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  • Writer's pictureGrace Hamilton

6 Reasons Not To Go Clubbing

It’s never a good look when you rock up to the family brunch still smelling like vodka red bulls - especially when paired with the clumps of dried mascara that seem to stick to the corners of your eyes. Oh yes, the eyes that didn’t get nearly enough down time during your latest clubbing ad-notreallyworthit-venture. But other than the next-day trauma brought on by SnapChat memories and uncalled for reminders from friends, what isn’t to love? Perhaps, it’s getting absolutely plastered and spilling your deepest secrets to the semi-hot bartenders while they sake (not stir) your drinks. Regardless, there’s 6 things that I am convinced can run a good night out, and they happen to all be found at the clubs.

NUMBER SIX: the sweaty bodies. What is there to like about this? I sacrificed my self-hygiene all night by jumping up and down to shitty music for zero benefit. All I got was some crisp sweat drops from the people who seemed to forget the dance floor was not a one-person venue.

NUMBER FIVE: the transport. Going in and out of the city is perhaps the biggest conundrum of a night out. No one goes clubbing and volunteers to stay sober! But then again, the price of an Uber these days is rising at the same rate as the Sydney COVID cluster. So that leaves one option: call mum? Are you crazy? She’ll have you on laundry duties for the next week. Moral of the story: it’s a lose-lose situation.

NUMBER FOUR: the late night. I’m sorry gen-z, but I just don’t think I’m cut out for this whole all-nighter thing. The one thing on my mind throughout my latest Valley venture, was how much I’d rather be in bed with the blankets up to my chin and dreaming about – well, anything really. So, I’m making that executive decision to be home well before the sun comes up.

NUMBER THREE: the line ups. This is the way I see it: stand on side of street, give licence to scary man, let scary man decide if you look the 16-year-old in that awful quality picture, thank scary man awkwardly, enter building full of wasted people dancing to mediocre remix music. Is that meant to entice me? Mission incomplete.

NUMBER TWO: the bathrooms. Look, I want to keep this one PG, but it will be hard. The blue lighting might stop some from shooting up, but I’m sure people these days have come up with some ‘2021 methods.’ And on top of that, I could barely tell if the sticky floors were a result of missed attempts at the toilet, or just pure sick. Either way, my first bathroom break was indeed my only.

NUMBER ONE: the prices. I don’t just mean the entry fee (because to me, that seems like a scam rather than a ‘thanks for coming, have a nice night’). The cheapest drink on any menu I saw was $13. It might not sound like a huge investment, but I can think of a few better things to waste money on.

All in all, the aftermath of a big night out (and all its hang-over glory) takes the cocktail for ‘worst sacrifice to benefit’ ratio. Big call for someone who voluntarily eats Brussels Sprouts.

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