Club Hoppers: The Story Of One

This is one of those articles where I claim the plan was simple,then I back track and you realize I was not very honest the first time round and the plan was nowhere near that.The truth is the night in question was destined to have some harrowing experiences.We’d just left a graduation party and this should have been the climax of the night. Seeing as I have just started writing this its pretty obvious that it wasn’t.
The first stop was Garden City.Somebody had suggested that it was “actually happening” on Saturdays.Somebody lied.I suppose we were to blame.We should have seen it coming.On a very “happening” night the guy at the gate hands you the parking tickets with lots of aggression.Actually if you don’t lower your car’s window in time he’ll probably hook you up with some instant ventilation.This particular night he was simply not “feeling it”.From the way he was handing them out it seemed like he had actually realized that for his 5 years in law school,this was a major setback in the whole “conquer the world plan for global domination” he’d planned.
Even then,we ventured into the great unknown.One of the people I was hanging with actually voiced some concern,“If this place is so happening,why are there very few cars here…did guys get towed?” As is wont to happen,we ignored the voice of reason and made our way to Alley Gators where there was very little going on.And that’s not taking into account the Karaoke.It didn’t matter anyway,we’d actually decided for another venue.Going to The Venue held as much appeal as watching paint dry.
A quick call revealed that the place to be was actually Kamwokya.
We made our way there and someone figured playing pool was not such a bad thing on anight such as this.Fate intervened and somehow Fat Boys,despite having a pool table had registered its highest number of pool players ever.The othe place with a coastal sounding name wasn’t too bad either.It had a bevy of chics clad in brief skirts (which is not entirely a bad thing) and totting Smirnoff Ice like there was some sort of promotion taking place.We didn’t stay for long though. If we had,this piece wouldn’t have anything to do with club hopping would it?
We ended up going to the Rouge,which can best be described as this really cool place with red walls and a higher number of English speaking chics than you’d find in other night spots.The other thing about this place that was really hard to avoid noticing was the music being played.(Would have taken quite a bit of effort not to notice that,really).It was the kind that doesn’t force you to go into hiding because some idiot on the dancefloor is trying to show some chic that Usher got his moves from him.
We still were not pleased with comfortable with this so we hit Club Silk where we met some guy dressed like he’d stepped out of some East Africa TV music video.I wouldn’t say he was wearing too much jewellery but if someone was out to rob him the ideal weapon would have been a magnet.
The night,as has this story,ended with PunchLine.

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