(C) Copywritten 2003
����������� Thursday night is pub night at my school. It is a collective group of hours where those who are so inclined to gather at the school pub for another evening of wild dancing and fruitful alcohol consumption. It is a chance for the young at heart and the eagerly willed go to fulfill their weekly cravings for the social feast they seek so badly.
����������� Yeah, I go to pub nights. I have been since school started this year. I never thought I would venture the trip in all my previous months of attending my school, but for some reason, I decided to go the first week this year, and it has been a weekly ritual ever since.
����������� On this cool night, like every other, I lock up my transportation and enter the school. Usually, like I said, I like to go early to avoid the herds. Sometimes, it's simply unavoidable.
����������� We all have stood in lines in our lives. There are the lines the teachers tell you to form and stay in when you are suppose to do anything in a group of kids in grade school. There are the lines we shuffle in day and day out to and from our jobs. There are the lines that direct our traffic, and the lines that point us to our destinations. Some of us try to stay between the lines, and other try to read what is between them. The line-up at the pub most nights is thick and winding if you aren't there in time.
����������� On this night, I have arrived in plenty of time. There is no line, save for the one long black one that splits the hall in two: one side for underage pub-goers, and one for my kind. At the head of this line is the nest of the bouncers. Usually two or three there are. Sporting their black labeled furs, they are the guardian gorillas of the pub.
����������� Gorillas are big, aren't they? You see them in the zoo or on video and you think to yourself "my goodness those things are huge. I bet they could just run right over most animals and not even break a sweat." Well, you are probably right, but have you ever seen a gorilla fight? I haven't. I can't say I have seen too many gorillas in a bad mood. They are usually pretty mellow, as long as you aren?t throwing rocks at them or trying to get in their way. In fact, they can be pretty calm and cheery in some cases.
����������� The bouncers keep an eye on the line that grows before the gates they monitor. I am right up there with them, being the first one in line. As much as I want to, I usually don't talk much with the bouncers. I figure they have enough on their minds without me pestering them. What would you say to them anyway? It's kind of like asking what one would ask a gorilla if they thought the gorilla would actually give an answer.
����������� From the same doors, the people trickle in. Girls and boys, tall and skinning, short and meaty, they all step into place. The shapes and sizes spirals all over the spectrum. Some wear reds, blues, whites, blacks, browns, golds, and silvers. Some speak quickly, sharply, quietly (like me), loud, rapidly, or not at all. Within minutes of the opening of the gates, most are impatient, and it's like a jungle.
����������� Finally the gates are opened and the crowd is set loose into the pub. What a valley of sights and sounds awaits us as we pile in. Most of us are quick to reach the bar, where the artificial fountains of vitality and spirit are. There, we all meet the bartenders.
����������� Squawking sharply to be heard over the music and racket of the bar, the tenders flock from patron to patron, gathering information and money as they go. Sometimes the feathers on these birds of paradise are among the most colourful to look at. Other times, though, they can be just plain foul.
����������� Across the river of swimming lights and sounds, upon his perch, the DJ is situated. This monkey is very often the self-proclaimed life of the party. Always screeching and bellowing, he dances around foolishly with his big earphones protruding from either side of his head. There are some that say that we has humans have a lot in common with the carefree and clueless chimps, and that we even may have all used to be exactly like them. I personally think that this particular one, with his supposed wit and phony charm, could do with a couple thousand years of evolution. I won't doubt that in the chaotic and energetic vibrations of our midnight parties at the pub, he isn't entirely out of place.
����������� So more and more of the heard tramples into the pub. By this time I've had maybe one or two drinks. The room is warming up, and the DJ has called the attention of the crowd to the waitress near the entrance of the bar who was given the unfortunate task of standing where she is and selling the "cheap" beer of the night. The pub is usually selective of who gets this job, and the decision is usually to go with some slender, intoxicating miracle of nature--just a peaceful doe in the midst of a raging jungle.
����������� The hunters of the crowd, including that buffoon of a DJ, are always quick to target this innocent splendor standing near the watering hole with their taunts and jeers shooting from their influenced, cocky mouths. Personally, I see it as somewhat distasteful and destructive, but I'm not about to go changing any hunting laws. I suppose, for my part, a glance here and there at the timid creature is enough. I don't suppose I?d ever have the nerve of creeping closer for a better look--that might scare it away.
����������� So now it's time to get down to business. The rhythm is in motion and the room is a bustle with activity. Those untamed enough to brave the dance floor are shaking, jumping, sliding, twisting and moving to the sounds of the night. Not long after I join them do I begin to see some of the more exotic animals up close.
����������� There is always a large selection of minxes and foxes out there, since they are usually the ones that are the first to leap into action. They are sly creatures indeed. If one is lucky enough to catch one in his embrace, the rewards are beyond recognition. I find that more often than not, they are too quick and cunning for me. Whether or not that is the case, I suppose I really should seek out more of these sleek and slender creatures.
����������� Very often on the tails of the exotic ladies are the snakes. Slithering their way in and out of whatever group they can crawl into, these guys are just looking to wrap themselves around whatever they can find. It's hard to dodge a snake, especially a persistent and deceiving one that manages to catch the unprepared in its mesmerizing glances and charms. While their persistence and their rate of successful hunts never ceases to astound me, there is something about these slinking characters that just seems immoral to me. But then again I couldn't tell you how many times good friends of mine have told me that the easiest way to catch the tail you seek is to hunt it like a snake.
����������� Finally, you have the all out, off the wall animals out there. I mean these people are just nuts. I've seen some people there that just throw whatever they have wherever it goes and wherever it lands is anyone's guess. They bounce and spin and twitch in ways you never thought were possible in nature. Some of them are fierce and almost monstrous, others are quick and speedy. They all move though, you can be sure of that--always alive with the essence of movement and life.
����������� And now, the fires have burned down, and the crisp air of the night has all but settled completely. I find myself outside the jungle now, enjoying a view of the stars before I journey home. How they twinkle so brilliantly, watching over our every primal motion. For now, I am exhausted, and I'm going to get some sleep. Chances are I?ll be back on the trail again next week though.
