I thought the hill was further

This weekend I had decided to prove to myself I still had it. You know, that x-factor that makes you young and ready to party. Friday night was my first weekend off in 2 weeks, we had a birthday party invite to a popular venue for a work colleague - Ah to be 27 again. As I got home from work I joined Craig in bed on a particularly humid afternoon, safe from the thunder and lightening outside. 

We had RSVPed to be there by 9, however, we fell into a deep sleep and found ourselves only waking at 10pm, somehow our bodies weren't cooperating. By 10h30 we were sitting around the table and it dawned on me that I was clearly at a venue that catered toward a more 'youthful' market. Hoards of people in their late teens and very early 20's filled the venue. All I could think about was why I wasn't having fun yet and why it was necessary for that girl with the denim shorts to be wearing those denim shorts in the first place. 

Shared Experiences

We ordered shots for the table (I wasn't drinking as I was driving) and the birthday boy was looking worse for wear. The conversation had run dry and I amounted the dragging pace to the fact that it was way, way past my bed time. Perhaps if I had drank a little it would have made a difference. Tired and worn faces requested the bill and that was the end of that. 

As we said our goodbyes outside the venue, the fresh air injected a second wind on the evenings conversation. The birthday boy, now hunched over like Quasimodo's long lost brother, suddenly piped, "Ok, Im going to bed, I can't take it any more, I'm exhausted". Right bang in the middle of my sentence we all turned and parted ways as if a cold icy wind cut through our huddled circle. It was in fact, time to retire for the 2nd time that day.

Keep Pushing On

Saturday was no different. This time we had two 30th birthday parties to divide ourselves among. The one started late afternoon in Primrose, the other 8pm in Fourways. We bundled ourselves into the car, dressed in our Taekwondo Doboks for the said dress up party. Scattered souls greeted us at the gate, almost planted to the ground, a long distance wave for good measure. After a brief visit and a return to our local suburb we left for the 2nd party at 22h30. I recall telling myself that this is the time that party-goers party. This is the time when things heat up and the vibe is at its best. 

We had booked the taxi for 2am. I had consumed 3 light ciders and 1 shooter (rock 'n roll aren't I) and by 12pm our group of friends found ourselves bobbing side to side on the dancefloor. In the back of my head, something was amiss. I kept thinking about the creak in my knee, the pain in my feet and tomorrows consequences of my alcohol consumption. I remember days when I could easily process 4 times the amount of alcohol I did that night, and here I was wondering when the taxi would get there. All in all we managed to avoid fisticuffs with a youngster who was looking for trouble, watch a very drunk young lady collapse all over a couple of gents and eventually while curled up on the couch with throbbing soles, I had decided that this scene just didn't cut it for me anymore.

Turning Points

So where did it all change? Was it somewhere between a physical number in age or was it that I had found love and my priorities were different? Perhaps my stance on drinking and my inability to hold down a mere 2 glasses of wine was influencing the pay off of spending a valuable evening in my life in the throws of adolescent entertainment. That point that happens to you at some stage of your life when you refer to deep house as "doof doof" music and you just can't handle the crowds. What happened to those nights of relentless dancing, cigarettes and Tequila shots. What happened to the "Oooih Oooih!" at the end of every beat?

Sunday morning I woke up sick as a dog, I revisited my ciders in the bathroom, shaking from a Vitamin B overdose (my recommended hangover cure) and proceeded to spend most of Sunday in my underwear like a civilised hobo in my own home. Its not that I was hungover, it was that I was so determined to bounce back without feeling the consequences that I managed to take 3 times the amount of Vitamin B that I was supposed to in one day. Unaware of my mistake that 3rd tablet was swallowed just before my escape to my room, just after my early morning egg on toast á la Craig - hmmmm. 

My body rebukes my choices in more ways than one and its Sunday morning when I regret fussy and fighting to make all these appearances, spending all that money and losing out on precious peaceful time at home with the things that matter most to me. Over the hill or just far away? (from the rest of the crowd) Either way its happening to me and I know I'm not alone.