Nightclubs
Thinly-disguised entrances to Hell where bad things happen. Tell us your dancefloor disasters.
( , Wed 8 Apr 2009, 12:35)
Thinly-disguised entrances to Hell where bad things happen. Tell us your dancefloor disasters.
( , Wed 8 Apr 2009, 12:35)
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Slightly morbid
So, my first shift at my old job at a well-known club/gig-venue in King's Cross and was being given a guided tour around the venue...
"Red stairs...sound booth...balcony bar...place where that guy got shot..."
Cue double-take.
When I asked one of my colleagues later, he replied, "Thats why we don't have garage nights anymore..."
I worked there for 6 months, and loved it despite the crazy hours and the episode where some girl shat herself...
( , Sun 12 Apr 2009, 19:06, 4 replies)
So, my first shift at my old job at a well-known club/gig-venue in King's Cross and was being given a guided tour around the venue...
"Red stairs...sound booth...balcony bar...place where that guy got shot..."
Cue double-take.
When I asked one of my colleagues later, he replied, "Thats why we don't have garage nights anymore..."
I worked there for 6 months, and loved it despite the crazy hours and the episode where some girl shat herself...
( , Sun 12 Apr 2009, 19:06, 4 replies)
boy did you mis-gauge the tone of this place
you posted this but NOT the girl shitting herself incident?
( , Sun 12 Apr 2009, 22:14, closed)
you posted this but NOT the girl shitting herself incident?
( , Sun 12 Apr 2009, 22:14, closed)
Taxi for a Rachel?
Ok, picture the scene...
A Friday night, I forget what the exact event it was but I think it was some funky house and this invariably meant a lot of Essex guys in popped collars and their 'best' jeans whilst the girls were in the tiniest white shorts and alcopop glory.
A busy Friday night, and I'd just managed to serve enough people leaving me time for a quick wee break/make up check. Head to the loos on the top floor which are invariably quieter and am met by a group of girls screeching "Awwwww nooooo! Rachellllllll". Push my way through the banshee barricade and there sprawled, in all her drunken glory is Rachel.
Legs spread, knickers round her ankles, make-up all over her face, screaming like a strangled cat is a petite blonde sitting in a a pool of her own filth. It seems she'd tried to make it to the toilets but failed in her paraletic state, shat herself, slipped over in her heels and then vomited up yellow Reef all over her lovely self.
What a lovely sight. I loved that job.
( , Tue 14 Apr 2009, 23:04, closed)
Ok, picture the scene...
A Friday night, I forget what the exact event it was but I think it was some funky house and this invariably meant a lot of Essex guys in popped collars and their 'best' jeans whilst the girls were in the tiniest white shorts and alcopop glory.
A busy Friday night, and I'd just managed to serve enough people leaving me time for a quick wee break/make up check. Head to the loos on the top floor which are invariably quieter and am met by a group of girls screeching "Awwwww nooooo! Rachellllllll". Push my way through the banshee barricade and there sprawled, in all her drunken glory is Rachel.
Legs spread, knickers round her ankles, make-up all over her face, screaming like a strangled cat is a petite blonde sitting in a a pool of her own filth. It seems she'd tried to make it to the toilets but failed in her paraletic state, shat herself, slipped over in her heels and then vomited up yellow Reef all over her lovely self.
What a lovely sight. I loved that job.
( , Tue 14 Apr 2009, 23:04, closed)
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