Team Sober

In this booze-cruise world of ours, a Saturday night can only mean one thing. I am 21, and the idea of staying in on a Saturday night with a box of maltesers, watching 'Splash' on ITV for the 3rd week running was too much for me to handle. At 8pm, I had given in and texted around to see what people were up to and invariably, given it was a Saturday night, there was bound to be something going on. Last night was no exception. But when you live in a world with a drinking culture as prominent as ours, it can be extremely difficult to muster up the courage to descend on the madness without downing a few swifters first. Last night however, for only the 2nd time ever, and the first time in a long, long time, I ventured out completely stone cold sober. Nobody knows the things I have seen. Although going out sober can be an awkward existence, it also provided me with a few enlightening views.

1. People assume you are drunk regardless.

Yes, whilst dancing to music that had more of a resemblence to a fire alarm than actual music, trying so desperately to not look as if I was simply shuffling around in a mediocre circular pattern, I noticed something peculiar. Upon meeting a few people I know, I got the distinct impression that they just thought I was as drunk as them. I can't exactly pinpoint why, but it is extremely frustrating when people treat you as if you've had a few too many, when all you've had is a few glasses of Red Bull. It goes without saying that conversation is hardly stimulating given the atmosphere, but to be asked the same question three times in a row is something you simply ignore when you're drunk. When you're sober, its just annoying. Also, when my friend stumbled into another party-goer, I had to apologise on his behalf given his inebriated state, and simply received a, "F*** you!" in reply ... Which is always nice isn't it. When you're drunk, it's all part of the game. When you're sober, it's just an insult. Lovely.

2. It's Winter. You can feel the cold!

Yep, you guessed it. For years simply going out in a t-shirt was fine, because the warmth that alcohol provides is enough to keep you sane before stepping inside a bar. Knowing I was going to be sober then, I wore a slightly thicker jumper in preperation, but you do not realise how cold it is at midnight in the middle of winter when you're the funnier side of drunk. When I stepped out of the taxi into the cold winter air, it felt as if I had landed in the Arctic Circle. Looking at my phone, I see the temperature is -2, but "feels like" -9. Red Bull sure can give you wings, but it can't give you warmth.

3. The reality of what you are actually doing sets in.

I've been dancing on the smallest dancefloor for an hour now, surrounded by hunters and huntees. It's the time of night where the men of the drinking world attempt to gather a mate for the evening and being in the middle of this Rumble in the Jungle, whilst completely sober, is a harrowing experience. Simply looking at a girl who someone else has spotted can lead to confrontation - a story I saw unravel in the middle of The Rose, when two guys pounced at the exact same moment and then ended up scrapping and being thrown out. When you are six shots deep, this is considered normal viewing. When you're simply wide awake due to caffeine overdose, you realise how ridiculous this is. The sight of a man throwing up in the corner of the place can be quite humourous when you're filled to the brim with JD - because it isn't you throwing up - but being sober and seeing this sight isn't exactly my idea of "good fun". Being jumped on by an old school friend whilst drunk is possibly the greatest thing to happen on a night out. When you're sober, and very cold, you do wonder if that person just broke one of your vertebrae. What am I actually doing here?

4. The "important" arguments of the night are seen for what they are. Childishness.

There was a few examples last night where I was stood listening to people arguing over the most silly and pointless things imaginable. A pair of "lads", (yep - that sort of human), nearly got into a fist-fight over 20p. Stood outside, trying to keep warm under one of the few heaters in the entire establishment, I watched as two fully grown men had a slanging match over the destination of a 20p coin. It was quite unbelievable. Stood at the bar, only 10 minutes later, an argument broke out between two girls over who was first in the queue. Another girl on the dancefloor pushed a guy for "brushing up against her", despite the size of the dancefloor meaning that everyone was pretty much doing the same to everyone. When you're pissed as newts, this seems as if its a common occurrence. When you're not, you do wonder what happens to brain cells when they are taken over by vodka and beer.

The only similarity between going out and drinking and going out and not drinking is the part when you get home and try to go to sleep. Sleeping is impossible when you still have the ringing of the outrageously loud music in your ears, and the alcohol still flowing around the blood. Last night, it was merely caffeine keeping me awake, and what for? So I can watch people get drunk? Is it worth it?

Oh, there are benefits, certainly. There are fewer casualties for starters, without the risk of vomiting on yourself, or spilling that expensive double vodka on your brand new top. I'm also sure my bank balance, which was braced for a battering, was wondering if I was feeling alright as I took a mere £10 out of the NatWest cash point. There is also the strangely good feeling of acting completely normally, and therefore rationally, surrounded by others who think that buying drinks for complete strangers is an act of social inclusion and a great way to make new friends.

However, at the end of the day, it wasn't amazing. Although there were amusing moments, there was a lack of spark, the absence of that priceless moment that defines a "night out". There was also a feeling of loneliness, a feeling that I was on a much higher social level than the drunks that surrounded me, (I wonder why that was?!), and slight frustration at feeling the need to make sure my totaled friends didn't get involved in the endless scrapes that occur. If given the choice to stay in or go out sober then, I would most probably go out. But as soon as another offer comes up, I will most probably take that one. It certainly wasn't up there as the greatest.

But better than watching Dom Joly belly flop into a swimming pool.