Friday Night Out

 

I have officially been in the city for over a year now, and have gotten somewhat used to the hustle and bustle.  Don’t like it really, but have gotten used to it.  I do enjoy the variety of the night life, however.  Although I tend to avoid the downtown club scene (what, with all the nightclub shootings and all), I have ventured out to a number of places in the surrounding areas. 

 

I have been to Top 40 clubs, hip-hop clubs, rock bars, a country bar and even an extremely hardcore dancehall club.  At all of these places there have been a number of strange guests, fights, odd clothing choices and questionable behaviour.  It doesn’t really bother me anymore.  I’m not saying I’m Carrie Bradshaw quite yet, but I have started to become accustomed to the more eccentric. 

 

When my good friend invited me out to her neck of the woods for a ‘girls night out’, I agreed without a second thought.  She lived on the FAR FAR FAR east side of the city.  To true ‘City People” she didn’t even live in the city.  She lived in some distant town that was connected to the real city by a train line.  So, I assumed wherever we ended up going would be tame, bland and on the up-and-up.

 

I’m sure you know me well enough that this was not the case.  I don’t bother to write about typical events.  If it was run of the mill it would not be included on the “weekly funnies” web page.

 

The night started with me sitting on the highway in traffic.  There was no reason for the highway to be blocked solid at 8:30 at night, but it was.  I guess someone decided to send out a bulletin to EVERY SINGLE TORONTO REISDENT to get onto the highway and drive 20km/h.  The cottagers should have been long gone at this time, and it was way too early for the night owls to make their appearances.  Note to self: the 401 in Toronto is always busy. I’ll remember that for the next time. 

 

So I finally arrive at my friends place, annoyed and cursing.  I was late, and this seriously infringed on the “Pre-Drinking” time.  My spirits improved when I heard “Dr. Jones” blasting from my friend’s house.  This, you see, is our party song.  As I approached the door, the music changed to a classic 80’s song, and I forgot all about the traffic and rushed inside, eager to get the party started!

 

A lot of giggling, “OH MY GODs” and talk about shoes, clothes, men, favourite drink, favourite lip gloss, some more about shoes, some more about men, a fashion show or two, picture taking and general jovial behaviour followed.

 

Somehow when you take 3 smart, ambitious, career oriented women with good jobs, a stable life, independence and class, mix them with a fruity drink and 80’s pop music, you get the giggling and talk about shoes and lip gloss. 

 

Hey, we talk about spreadsheets, accounts, managers, deadlines, financial statements, project plans, meetings, team building activities, emails, time management, train schedules, vacation preparation, dinner options, grocery lists, laundry, fund raising and voice mails all day, give us a break if we want to be silly.

 

So, we were ready to head out.  It only took us an hour and a half longer then planned (a few wardrobe changes as well), but who cared!  We were not on a schedule; we were being fun and fancy free!  We call a cab, and saunter outside for some air while waiting for our ride.

 

Now came the talk of “so, where are we going exactly”?  My friend informed us that we were headed to a country bar.  She assured us that it was a lot of fun, and not to worry if we didn’t like or know country music.  Apparently they played a bit of everything. 

 

Now my friend had been to this place before, I have been to other country bars before, however the third member of our party had never even listened to a country song before in her life.  She was not too keen on the idea, however decided to give it a shot.  At that moment, our cab arrived.

 

It was a cab-van actually.  Oh good we thought, extra room.  Then we had a closer look. 

 

There were glow sticks hanging from the rearview mirror, and we can hear trance music blasting from the speakers.  I think the cab-van was even rocking a little with all of the heavy bass. 

 

Tentatively we approach the vehicle, and notice a rather scary looking man behind the wheel.  He was wearing several glow-stick bracelets and necklaces, and was bopping his head to one side keeping the beat.  We get in, not sure what else to do.  The cabbie hands us some glow-stick bracelets and asks us where to.

 

We tell him the place, and he gives us a funny look.  “Aren’t you going to put the bracelets on?” he commands.  We are too shocked to argue.  Before we have fully closed the doors, Cabbie peels away, tires squealing.  He zipped through the "40 km/h" residential area doing about 80.  Me and my two friends immediately did up our seat belts and were all holding hands in fear.  A few run-red lights later, and we arrive at the bar in record time.  The van screeches to a stop, we all go flying into the seats in front of us, and rush out of the “rave on wheels” scared to death.

 

Just a reminder, we are going to a COUNTRY bar.  Glow-sticks are not part of the dress code.  Hats, boots and belt buckles the size of your face are acceptable attire for a place like this.  Neon sticks that glow and music laden with heavy base just don’t fit.

 

Needless to say, when the "rave-mobile" pulls up to the country bar, we get a few odd looks.

 

This nasty looking bouncer covered in leather and tattoos glares at us.  Do you think we looked out of place, glow sticks and all?  We could hear this really twangy country music being played from inside, and the three of us exchange looks of “what the heck is this!”  What WAS this place?  It felt like we were in Deliverance Country.

 

We enter the bar, taking off the glow sticks and trying to blend in.  OH MY GOSH.  I can not describe it.  Picture this:

Wood paneling.  A musty cigarette smoke smell.  An extremely ugly and unenthusiastic band pumping out country twang from the 60’s.  Lots of empty tables.  Several middle-aged men and women square dancing on the dance floor.  

 

It was a total hick bar.  Bikers, and old men with missing teeth, and no one under 40.

 

THEN we are asked to pay cover!  HAHAHHAHAH we figured we better go in, or the bouncer might take offence and come after us with a knife.  We pay the money, and go inside.  At 10:45pm we find ourselves in a dumpy hick bar wishing we were back in the rave on wheels.  At least there we had excitement!

 

At the stroke of eleven, the band clears the floor, a DJ puts on some peppy song, the old square dancers clear the floor, the bikers and toothless old men vanish, and we are suddenly surrounded by young, good looking men.  HELLO This might just be a great night afterwards!