Clubbing or the Zoo?

I have almost finished my year of being the grand old age of twenty-one.

When I was in my prime teenage years I viewed anyone twenty plus as a fully grown (and quite old) adult. Now I am physically here, mentally I still feel seventeen. Yet I can't help feeling like I'm getting on a bit.

No longer do the black holes of the universe (the doors that open up only past sun fall allowing the stumbling youth to party on until it rises once more) lure me in by their continuously pumping '#bangin' tunes. 

What is it that us humans find enjoyable about paying a sum of money to go and drink in a dark room with loud overpowering music where you can't hear anybody speak?

Someone once said to me clubbing was one of the most anti-social things you could do. I frowned, in my youth this was acceptable before I realised frown lines are a permanent thing once you're on the one way train to old-age-ville. Woop Woop! I hate to finally be on the same page as said person, and quite frankly, I'm worried!

Nights out can often feel like a trip to the zoo!

I've tired of queuing for twenty-minutes plus to buy an over priced, half sized drink. Why bother queuing when the rest of your buddies partying on down, throwing their hands in the air like they just don't care, absent-mindedly create a monsoon fall of alcohol that comes showering down on you!

Gallivanting about the playpen for adults are the feral teenagers let loose on multicolored alcopops. And you thought blue smarties had a high amount of E numbers! Lord only knows what could possibly be in this ever so popular devil juice! 

Apart from the monsoon of alcopops staining my clothes, I can not least forget the overcrowded dance floor that really is mostly a swimming pool of other peoples sweat. To get from one side to the other would suffice for a very entertaining game on Gladiators or Tashiki's castle.

 Dodging drinks and swerving around all those cavorting with a little bump'n'grind is actually quite challenging. The various levels of the challenge depend on how much alcohol you have consumed - drink:balance ratio. 

Once you have completed the task you win the prize of, in the words of Taylor Swift,  NEVER EVER getting back together...I kid..never ever finding your friends again. Therefore spending the night aimlessly texting those who shalt not look at ones phone whilst in the holy land of the lord of the dance! (River dancing is most welcome in these establishments, however probably frowned upon)

After this challenge comes the food round! Endlessly queuing for fried chicken that you wouldn't touch in broad daylight. Most people would normally frown at such establishments but all food snobbery is washed away by the plethora of alcohol consumed and replaced by a search for grease. 

Then comes the task of getting home! If your unlucky/lucky to live where there is no Nbuses you'll be used to getting taxis and cater for this in your budget before going out!? Unless you don't and you end up walking miles and miles home. If your lucky/unlucky enough to have NBuses you can get home on the cheap with your fellow boozed up buddies. There's those who want to get home ASAP, those who should have gone home ASAP when they first reached the club, and those already vomming fried chicken all over your new shoes! Once this is completed its hello bed, good morning hangover city. And no, Bradley Cooper isn't there. SAD FACE. 

It won't be long until the viscous cycle is repeated! There's something that just keeps on drawing you back. 

Good nights out, are they just an illusion? Smoked filled air mixed with an alcohol infusion?

Please excuse me whilst I go and drink five liters of water and practice some new yoga positions.

Just kidding! It's Friday afternoon and whilst I may no longer be a young feral teenager, I'm not ready to give up trips to the zoo just yet.