I am skateboarding down the road. I’m heading for a club.
“Hopetosse” or something like that. I found it on Google. Traced out the directions on Google Maps.
Everything is annoying. Life is bad. I need some clubbing in my system this night.
I am at Hopetosse. There is a queue of some sort. I join.
It’s my turn to go in. The bouncer guy looks at me. He is asking for something. I wonder what he is asking for.
He is saying something. Tonight’s event is by invitation only, something like that.
Ugh. Bloody hell. Ah. Everything is terrible.
I am walking back. This is such a terrible night. Everything is bad. Even the nightclub I intended to visit was not accessible.
Someone is calling out to me. Some guy across the road. I wonder what’s up with him. I’m thinking he could be a drunk homeless guy, but I don’t know- this guy sounds too confident and clear-voiced to be a drunk homeless guy.
I walk up to him. We begin talking. He is German. He is tall. He is very tall. He is like six foot seven. I like him. I like very very tall people.
We keep talking. His name is Michi. He has had such a great night. And he also had such a great day. We keep talking about how great of a time he has been having.
He is in a very good mood.
I tell him about the severely disheartening event at Hopetosse.
He tells me not to worry. Says he has a friend who manages a club nearby. Says it’s a very selective club, but that he can get me in.
Ohhhh. Okay. Okay. Maybe tonight won’t be so terrible after all.
Now I myself am beginning to get in a good mood.
We are at the club.
The name is “Sisyphos”.
I am talking with his friend. I think he is the manager of the club. He is also very tall.
Wow I like these guys, they are so tall.
We keep talking. There’s another guy- one of the managers I presume. His girlfriend is next to him. I think her arm is around his neck.
He’s telling me about how he dropped out of an Architecture college programme a while back. He tells me about a motorbike roadtrip he undertook across a number of countries in West Africa.
My eyes are wide open with admiration.
The manager guy asks me what I’m doing in Berlin. I tell him school. I’m a college student.
He goes, “Oh so you’re a smart one!”
I don’t know what he is talking about. I think I’m actually seriously considering dropping out and going on motorbike road trips like his friend.
At some point they welcome me into the club.
The club is going to be open all weekend. From Friday night till early Monday morning. Nonstop. Wow. These German guys really mean business with their clubbing.
I don’t have enough cash in hand for the gate fee. And I think paying with my card is problematic. Michi has a female French friend who is also here to club. Her name is Virginie. She helps me with the additional required Euros. I’m to pay her back later. We exchange contact details.
Oh wow these people are so friendly. This night has taken such a dramatic turn for the better.
I am in the club. I am in one of the halls. Berlin generally has this lyricless Techno House kind of music that’s like everywhere. Initially I found it very strange, but I think I’m gradually getting the hang of it.
I keep dancing to the Berlin lyricless Techno House kind of music.
I am outside. I’m on the way to check out another hall.
On the way, I contemplate the ethics of clubbing as a boyfriend. What should I and should I not do in a nightclub, when I have a girlfriend (who is not with me in the club)?
What is allowed? What is right? I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.
I am in another hall. This place has so many halls. I have a lot of regard for these German guys. This club gives me a lot of respect for them.
I am dancing. I take some puffs of someone’s marijuana.
Wait, where the hell did he go. Isn’t he going to take it back? I don’t understand, what
I keep dancing. Every once in a while, I find myself in a situation which brings to mind my earlier contemplation on what is right to do in a nightclub when you are in a committed relationship with someone somewhere.
I keep dancing.
It is in the early hours of the morning. I am on the way out of the club. I come across the tall manager guy. We shake hands and laugh. He has such big hands. I let him know how much of a great time I had, and how much regard I now have for German nightclubs.
You’re going home alone? You’re a loser.
I’m not quite sure what he means.
Wait do you have a girlfriend?
Yeah! Yeah I do.
The expression on his face changes. I am not quite sure how to interpret it.
I am back at my apartment.
For some reason the girlfriend is still up. She is at her place. We’re messaging. I let her know how much of a great time I had. Told her about the club managers I met.
She doesn’t seem too excited. She has become weird recently.
Very serious. Always thinking and talking about CVs and career and internships and all that stuff.
It annoys me so much. She used to enjoy hearing about my clubbing stories. That was one of the things she liked about me when we started dating. Now it feels like she passively disapproves.
I don’t like how it makes me feel.
It makes me feel like the nonchalant boyfriend who goes clubbing all the time and for some reason seems unconcerned with CVs and internships and career stuff, which unarguably are the absolutely most important things in life. More important than food or air to breathe even.
I keep thinking about what a great night I had.
It was a great night.
I don’t care if the girlfriend disapproves.
Okay. maybe a little.
Just a little.
Image: Berlin. A different night.