all dressed up and nowhere to go

Decked out in my disco getup (pink earrings, pink nails, pink and black bangles, a wanna-be-a-rock-star t-shirt and pink checked shoes), accompanied by 10 fabulous friends, I was ready to rock-and-roll all night long at Friday night’s roller disco, in celebration of my 23 years of existence. Instead, we ended up lost in Kings Cross, turned away at the entrance by ‘afro-hulk’ the bouncer, only to find ourselves back at the station with nowhere to go and me minus a precious, pink earring.
A spontaneous group verdict saw us head towards Piccadilly Circus for a good dose of raw fish at my new favourite Sushi spot, Kulu Kulu. On finding it at capacity, I surrendered and left the sourcing of a venue to those who had not been numbed by the cold and disappointment of flattened disco dreams.
By 11pm, I had balloons tied from practically every limb, been entertained by a somewhat offensive magician and endured a serenade by the wait staff in TGI Fridays while standing in full view of the entire restaurant. I’m inclined to think that this joint effort to amuse was led by Ian, Bron and Steve, who took great pleasure in watching my unsuspecting demeanour transform as further humiliation ensued.
An unforgettable birthday bash, turned into an equally memorable birthday weekend. I wont pretend that planning is my forte, because honestly, I tend to prefer it when things don’t work out. The best experiences are never itinerised. They’re unprompted and impulsive and if nothing else, leave you with something to write home about.