, telling that to a guy that drunk would be like teaching algebra to a 4 yr old. As a result the guy got offensive and there was some sorta scuffle thing. Guys were circling and the dance floor was starting to resemble a boxing ring. Bouncers stepped in and bounced Jem.

I didn’t know at the time but Jem did nothing wrong.
[No-one fking tells me anything.]

So to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, I was just like “Ok. Jem’s bounced. I wonder why. Tell me the fk why!” [I was swearing at that point.]

10 minutes later there really wasn’t any point in staying in Oceana so most of them went downstairs and I followed. The mood was killed and Jem was evidently pretty ticked off and so were the Cambrian Boys (a bunch of guys who live together up in Cambrian Point. No idea where that is – all I know is it’s far away). Jack and Wai Cheong were up in arms for him and Jack called the local police (not much help there) and threatened ECHR action up their asses if they didn’t show up. It was at this point where I learned what had gone down up in the club and I doubt there was any possibility of re-entry anyway.

* * *

Damn. First bar fight I’ve ever been involved in. Scary as shit I tell you. Especially when everyone around you wants to get involved and as a rule, I don’t condone violence – especially if there is a non-violent way of dealing with it. Not like beating the guy up is going to get ur cap back, right? Granted, if you don’t get your cap back anyway, and then by all means, kick the shit out of him. But if the moment passes, then just chill out and get on with life.

I really don’t get the whole violence thing. I know, I know. Stand up for yourself and don’t take shit from anyone.
It’s just not who I am. Raised as a pacifist. Not by choice I must add. If I were 5’6” then I would gladly back you up in any fight but (almost) 20 years of being shot down for being short and other shortcomings, you learn to take things in your stride.

And then there is the only male confrontation I ever occasionally get into, which is with my dad. And there is no arguing with him. So I just back down till he cools off and find some other way of getting sneaky, cunning revenge. Like putting pepper in his underwear.

Passive aggressive.
It’s what I’m good at.
Maybe sometimes too passive. But I’m working on it.

What I’m trying to say is. For those of you who read what happened above and think why didn’t she do something, this is for you.

I wanted to do something. I wanted to storm back into the club and drag that sucker out so he could get his just desserts.
Why didn’t I?
I figured with enough hot heads around and not that I knew what the hell was going on anyway; it would just make things worse. And rational thinking in times of crisis is what I’m good at. Not soothing tempers or saying the right things. So I figured: just shut up and be supportive. Which is what I tried to do (apparently I failed).

Preventing a fight was my main goal. I hate watching violence thrown down (unless I’m in the throes of it, then bring it on!) cos it always means someone gets hurt and I can’t abide by that. Call it empathy or being overly-sensitive but if it looks like it hurts, it does to me.
Unless I feel you deserve it, then it’s a busted leg and traction for you.

The guy in Oceana was way past sober thinking and not that that’s an excuse but somehow I didn’t feel like he deserved to get beaten up. Maybe it was cos that would have made the end end in such a horrible fashion. Not that it had a happy ending but I think better everyone walk away with arms and legs fully functional than as casualties of war.

* * *

Back to yesterday:

Jem went back up into Oceana after the cops came after doors closed and went looking for his beret. Couldn’t find it.

Nothing else much interesting happened after that. We all slunk off home. Sin Yew wanted to use the loo but couldn’t find one and the Aberdare toilet was locked. He gallantly made it all the way back to his place with a bursting bladder.

* * *

As a side note, I didn’t wanna say this yesterday, but your fly was open.

* * *

And Jack, if you’re reading this. Welcome. Now get out.