What better way to spend a Saturday night at a nightclub far from mcgill crowds hustle bustle as they

make their way into the so called ‘classy’ but heavily overcrowded bars in montreals well lit
neighborhood of Saint-Laurent. As spring break comes to a close and I know just like myself my friends
too aren’t prepared to go back into the endless sleepless nights and 24/7 constant coffee sipping cycle
till this semester ends.

Anyway, just to have a little fun before, I decided to head to club micasa which is located on the corner
of rue jean talon west. I had never been there before but I had always been curious to see whether
other bars were similar to ones I had previously been to. Heading there it was myself and two other
friends and while not knowing what would welcome us, it seemed like the appropriate place to conduct
my observation.

We got there around 11pm and while in the day the neighborhood looks lit and safe, it wasn’t quite so
during this time. The club from afar looked much like a corner shop rather than a club. Anyhow, there
wasn’t a huge waiting line as id expect clubs and bars alike usually have. There were two bouncers
outside managing whatever 10-15 people present including my friends and I. most of the people
waiting, I noticed, were men and mostly older than myself maybe around late 20s to mid 30s. At first I
felt a little out of place as if I had made a mistake in choosing a club where the crowd consists of
graduates to working individuals. But luckily, while still in waiting, more people my age started to join
the line. This made me feel more at ease.

A couple of minutes later, I couldn’t help but note how everyone was dressed to perfection; even in the
cold there were girls wearing revealing dresses and crop tops like it was already summer. By this time
interactions between the crowd had already begun.

There were a few men with their backs pressed against the wall and scrutinizing everyone from a
distance; probably checking out the women they liked and making “bedroom eyes” at the ones they
thought they had a chance with. When one of the women glared back accusingly they would joke
amongst themselves about how the weather wasn’t the only thing cold. The women didn’t seem to
bother with them, but this could be said about only a few standing close. Some farther off seemed to be
giddy from the attention they were receiving from the boys and the rest were some who clearly looked
exasperated at the unsolicited attention. This was no doubt amusing to watch, and by default participate
in.

Time was passing by and the crowd was increasing were- I was hoping it wouldn’t be long before we
enter the club it was getting tiring waiting in the cold outside. The guys-against-the-wall started to
approach the girls and began to think that they could get us in faster, and that maybe my friends and I
should make light conversation with them; our attention would certainly be welcome to them
considering they were having terrible luck with the other club-goers. They did exactly as I thought and
approached us last; we too engaged in conversation with them, hoping to get some benefit out of it.
However they were just as desolate as us and they were back in line.

After what seemed like an eternity another burly looking man emerged from inside the club, he had the
club id hanging around his thick, veiny neck and he gave the bouncer the okay to start checking IDs and
letting people enter.t At least the long line was moving; though I knew we got their early, somehow a
large crowd was still in front of us, but at least the crowd was slowly but surely making its way inside the
dimly lit club.

All individuals ahead of us showed their ID one by one until it was our turn- the bouncers looked
skeptically at us and I felt viewed our IDs for a bit longer than he did others. The wait was agonizing- I
couldn’t wait to get inside and pick a spot but that took more time than usual because we had neglected
to bring our actual IDs and instead opted to bring our school IDS- apparently that was a big no as they
didn’t accept school ids but we managed to convince them by showing them pictures of our actual IDs
on our phones; they let us in with a warning, saying “it wouldn’t fly next time” and that we better be
prepared beforehand if we want to gain entry again. It was a bit of a hassle but we eventually got in.

Once inside, we saw a bunch of people fidgeting for cash and change to check their coats in; at this point
I wanted to roll my eyes as I felt that I had waited enough and deserved to have a fun night without a
bunch of amateur club goers holding up the line because they hadn’t had their change ready in time- I
mean they had a lot of time outside the club to look for petty change- instead they held up the line, yet
again- they shouldn’t have been allowed to be in front of anyone. But eventually each of my friends and
I us checked our respective coats in at three dollars and made our way into the actual club.

Can’t say the party had just begun because there were already dancers on the floor and others crowding
the bar- it was in full swing. The music was loud and the strobe lights in their different rays of purple,
red, blue and green were just as loud as the music. There were also several disco balls as if there was an
eighties theme night happening.

