I Got Thrown Out Of A Bar

(at least the title of this post alone makes me seem cooler than I am)

I am a moron. This is a well-known fact about my life, that I’ll happily admit at any point, whether I’ve done anything particularly idiotic recently; but last night I did something very idiotic indeed – I was thrown out of a bar for wearing trackies.

For those of you who are unaware, I wear Lonsdale tracksuit trousers constantly; what started out as a genuine desire for practical legwear – they’re more comfortable, easy to take off in case of sudden toilet breaks, and cheaper than jeans – has become a bit of a ‘thing’, because I realise that jeans really aren’t that bad, but kinda continue relentlessly looking like a participant in the 2011 London Riots because I’m more comfortable with that as a ‘look’. And yes, I’m aware of the irony of wearing clothes that I originally liked as a rejection of appearance, for the sake of appearance – I did say I’m a moron.

And so last night, I went to a bar that I won’t name because the bar itself was honestly wonderful and I’d like to spend a whole day there instead of a frakking hour, walked in at eight, hung out with friends for a bit, then left to get chips and return, because chips. When I got back, however, there was a bouncer who wasn’t there before, and I was promptly told to piss off (which I did because I’m not quite enough of a moron to pick a fight with a bouncer).

Initially, I was pissed off – not at the bouncer themselves, because that’d be like getting angry at a BT call centre worker because you don’t like Jake Humphrey’s hosting of the Premier League, which is ineffectual and just leaves everybody involved feeling upset – and formulated several authority-undermining, bar-destroying plans while listening to Minor Threat, and went to see a different group of friends, while I felt like shit. But a few hours, and a surprisingly enjoyable watching of 10 Things I Hate About You, later, I felt fine again, and realised that if a bar wants to attract a certain ‘kind’ of people (those who make an effort not to look like they’re about to burn the place down), those are their rules, which might be a bit naff, but I still have to play by them if I’m going to use their facility. And I’d like to still be pissed off, that I should be free to wear what I like, where I like, and not be thrown out of places, but I’m honestly too disinterested in my appearance for it; I said that I liked my look of a hoodie and tracksuit, which I do, but I like my friends more, and am honestly more pissed off I threw a bit of a spanner in the works of their party – they were sad and accepting of the situation, but I’m sure none of them imagined this would happen – than I personally didn’t get to hang out in a bar.

Happily though, said party will resume tonight – because why spend one night celebrating a birthday when you can spend two? – at different late-night establishments with things like bouncers and a burning sense of superficial judgements and a lack of personal value and worth based on arbitrary choice of clothes, and I have learned my lesson to wear some ‘nicer’ trousers, Hell maybe even the jumper I wore on work experience instead of my hoodie with a hole torn open in the front!

But if anyone tries to take my trainers away they can frak off – I must draw the line somewhere.


2 thoughts on “I Got Thrown Out Of A Bar

Leave a comment if you want to prove you're human

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s