Many of my friends will know that clubbing is just not the one for me. I am the worst twenty something out there in bed at 10pm and up at 8 am. I am just loving the granny life.
Unfortunately for me when starting uni I felt obliged to get involved in the clubbing scene although I can tell you now that Bristol nightlife missed out with me as I have never been a big drinker. The night would start with pre drinks at around 11 pm (already well past my bedtime). We than head out to the clubs around 1am and I am napping on the bus into town. Next up we have th queue to get in where I am shattered and freezing trying to find somewhere to sit down. Meanwhile my friends are just getting hyped up and excited. Once we finally get in I am already thinking about bed but for my friends, the night is just getting started. I feel obliged to stuck it out for a bit as we have paid to get in. As a result of my CP the constant standing up and dancing means I am quickly shattered as the only place to sit down is the toilets (I would not recommend). Also, on a good day my balance is like that of a hippo on a tightrope. When I add a minimal amount of alcohol the balance goes out of the window and ends up in Weston-Super-Mare. Combine that with the crowds, dancing and exhaustion and my balance resembles that of a hippo on a pogo stick on a tightrope (not something I think you want to see). I spends the evening (or early hours now) being pushed around the dance floor and spend a very high proportion of the time on the floor surrounded by the edgy Bristol trainer (on the plus side I suppose that lets me sit down!) I usually declare to my friends after about an hour of back and forth between this and the delightful toilets that my bed is calling so off I wobble home. Thankfully there has never been a trend in Bristol to wear heels clubbing so I have avoided a broken ankle. However I will wake up in the morning to multiple bruises, when I check with my friends how they were obtained I am told that particular smackers was on fall number 64!
Although this may sounds like a comedy sketch I have had some interesting confrontations on my nights out. One in particular has stuck with me from first year of uni. We had pre drinks in my halls where I drank a bit as did everyone but was not as far gone as my friends. We then queued up to get into the club. The bouncer let my friend in no problem (although I know she had had more than me). I was then promptly told to go away have some food and sober up before coming back. I know full well this is not due to being drunk but a result of my CP. I was wobbling around like a dodgy blamanche and in addition I have a squint which means that my eyes wander and do not look in the same direction. I guess it is not a particularly sober image to portray. I began to explain to the bouncer about my CP whilst my friend who had got in shouted ‘she’s disabled’. I know she had my best intentions at heart. Unfortunately this trick didn’t work so I used it as my cue to leave (I secretly didn’t want to go in so that was a win win for me). However it just goes to show that you will come across others that do not listen and respect those with disability. I simply use these experiences to prove those people wrong as they are not worth getting wound up about.