Off Topic With Ashley

I wasn’t even going to go out. I’d been out the night earlier and while I wanted to, I couldn’t quite justify going out two nights in a row. In the end the social argument won out over the monetary one, so I got ready and headed in to the city to meet the gang.

The main problem was that I’d left so late. Actually, the main problem was that I’d ended up arriving before everyone else. Nay, the real, fundamental problem was that I’d failed the Facebook reading comprehension exercise and arrived at the wrong place entirely.

I’d shown up to Rosies, because that’s where we usually go. I’d paid the $12 cover, because that’s what we usually pay. I’d walked upstairs because that’s where we usually go. Nobody told me it was the wrong place, but where the mini-skirts, bling, and and trashy low-cut tops weren’t enough to trigger the “something’s wrong” receptor in my brain, the complete lack of anything happening upstairs sounded the alarms.

I poked my head through the door and there were three metal guys sitting around a bar table. I un-poked my head, and then re-poked it again just to make sure I saw correctly, and we all kind of looked at each other for half a second. I un-poked myself through the doorway again, and descended the stairs back onto the street feeling like a bit of a cock, and called Laura to find out exactly where I’d gone wrong.

“Gossip!” she cried back. Apparently Saturday funk was code word for “Gossip” at Club 299. I walked from the city to the valley, only stopping to watch some wankers roll beer kegs down Adelaide street into oncoming traffic.

So I got to 299, met up with Heather who was looking decidedly awesome theat evening, climbed the decidedly more awesome set of stairs into the decidedly more awesome club, where I met Ross who had also arrived somewhat decidedly early.

It was a wonderful night out. I didn’t drink much, and that which I did spent more time down my front than anywhere else. The music was a bit disappointing because I was expecting a little more indie rock and a little less I’m On A Boat, and I didn’t find out until I left that the party was actually happening downstairs — if you take “party” to mean six people dancing to a DJ spinning Modest Mouse.

The real kerfuffle happened when I’d left though. I took helen to get a taxi because she was pretty much wasted, and after that and a brief false start I headed to the appropriate bus stop and waited.

I made friends with some drunk, (most likely) straight, but highly ambiguous guys, and in my haste to escape got on the wrong bus. It was entirely my fault, although the display was faulty so the 7 looked like a 1. I got off at the Cultural Centre, walked back to the city, and had another hour wait for my next bus.

It was a really shitty experience meandering around a dead, drunken city at 3 AM with nothing to do. After the city went into lock-down, the flow of drunkenness headed toward the casino which I was disgusted to find was immune to the law and continued to let people in. The bus stop being just around the corner was subject to all kind of affairs, and it was a really unpleasant experience.

I finally got home as the sun was rising, and was livid to find that while the Translink journey planner had explicitly told me that they weren’t, the trains were in fact running. I could have saved more than an hour of waiting and a twenty minute walk if I’d known that, and it was especially infuriating to watch the stupid Caboolture service rattle along the rails as I took a short-cut through Virginia station.

All in all it was a good night, if the lack of planning ruined things. I got home okay in the end, and limited my expenditure to sixty bucks which was a thrifty enough night out. I’d do it again, but I am terribly jaded toward Brisbane public transport, and will most likely avoid it completely next time.