AN INTROVERT’S NIGHT OUT

Where am I? The lights, the flickering lights – they’ll blind me! For cornea’s sake, turn them off you idiots!

Andy: Oi, those lights on the top are moving. Dancing to the music.

A friend laughs.

Argh, my eyes, the lights just stabbed me. I’ll probably have fried, empty eye sockets in the morning. Something new for the gourmet chefs to be pretentious about.

Andy: What is this sound going on in the background, echoing everywhere? It’s heinous.

Friend: EDM. Music, bro, music!

Andy: Is it a kind of a drug? Are the speakers high on drugs?

The friend suddenly starts to do weird hand movements.

Friend: Electronic dance music. It’s the thing, bro, it’s the greatest invention of 21st century. Look at everyone around you. Party, bro, party!

This is why 21st century has become a dump. The sound is killing my tiny ears. It’s like 50 hammers thumping and making sweet love with the concrete. I look around to distract myself. Who knows, I might find someone else with a self-loathing mind.

I think she’s the one, but wait, in front of them is a group of my acquaintances and a friend, yes now they have congregated, my only friend and the other people who I can’t call friends because they are the living embodiments of everything I have taken a stand against – or actually that I have a stand against, but for the fear and low self confidence, I’ve yet to take a stand against. Now everyone is performing the weird hand movements.

Andy: What are you doing with your hands and legs now?

Friend: Can you feel it bro? Listen to the music, listen to the beats, everything feels light bro, look, up we go, down we come.

He keeps on shaking his body, while making strange kind of faces. Maybe he’s high, maybe he’s drunk a bit too much for his face to realise that he’s not in control anymore.

Friend: Bro chill, come on, move your legs.

Acquaintance 1: You’ve got to move, lighten up your body.

Why do I have to move? Is it necessary to blend in with this soon to be pukish-paths? They have turned it up a notch. Give them a dagger and a pint of lager and they won’t know which one to put in and which one to throw away. Why did you remind me of the music? Oh devil, this is so tedious. Why did I ever agree to come? No wait, I was forced to. At least my conscience won’t feel guilty.

Acquaintance 1: Come on Andy, dance with us.

For Pete’s sake, let me stand in peace and stare at those 100 bulbs going off and on behind you all, procrastinating like a dog.

Andy: No, I feel fine here. Besides, I don’t want to ruin the group’s rhythm.

Acquaintance 1: It’s just a dance. See move like me. You can do it to.

You call this thing dance? DANCE? Raising your hands up and acting as if you’re trying to push someone’s butt into the sky while having a look of understanding life and all its mysteries on your face. You are a funny lot, you are.

I pretend to move for a second. Fuck, did anyone see me. What have I done? Why did I have to move? My life has no meaning anymore. I became one of them. No, if I stop now, they will probably not notice me. Besides, I’m more comfortable pretending to be a lonely cowboy chewing his piece of straw.

Friend: Where are you going? Why did you stop dancing?

Andy: I was trying to catch invisible fairies. And now I need a smoke. I feel used.

Friend: What? I can’t hear you.

Of course you can’t. That’s because your ears have being drilled by the new age orchestra of weird mumbo jumbo, beats and repelling noises put on loop, which don’t make any sense, much less than Caitlyn Jenner winning the woman of the year award.

Andy: Nothing.

Friend: I see you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Didn’t I tell you this is swag bro, this is the shit. This is life.

I shrug and see a cute girl. Before my mind can process, she has her hands up in the air – one with all fingers open, the other with index finger pointing to the sky. What the fuck is she doing?

Maybe she can’t open her fist. Don’t be so judgemental, Andy. The guys, three of them, next to her are hitting on her. That is the new sign language of the 21st century, I suppose. Three guys. What do you intend to do? Collar up and wiggle your dicks together?

While I’m sweating and making my own oasis in this Sahara desert, people are wearing leather jackets – thick ones. One of them is waving his phone while dancing. He’s just holding it. Yes, because owning and shoving iPhone in girls’ faces will make you irresistible.

I’ve had enough. If I stay any longer, I won’t be able to look at my face in the mirror, not that looking at it now makes any difference as all I do is wonder why am I so out of place?

Maybe I’m just too old for this crap. I’ll just go back, lie on my bed drinking hot chocolate and cuddle with my book.

WORDS: ANAND JHAVERI

Enjoy Anand’s creative writing? Check out his abstract piece, called Old, but Ageless.

One Comment Add yours

  1. I’d an experience where people were moving (I cannot call that dancing) like zombies to this EDM music which, to my ears, sounded like noise. I exited within 10 minutes, skipped my friend’s performance saying I had an emergency, found another spot where ABBA and Lynyrd Skynyrd meant something, and settled down to enjoy my evening, completely content with being labelled as ‘old’!

    Like

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