It was my 18th birthday in London, England and I decided to go clubbing with grandma. I was a long way from home and for my birthday I decided to go to an 80s club with my grandma, aunt, and mom. This was a rash decision that I don’t think I ever will forget!
It was a windy night when we decided to make our way to a local pub. We had been in London for about 4 days and were living the life of shopping and eating.
It was what one would call the pre in our Airbnb and Madonna was pumping full blast as blue eyeliner was being applied. This was the beginning.
I was hours away from going clubbing with my grandma. I know what you are thinking who would ever go clubbing with their grandma? If we restate a favorite mean girls quote, “I’m not a regular grandma I am a cool grandma.”
At about 8 it was time to depart our lovely house after G&Ts were consumed by the masses. We piled into the uber that took us to our first stop, your everyday pub.
Music was mild and there was a small crowd enjoying a pint to the left. The walrus was ‘invented’ as my mum and aunt sipped their G&T with gusto. Giggles ensued. We were off to a good start.
We were starting our descent into my decision to go clubbing with grandma. It may have been the fruity drinks or the cider.
As the night wore on we decided that we could not just go to one pub. That we should do a crawl. And a crawl we did!
Along the way through hip bars and pubs featuring balding men watching football my grandma decided chips were in order. We stopped a local Marks&Spencers and proceeded to carry a bag of potato chips through our search for the perfect pub.
As Nick Miller would say “The crawl is for all!”
We had made it to the final bar. It was a hip bar with purple lights and a see of people enjoying fancy drinks followed by intellectual conversation. Bar One was cool and trendy. This is where there was a turn.
The atmosphere among us four was jittery and light, I suggested to the group that they try every gin drink on the menu. After about the second my grandma spots the cocktail olives across the bar. They were then consumed. Followed by dancing. It was almost time to go clubbing with grandma.
After I was completely embarrassed because they were the only ones busting a move at a chic bar I wondered over to the DJ and asked him if there was an 80s club nearby. And we were in luck. I gathered the troops and off we went. Clubbing with grandma is off to a good start.
We had arrived and waited in line. We got the front and I was carded and sure enough, I left my ID in the Airbnb. Words were exchanged on my part and we left to hunt the ID. There was seeping in the uber, chips were opened.
I made it back to the Airbnb breathless and almost sober…almost. After a long uber ride, we were back and led to the basement. I was the youngest one there. The 80s music was blasting while Metallica shirts were the norm. My aunt and I went to the bar and proceeded to get oggled by the party goers. As I turn all I see is my grandma’s kimono blowing to the beat of the music, fingers in the air. Kimono on the dancefloor.
We made it back to the Airbnb close to the time my mom wakes up. Everyone was put to bed safe and sound. Until it happened. The morning after.
The time when you hate yourself after drinking an aggressive amount of alcohol. My night was weird, strange, exhilarating, and a hell of a lot of fun.
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