Monday nights. Nothing happening right? It's the ultimate school night. Ha! You couldn't be more wrong. While you are all tucked up safely in your beds, there's a whole other world happening. It's called Student Night at Mercury.
Party Partner and I stumbled (literally) upon Student Night many shots ago and whilst nursing momumental hangovers at work the next day both agreed that we have absolutely no right to be at Student Night. Yet we kept going back until we eventually learnt the error of our ways and decided to quit the ultimate "school night" jol. That was until this Monday...
Party Partner also happens to be a drummer and has joined the band One Song On. They were playing a gig at Mercury on Monday night, so of course we had every right to be there. I was also requested to take photographs of the fledgling band at one of their first gigs, which are always iconic. The gig, not the photos necessarily.
So camera bag in hand, I arrived confidently outside the doors of Mercury at about 9.45pm. Only to be met by a queue of epic proportions. It's one thing to drive past this queue on a Monday night and nod smugly going "bloody students everywhere", it's another to know that you have to get in that queue. And there's no "age before beauty" policy here. I considered trying the "I'm with the band" thing, but there was no guest list. I also made a mental note to find out about getting a VIP Tequila Tart card. I am damn sure I deserve one by now - they can take the cost out of the money I have been pumping into their bar over the last few years.
After being asked for my ID by the boucer (he has a good sense of humour) I was finally let through the door. Into what seemed like quite a civilised crowd. I found my friends and the band members and set about finding my way to the bar. The wait and the josling is worth it for a R7 Hunter's Dry. The main draw of Student Night is cheap liquor and although I am not a student, my budget is very similar.
Then it was time to go upstairs for a cigarette (no smoking allowed downstairs, sigh). Now this is where it gets interesting. Every student in Cape Town makes their way upstairs and what greets you at the door is a cesspit of heaving bodies. There's a distinct whiff of alcohol, cigarette smoke and hormones. Raging ones. Every single person in there is out to get hammered and get laid. To be honest, I had never seen anything like it. Or perhaps I had on previous occasions, but it's all quite different when you are sober. Which is clearly not the way to be at Student Night. So after my fix, I went back downstairs (make that pushed and shoved my way) to the safety net of my friends, got another R7 drink and got ready to play photographer.
The photos came out quite well and the band did a good set. Not that I am musical or anything, but they sounded good to me. Whilst I was busy with that, Brainy Friend (even he braved it for the night) was apparently pounced upon (literally) by a chick that he described as "a very large gothic version of Amy Winehouse". Needless to say he left shortly after our friends finished their set. Clever lad ... I however have difficulty in finding the "home" button on the party remote.
A few more cheap drinks later and Dancing Partner (yes, she was there too!) and I headed upstairs again. By now the dubstep was in full swing and so were the students. You gotta give it to Dancing Partner though, she got fully involved. No dancing on the outskirts for her, oh no. She found her way onto the dance floor and dubstepped it along with the rest of them. Having lost my pal in the seething masses, I stayed on the fringes trying not to look mortified whilst being bumped into from every direction. No manners these kids of today... there was almost bloodshed. I am taking my walking stick next time.
Then the next minute a set of tentacles (sorry, arms) found their way around my waist from behind, followed by a breathy "You are so damn hot" in my ear. I quietly removed arms from around my waist, turned my head around and replied "This kind of hot is old enough to be your mother." To which I got a reply... "Oh, but I like it like that." I swear he still had acne. I was out of there like an old woman running for the shops on Pensioners' Day. On the way out a chap with a fake mohawk dropped his bottle on my foot. It smashed, he said "Sorry bru", I stepped over it very dramatically and ran next door to The Shack, leaving Dancing Partner to fend for herself.
The Shack was a quieter, slightly more adult affair in the company of a few remaining members of the Drunken Hillbilly Bar Flies who also have problems locating the "home" button. Whilst there I met quite a nice young lad (no acne) who had to leave on account of getting up early to do a shoot. On the way out he said to me "So, do you come here often?" and then burst out laughing.
What a night. Starting with being chatted up by the youngest lad in Mercury and ending with the oldest chat up line in history at The Shack. Fun times ...
Postscript:No students were harmed, although some should have been.
Dancing Partner managed to make it home safely and unscathed.
And to the hot young photographer .. "Yes, I do go there often. Hope to see you soon."
Good one!
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