I went to my first European rave last night. It was held in an old Tube station down by Trafalgar Square. The venue is actually a club called Heaven, but every month or so they have a big party that goes to 9 am. The music was really good, a DJ I have heard very little about played, his name is Andy Farley, and he was amazing. Good old hard house, the kind they don’t play anymore in the US. I had a nostalgia moment, I missed being 17 and raving all across Virginia with my insane raver friends. I had such a good time, the only thing that could have been better was if C—— and the rest of my friends could have been here.
Well, there was one other little thing that could have been better; I wish I had a car! See the problem is I did not find out about the party till almost midnight, for a French guy who lives down the hall from me and his brother who was visiting him. They where going with some friends of theirs and the car was full. Problem is the Tube closes at midnight. Well I was really itching to go out, so I decide (along with two other guys who live on my floor) to walk to the party. Now we left her about ten till midnight. 40 minutes latter we got to Trafalgar and the club. I danced way too much and now every muscle in my body aches. We did not leave till almost nine am! I have forgotten how long eight hours of clubbing is! Anyway, I crawled into bed at ten am and got up at three-ish! Right now it’s three thirty in the morning and I just took my pants off the hook on the back of my door (where I hung them to dry) so I could throw them in my dirty clothing pile, and they are still damp!
As for the dirty clothing pile, I am afraid of it… I know that buried in there are at least three shirts from nights I went down to the pub, and my cloths from last night. And I know that if I disturb that pile then I will unleash a “London Smog Demon!” Because over here smoking is more endemic than in the US and they don’t have big air ventilators to keep the air circulating, so the smell is twice as bad in anything you ware out. Not to mention that I think that the cigarettes over here are different, either that or my reaction to them is getting worse. Every time I walk into the pubs or past someone who is smoking my eyes begin to physically hurt, like they are bruised, and they water like I am crying.)
Anyway some time tomorrow I will have to fight the London Smog Demon, so I can have something to ware next week.