Is there such a thing as overage nightclubbing?

Some of you may remember partying Thursday to Sunday and going to work Monday unaffected by the lack of sleep. What about having a big Wednesday night til 3 am and going to work the next day sipping on Powerade and eating greasy food?

I remember turning 18 and the only thing on my mind was getting an outfit for the big night. Smirnoff black was nothing but weak cordial and I wanted to participate in any drinking game. I didn’t mind mixing drinks and could dance the night away.

Fast forward 20 years and I look back and think – What the hell? how did I do it?

I was recently invited to a gathering at a friends house on Saturday and enjoyed the food and the music so much, that I found myself at the bottle shop deciding what to drink to enjoy the rest of the night (when I say the rest of the night, I mean up until 11 pm). I quickly walked past the vodka Smirnoff selection and headed for something light.

The party was going great until I heard someone shout ‘Let’s go out!’. Out? What did that mean?

I was tipsy and thought, why not?. I phoned Mr Peepaw and told him I was going ‘out’, he asked me ‘out as in out out?’ yes! OUT OUT! (double ‘out’ means nightclubbing)

I looked at my wardrobe and all I could see was black. I put together an outfit that I thought was great and didn’t scream ‘i haven’t been nightclubbing for 10 years.’

We waited in line to enter the nightclub, I got my I.D ready to show the bouncer and when I reached the front of the line he looked at me and didn’t bother asking for my I.D, he just ushered me to the payment desk. I wanted to question the security lad but choked when the young lady collecting entry fee said ‘that’ll be $30 dollars, sweetheart’. I asked her if she was serious and she rolled her eyes and pointed to the entry fee sign.

The night club was lit up with strobe lights flashing and the music was at full volume. The outfit and shoes I was wearing screamed ‘i haven’t been nightclubbing for 100 years’.

I walked to the bar and waited in line and felt old when a person out of sympathy told the bartender to serve me before them. I felt like an elderly person that needed to be served first. I ordered a drink that cost $15, I nearly fainted and thought, for $15 plus $30 entry fee, i could’ve gone to town in Kmart. 

A song played that I recognised and made my way to the dance floor to do my 2 step dance move. I was hit in the face by flying hair from the group of people next to us who were doing god knows what dance moves. I then felt a sharp pain, someone had stood on my toe in their stilettos. I limped off the dance floor and found a stool to sit on. My other girlfriends were enjoying themselves and all I could think about was my warm king size bed. Then came the deal breaker that sent me packing.

A person walked towards me, smiling and giggling. She stood in front of me and yelled to her friends ‘oh my god, I thought It was you, hey girls, this is Ms Peepaw, she was my under 14s coach’. They gave me drunk hugs and kisses and invited me to come and sit with them.

I phoned Mr Peepaw and asked him to pick me up. I had a shower and changed into my pyjamas and crawled into bed. The next morning I woke up and felt pain all over my body and had a throbbing headache. I crawled out of bed like i was auditioning for a horror movie, looking for water and the voltaren cream. Mr Peepaw laughed at me and watched me suffer and asked if I was going ‘out out’ next weekend. I lay on the couch like a dead duck and told him ‘hell no!’.

To the people that rock it with the young ones, I applaud you. To the people doing the walk of shame, I double applaud you. To the people up to date with fashion and can fit into outfits they were wearing when they were 18, I applaud you so hard that my hands fall off.

Penelope Peepaw