Of Pubs and Clubs...

A good friend o' mine narrated  his experience about his first night in Leeds and I thought to share it. Beware though, he is English so this post is full of slangs (had to tell it as he did, more fun that way). But Google is your friend!

He arrived in Leeds from Bristol on Friday night. By Saturday afternoon he had charted on his Google Sat-Nav all the likely call spots for night-time fun. He's not really a pub-rat but when an old mate called him to come visit him up north, the first thing he researched (besides cheap hotels) was the night life in Leeds and frankly he was impressed by what he read. Halo seemed a nifty name for a club; he couldn’t wait.

At 9pm he called up Brad, but Brad had eaten something that didn’t go down well with him. So it appeared he would be flying solo tonight. He looked at his GPS and decided a pub would be good for a start, soak up on drinks first, see around, and proceed to the clubs.

He found himself at the Dry Dock. Wonderful idea that; a pub built to the design of a boat, only it wasn’t at sea but smack in the centre of Woodhouse lane. He wondered why a pub would want to be associated with the word ‘dry’ anyway. Inside it was a quaint atmosphere. He took a sit next to a guy who was probably in his forties; he could tell he was Irish, the accent was unmistakable. Two rounds of beer and a Juicy Lucy burger later he concluded that the Dry Dock was a bit too ‘dry’ for him; half empty and not much eye-candy around.

When he left the pub it was dark outside. He walked towards The Headrow and connected with Albion Street. His Google map told him Oceana and Tiger Tiger clubs were somewhere in front. The streets were swarming with fun seekers of all age sorts. From pimply faced Uni freshers to old geezers who should probably be in bed strapped to their oxygen tanks.

 As he approached the outer City Center, he spotted a club called Maluko. He thought it was funny because Maluko meant ‘crazy’ in Portuguese. At that moment a bouncer tossed out some lad wearing a skirt. That was enough for him, he walked on. 

Far in front he could see through slightly transparent windows (sort of like those window shows in RLD in Amsterdam), on a stage pole some woman danced acrobatically to faint music inside. As he hurried towards the place, on closer inspection he realized that it was a dude in leather-tights and dreadlocks. What was going on here? He kept on moving. His next appointment with Specsavers wasn’t due till three months…

Moving on, he came across a group of fit babes in skirts short enough to make Tulisa look classy. One of the fitter ones held an unlit fag and smiled. He walked up to her and proceeded to light it in one suave motion. Just as he was beginning to get cosy, a humongously built lad with tattoo-strewn arms came and pulled her away, giving him the glare of his life. Okay, so how was he to know that tonight was "Bring your girlfriend to work day" for bouncers? What a bellend! Not far from the doors of Tiger Tiger, a tramp asked for spare change. He had heard that these tramps set camp in front of pubs and clubs because they knew the drunker you are the more generous you become. He told the scrounger to sod off.

After walking for about twenty minutes he came to Space Club just adjacent Call Lane. There was a long queue of clubbers waiting to enter. He observed that the bouncers there were not as big. With torsos disproportionate to their legs, it looked like their dealer had cheated them on the quality of the steroids. One had a hairdo that reminded him of Amber Rose; not very menacing for a bouncer. 

When he got in, the blaring music got him excited but that disappeared immediately. Well, for starters Space unlike its name didn’t have enough space. People were literally pouring along the corridors. Everywhere had a queue; (not counting the entrance) there was one at the bar, the toilet halls and even those waiting to make a DJ request. After waiting a bit he got himself a tequila shot and some rum and coke.

 It wasn’t long before he began to get bored. His glasses fogged up on the dank club warmth. He looked at his watch, it was already half twelve and so far he hadn’t been that impressed. He left Space thankful for the gust of fresh air that cooled his face. On Call Lane there was Jake’s Bar, Neon Cactus and Brooklyn Bar. But he sussed out that they might not be very different from Space so he resolved to try them another night. He retraced his steps back to Uni premises. On the way he came across a slag strewn on the street in what looked like her vomit, a uniformed bobby taking a leak in a corner and…Halo.

 Halo is a club centrally located on WoodHouse Lane close to Leeds Uni. It used to be a church in Victorian times? (not sure), but seeing as people were now forfeiting faith for other more hedonic indulgences the clergy decided to sell it off. Today it is a gothic/church-themed night club promising unrivalled night-time entertainment to night-crawlers. He paid a fiver at the door and entered. Thankfully it wasn’t as crowded as Space was.

 Halo, as usual had a church-themed party. The original design of the church was still evident although there were several visible contemporary re-modifications. The bar was referred to as an altar and had a sign, “Have communion with us”. The barmen had shirts with ‘monks’ printed on them as did the barwomen, ‘nuns’. He went to the bar and ordered a ‘communion’. He looked around at what used to be a place of worship. It didn’t feel right, he was Catholic by birth.

He spent the next minutes dancing with a ginger-haired babe who said she attended Leeds Met. The question of whether she would be a successful pull was answered when she wouldn’t allow it get past a few dancehall snogs. Tired, he walked up to the ‘altar’ again and ordered a drink…not a communion this time. Lord knows he had already sinned too much...

 It was 3am when he reckoned that he had had enough of Halo. In front of him, two dudes were dancing like they were on E. He recalled an article he read sometime that Leeds was every dealers’ haven. Before long, the bouncers showed the E guys the door. He left too, half drunk and knackered. When he got back to his room, he crashed off without so much as taking off his shoes.

He snored like hell.

By noon the next day, his phone rang. It woke him up. He knew who was calling before he picked up. His Mum was a staunch Catholic and sometimes liked to remind him about going to Church on Sundays.

“Did you make it to church today?”

He thought about Halo, the monks, the nuns and the altar…

“Yes Mum, I even took communion".

When the call ended, he tossed the phone in a corner and continued his sleep, snoring again like hell.

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