Road House

Last Saturday after a really fun day I was in such a good mood I decided I didn’t want to go home but wanted to go dancing instead. So I headed to Covent Garden on my own to Road House where I knew they would play cheesy music and where I would be able to get in and dance for a while.

Sure enough they had a band who was playing anything from Guns and Roses to Emeli Sande and although early the club was pretty full. I was surprised to see that it also wasn’t full of groups of horny blokes but there were a lot of pretty girls there too. After about twenty minutes of dancing a black guy in his thirties came up to me and started dancing next to me, I assumed this was because I was such a good dancer that this black dude had to come and dance with me. But then he whispered in my ear in an accent which was a mixture of African and maybe Detroit “Hey, dude, I’m from New York, I’ve got your back.”

“Cool!” I said back, unsure what that meant.

“Let’s go find some bitches. There are so many bitches in here. This way!”

He led me across the dance floor to another part of the club where sure enough there were a group of five ‘bitches.’ We started to dance with them, which means that I stood at a good distance and my friend started to move in for a grind, at which point the girls quickly dispersed and left us pretty much on our own.

“Dude, they were fat anyway. Come on!”

Had he been watching me? Did he know I was on my own? Had he deliberately found another guy on his own to recruit as his wing man?

He led me to another part of the dance floor putting his arm around my neck and speaking into my face: “Dude, I’m from New York, I’ve got your back, there are so many bitches in here!” His breath was so bad I knew I’d be waking up with a horrible illness the next day. We went to dance with more girls and the same thing happened.

“Dude, the people in here are so racist! Let’s get a drink!”

I thought why not go with him to get a drink. He didn’t seem dangerous. We went to the bar and he insisted on getting me a drink, I insisted on getting him one and he didn’t argue.

“Bottle of Heineken.”

And then he went off to speak to quite a large woman in a big dress. She was about forty and had dyed blond hair. I watched him put his arm round her neck and speak into her face and I saw her not enjoying his breath either. After a few minutes he came over with a sense of urgency.

“Dude, I said it’s your birthday, don’t fuck this up!”

“Happy Birthday!!” She said.

“Thank you!”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty one, I’m having such a great birthday!” I said joyfully. The guy has happy with that, but his smile faded and he got his game face back on. This woman was his.

She then moved in such a way as to turn her back on my friend and use me to escape from him. I watched him patiently waiting behind her back with his game face on as we spoke about what it’s like to be twenty, thirty or forty. She said that being forty is the best because you no longer care what people think of you. Our conversation went on for about ten minutes and I watched the game face change from game, to boredom to anger, back to boredom and back to anger again at which point my friend dragged me away saying:

“Dude, she’s a fucking racist bitch, she only likes white boys. It’s pointless! Come on! So many racist people here!”

Did he think I was black? Was my dancing that good? We went to the dance floor

“Dude, I’m from New York. I’ve got your back on the dance floor.”

What did that mean? Did that mean the clubs he usually goes to has regular brawls on the dance floor? I suspected it meant though that he was saying I’ll be your friend if you’ll be mine so we don’t have to do this thing alone. The whole thing continued. To his credit he was relentless. He went up to the two hottest girls in the club and started chatting to them and pointing at me. They looked over disinterested. He came over:

“Dude! They’re from Italy! Go talk to them!”

“No, I’m just going to dance for a bit.”

“No! Dude they’re from Italy! Don’t let me down!”

“No, maybe in a minute.” I looked over at them and they were gorgeous, in retrospect I was mad not to chat to them but what were my chances with him as my self appointed wing man?!

His shoulders dropped and he stood in between me and them dancing, in a way that could only say ‘I’ve been so let down.’ He danced until he felt I’d had enough alone time.

“Dude, let’s go find some more!”

“No, I’m happy here.”

He then went over to a group of girls and started dancing with them and again pointed at me. I got the sense that he was using me as a tool to say “It’s okay, I have a friendly looking friend so I must be okay, I’m not a sexual predator.” I just danced on my own, not wanting to mess up his game or be a part of his mission.

Finally he disappeared and I went and started dancing with a group of girls on their hen night. I was there for no more than five seconds when my friend put his arm around me and joined the circle.

“Dude! You’re a legend! I’ve got your back, bro! I’ve got your back!”

He put his arm round the girl on his right and continued to gesture at me, making me a part of whatever his scheme was. I caught the girl’s eye and shook my head at her as if to say I didn’t know him. She got the idea and he was closed out of the circle. I continued dancing with them.

“Dude they are such racist bitches! Come on! Let’s go find some others!”

He was asking me to move away from the five fun, beautiful girls on their hen do, I was not going to leave.

“No, I’m happy here, you go ahead though.”

He moved to the other side of the circle and tried his tricks with those girls who danced politely with him for a few seconds and then moved away from him. He came over once more and begged me to go somewhere else with him and I said I was staying here. He went and sat on a stool at a nearby table and watched me dancing, waiting for me to be finished so he could continue having fun, a bit like when a child has to wait for their parent to finish the chapter of their book before they can go play outside. I danced with them for about half an hour and then I decided to head home. The moment I moved away from them he was here.

“Dude! Let’s go find some other women who aren’t racist!”

“Okay.”

I thought one more lap might be fun. I went with him around the club and he did the same thing. Put his hand on the girls neck, pointed at me and then tried dancing with them, and he got the same result, they would politely move away from him. He came back over to me.

“Dude, I’m going to get my bag, don’t go anywhere!”

Not knowing what was in his bag I took that as my cue to leave and got my bag and coat (I don’t know where he stored his bag, as he wasn’t at the cloak room!) and headed out.

If you’re looking for a fun night, with cheesy music and a lively atmosphere I would recommend it, but I’d also say it comes with a warning to watch out for the single men hanging out there on their own!

Written by: Harry ter Haar