clubbing

She came to see me from her hometown by passenger train. We'd already been together for quite a while, over a year, I think, but it doesn't really matter. 5:52 p.m., Śródmieście Station, I pick her up, smile, kiss, etc. Directions: subway, we're going to my place. I'm a romantic, well, I definitely was, so it's a shock for her when we enter the cottage. In winter, at 7 p.m., it's already dark, so she walked in and was blown away. The cottage is covered in roses, the whole room is pink, the floor, the bed, everything is full of flowers, plus candles everywhere, just wow, and Erykah Badu in the background, because everyone knows Badu is the best for sex. And it goes on like this: soul music in the background, wine in our hands, we drink, talk, embrace, and finally have quick sex. The evening promised to be great, or at least that's how it started. We didn't have much time because we had to be at the rotunda by 9 p.m., obviously, a Friday party was planned. Another subway, a lineup with a guy who was already waiting for us. Directions: Monopoly, supplies, double-zero sevens, and we head to the square where they were already waiting for us. Hey, hey, everyone, and we're drinking, standard... In an hour and a half, my friend and I have sorted out our accessories and ordered a taxi; it's time to start clubbing!

A familiar student club is in front of us, the familiar line to get in, the familiar waiting room, and well-known brands of beer in our hands. At this point, I should have realized that not everything is as good as we thought it would be. There are problems getting in, because we're supposed to pay, and why should we? We're students, after all! We have IDs, damn it! We explain that the line was long and that we were already here before 10 p.m., that we deserve free entry, and what does that even mean, but it's no use, it's pointless, we have no chance. We're desperate, so we act accordingly, so the guy says he'd like to speak with the club manager. Okay, come on in, I didn't know such an innocent text would work so quickly on security.

It's a mess inside, few people, not much of anything at all. We realize we might not have enough alcohol in our bloodstream, so we quickly go to the bar, ask for six shots of tequila, then another six, and I don't know how much there was, and I don't know if anyone cares. After drinking, we're supposed to take a piss and hit the dance floor, which we did. We dance, and it turns out there's just the right amount of alcohol, but something's still missing. We decide the atmosphere's lacking, that it's time to do something about it. It's hay, it's time to go somewhere else. Some girls are also approaching me, some old friends. Why the hell should I recognize them all right away? You can't see I'm drinking! You can't see I'm having fun! Getting out wasn't so easy because something was wrong with my jacket in the cloakroom, or rather with the cash register. So I try to help, I do. I didn't help, quite the opposite, I think I broke it because it got stuck, and again, problems. Oh well, I'll wait outside. And so I wait, and I decide I'll go get them because they're taking a while to come out. And of course, as if it could have been any other way, there's an immediate scandal with security because they won't let me in, because I left and now I'm not coming back in, and kiss your ass. That's it. A taxi was waiting for us, so I got in. Remember, if the party starts off well, it can get worse; there's no rule that it'll be okay all the time.

We get off at another well-known club, this time known for its hip-hop, because it's downtown, and that 50s on Fridays are five. We go in, and the security looks at me strangely today, because right from the start, they're asking if I can handle it. I say I can handle it, and he says, "Okay, come on in." Man, it's hot, it's hot! My first thoughts when I saw what was going on here: delicious old-school music, tons of guys and girls having a blast on the dance floor, and it was just absolutely amazing. After seeing this, I knew this was the place for tonight. Let's dance, let's dance to hip-hop! Let's have fun!

My head is heavy, the world slows down, the dance moves half as fast against my head, something's not right, I think. Does this make sense? Where's the sense? Oh, not really me, I'm thinking too much, I'm not having enough fun. Footsteps carry me to the bar, fifty milliliters please, they give me, plus orange juice. I sat down, staring at the glass, at how it sways in my hand. A muddy mess. Will you drink with us? Strange teenagers are waking me up. I'll drink. Cheers!

