We were in London to meet with potential booking agents and play a show at The Old Blue Last. The show was fantastic and we met some wonderful booking agents but I don’t know how to make that sound interesting to a London in Stereo reader. So I am going to talk to you about a party that we went to!
I’m a straight edge vegan (as punk as can be) so I don’t often look forward to parties unless I know that my most outgoing friends are going to be there, or that the DJ will be fantastic. I’m sure drinking is fun but it’s not for me and too many events are boring unless you’re in an altered state. So we walked into the party and I made a beeline for the back corner of the dance floor, next to the water cooler on the bar, so that I could always be holding a glass of water and wouldn’t have to fidget with my phone as much as I would if both my hands were empty.
After about three minutes of people watching (Summary: Americans wear Jordans and Brits wear Air Max; this DJ talks too much) a stranger approached. Uh-oh. She’s spilling her drink everywhere and we just made eye contact. SOS! I tried to make a run for it but it was too late: she was already dancing with us and there was no way to back out without being a dickhead.
Then I realised that I already was being a dickhead – this girl was so nice! I should chill. The music was too loud for us to hear what her name was but I think she said she was from Ibiza. My friend and I ended up dancing with her and her friends until her mate took my phone and followed himself on Instagram. I discreetly unfollowed him, then we left and I went to bed.