I went to the MOS (Ministry of Sound) event in A Venue in Makati last Saturday with the Sun Valley Group. I, in a way knew what to expect, but I thought that I could actually withstand it. It was drizzling when we got there and the line was devastating to look at. Yet we fell in line, which made me a little bit grouchy because my allergies came up. It's either because of the heat or the anxiety of being there. Cause remains unknown.
So to ease the burning itch, Mitch and I treaded towards Burger Avenue to find a cool spot. We ended up eating there as our friends already went inside the event. Mitch got the Garlic Cheese and I got the usual burger. It was good, especially their onion rings. Burgers are grilled and it reminds me of a better or same version of burgers in Carl's Junior. As we finished up, I realized that I just wanted to stay at Coffee Bean. But that's kind of stupid since we're there for the event. Encouraged and supported by Mitch, we went back to the line which already became longer and more devastating.
We were being dutiful as we fell in line; and I felt sorry for Mitch because I know he'd just want to get through and witness the event. Luckily there was this bouncer who went to our side and informed us to transfer to door number 2 where the line was shorter. We immediately sprinted there only to find out that the line in Door number 2 was worse! I immediately thought that there was no way I'd go through that snake of a line, and no room going back the previous line, which we have already forfeited due to misconstrued information.
The guy who is in charge of door number 2 wanted to shove us away as we were blocking the entrance. I politely asked if it was indeed the only DOOR number 2. Since we were guest listed, I'm hoping there's a smaller door number three to save us from lining up. But apparently he firmly said, that it was the only door number two and we had to fall in line. Magic words put the "pissed" cherry on my top.
I looked for the bouncer who told us to move like searching for evidence.
"Kuya, that guy, yun ang nagsabi sa amin to leave our line and go to Door number 2."
"Ma'am, this is door number two and you have to fall in line like everybody else."
"The thing is kuya we did. We were at Door number 1 falling in line, but he told us to transfer to door number two, which is unfortunately here as you said. And don't ask us to go back to door number 1 because we've already forfeited our spot." Do I sound like a logical game to you?
Then there's this girl who also complained that she was asked to transfer to door number 2.
The inevitable happened. We shattered the man's defenses. He was rattled. He scratched his head and asked me how many were we in the group. I said two. He cleared the way and allowed Mitch and I to go in. As we entered Mitch and I could hear the other girls, falling in line in door number 2, cussing at us. But at that point, I didn't care. Cuss at the bouncer who made us transfer here. We fell in line just like what you did. Do not blame us for anyone else's incompetencies. It would only take a minute, believe me. It's as if their make ups will turn to acid if they missed a minute or two from the event.
And so we entered, had a moment's conflict in the booth, eventually got our wrist pass, got stamped and went in. Inside, it was kind of chaotic for me, but I understand that it was the place where "heart thumping music, Darkness and partyphiles" thrive. I clutched Mitch's hand and forged on. I asked AJ to get me a drink and hoped to just get drunk and woozy in the process. Stress on optimal levels, the drink might prove helpful.
Again, for the 100th time, it wasn't my cup of tea, but it was bearable. People, who often go and judge these events, said that it was successful. I even liked the Nokia ring tone-song some dj made up, but I had to nurse my sore feat; and painful eyes from the smoke. But I'm in no position to complain. I went here on my own accord and I shall observe or suffer if I must.
At nearly 4 am I got home, washed my face, brushed my teeth, changed my clothes and collapsed on my bed. When I woke up, JD my younger brother, was staring at me and tried to treasure the moment. He said I perfectly fit well wearing my worn out pajamas with a white band encircled on my right wrist. He was pondering with the thought that I'd be actually taken away to a mental hospital as he prepared to faint for joy. But I woke up, tearing the band and giving it to him while I voluntarily ranted of what happened to my night. Sensing that I was in my perfectly normal self, he threw the wrist band out of frustration and dashed away. I grabbed the band and thought it would serve as a perfect reminder for my rare-experience survival, but then keeping memoirs is not my also my cup of tea, so I threw the band in the trashcan and prepared to live another day.
***One reason why I refuse to move....the pain!!!