Time to get back to the dance floor, time to find the girl, have fun with her. She didn't come here for me to ignore her. Not to pour alcohol into myself, it's enough that she's studying somewhere. I get there, a guy dances with her, hugs her. I have the juice in my hand, no, I don't have it anymore, the juice is pouring down the guy's head. He looks at me in surprise, no longer looks, I see a fist, a target – me, an attack is coming!

You see, it's like this: I'm drunk, he's probably drunk too, and you don't feel any pain. It's a funny situation. I once played a game on my Plyak – boxing. You see fists flying, but you don't feel anything. That's exactly what happened, holy shit! Lewis vs. Gołota! My pumpkin's response to the fist was, fajting first class! I remember lying in the glass and them, the security guards, were separating us, throwing me on the couch. Totally drunk, I totally don't understand how they ask for my name. If I don't understand, I tell them to piss off. That was the wrong answer, I didn't like it, so I had a free ride on the floor of a well-known Warsaw club, known for its hip-hop, its location in the city center, and the fact that 50 on Fridays is a 50. Kick me out of the club! I didn't have time to lie down because he was already waiting. It turned out he was black and six feet tall. I should add that I'm frail and not six feet tall. The girl is crying, I'm pretending to be tough. Luckily, I was only pretending for a moment, and security saved me, thank you for that!

They ask if I should call the police. I've sobered up, so I say no, that it's my fault, and that I'm actually sorry. The security men liked my attitude, and they started giving me advice: if they were me, they'd call a taxi because I'm not going to get out of here alive. Luckily, there are taxis waiting outside the clubs, and luckily I didn't spend my last tenner. I got into the Mercedes with the girl and said good evening. I explained the situation to the taxi driver: I have ten, take us to the bus stop where my beloved nightclub is. He said, "Okay."

That's right, not okay, because he dropped us off at the wrong place, at a different stop. "Don't panic," I told the girl, "we'll definitely get there, it's okay. Just change at the right place, it has to work!" It didn't work out, we reached the bus depot; we can't get back to the cottage in three hours at the earliest." It's cold because it's December, we're starting to freeze.

What should we do? What should we do? Various thoughts swirled in my head. There's a snowstorm overhead, we'll feel it soon. Don't worry, the snowstorm isn't anything, the worst part was the wind, minus temperatures plus the wind. I've had better times. The night doesn't always end as it begins, I thought. There were still dogs, an old Polonez, what did I have to lose? I approached them and said I wasn't from Warsaw, that I didn't know the city, that I only knew where to stay, but how to get there, we were lost! Please help, give me a lift? They looked at me with a sneer. One scratched his beard, the other sighed and said, "Well, we can't, but wait, we'll take a ride and come back, see what we can do." They left.

The girl started panicking, telling me, "They won't come back, they won't come back," and repeating this for several minutes. I tried to comfort her; there was nothing else I could do. It was getting colder and colder, we slowly started to feel like we were in Siberia. We couldn't last much longer, so I thought, we had to do something. I didn't have time to do anything because the policemen arrived and stood next to us: "Did you want a ride?" Yes, we did. Get in.

We got in, it was a nice atmosphere, like in movies from the communist era. The men were nice, it was a shock, they kept talking about where you were from, etc. So I had to improvise, and it worked until they shone a flashlight directly in my eyes. "Were you fighting?!?" That's their question, sudden silence, consternation. I was in shock, I didn't know what to say, thinking, man, thinking, you have to get out of this somehow, you don't need a sobering-up station and four-eight. I'm in! I've only just realized I have a busted nose and a black eye. How could I have forgotten that???

You know, we came to Warsaw and wanted to see how people party, so we went to a club. And you know, we were dancing, having fun, and at one point I got punched, I don't even know why! They looked at each other, and I could tell they were thinking hard. Still silence, only the sound of the Polonez's engine. Finally, one of them spoke up: "You see, it's such a shitty place here." He smiled and patted me on the shoulder