I focused myself to hurry and find a spot for us to sit as my friends made their way to the bar counter.
Sitting there I could see people entering and dispersing to different ends of the main floor like all
communication had been ceased or become impossible except through dance and except for those
yelling their orders across to bartenders. Sipping on my lime drink I could say for sure it wasn’t a
pleasing sight in front of me; I wasn’t enjoying myself.

As usual it was the same pattern observed in almost all the bars and clubs I have ever attended – women
are always scantily clad in a sexualized manner to attract men that will be so impressed by their physical
attractiveness that they would want to ask them out on a date probably.

Other than this, I couldn’t help but also notice how all women were approached by men and not the
other way around- it was the men who were so bold. The women in attendance didn’t seem shy, but this
was club culture as I knew it; women could have their pick of the men who were brave enough to
approach them.

Some men offered drinks first so as to impress the women- it was a generally accepted idea within this
club culture that pretty women don’t have to pay for their own drinks, their looks are enough for a man
to want to pay for their drinks so as to even have a slight chance of maybe taking them home or out on a
date or even to get their number. Furthermore; I noted that the most popular female attendees of this
club were undoubtedly blonde- I guess gentlemen do prefer blondes, though there were more brunettes
in attendance.

Moving around it seemed as if people didn’t get the memo – not to repeatedly ask someone to dance if
they say they aren’t interested. Instead they felt if they asked we would get so tired and annoyed and
finally give in to their dancing whims. Many guys would just appeared desperate to get attention- I saw
many crowding a group of women until they were so frustrated that they had to walk away. My friends
and I moved closer to the window to get some air as it was as if heat and bodily moisture had
permeated the environment.

I saw a group of drunken boys heading out for a cigarette break and waltzing their way back in the club
causing disturbance with the bouncers and other people waiting in line to get in. the bouncers were
yelling and those who weren’t drunk were cursing. One of the boys turned around and looked as if he
was going to be sick on someone’s shoes- instead he merely staggered out on the street.

It was around half past midnight that the club was entirely filled and there wasn’t much room to move
around. It was claustrophobic. I made my way to the washroom with a dozen people pushing me around
while bopping to the beat. The bathroom was a very unpleasant sight and hygiene was close to zero.
There were unkempt washroom doors and people were laughing and walking in and out. I couldn’t use it
in the state it was and I attempted to hurry out when a man and woman left the stall; both looking quite
inebriated. I saw more women near the sinks laughing at what I had just witnessed but quickly getting
over it and adjusting their dresses, reapplying makeup and fixing their hair, I wondered if they were so
drunk that they didn’t notice the smell and didn’t gag as they reapplied their lipsticks. It was no wonder
that their priority at the time was to look their best as if their looks were the only thing that would
guarantee they have a good, unforgettable night.

I couldn’t stand there another minute so I walked out. Again, being pushed around I found my friends
looking bored out of their mind casually sipping their drinks and avoiding as many possible interactions
as they could. I too had seen enough, but still hopeful I made my way to the bar.

One by one we filled up bar stools next to each other, collectively glaring at whichever clubber was
unfortunate enough to be seated in the seats we wanted. The bar was by far the only place with people
talking and I observed several conversations.

One of them was between and woman; both who looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties.
From what I could hear the man was telling the very bored woman sob story after sob story- she looked
the least interested and only gave ‘Hmms’ in response while sipping on a drink. She’d finally decided
she’d had enough when he started telling her about his dog, whom he loved very much, who had
cancer. She simply rolled her eyes, got off the barstool and walked away.

Man with sob stories cursed loudly and I couldn’t help but snort in laughter. He turned and glared at my
friends and I before walking off in embarrassment himself. One of my friends remarked that no number
of cancer sick dogs would ever land him a date.
Another conversation I had the displeasure to witness was between a woman wearing a crown and sash
that said “bride to be” and a man who was apparently so funny to her that she laughed at anything and
everything he said. He was quite attractive; much more conventionally attractive than she was. His ears
were tinged pink- it was obvious that he was enjoying attention and vice versa- we could see some of
her entourage in matching crowns dancing on the floor farther off.

“Bride to be” said that she wasn’t the one getting married, she was just wearing the sash for her friend
who was on the dancefloor, but that even if she was the bride to be, she’d like one more fun night
before her ‘actual’ commitment. He replied that he respected that and thought it was a good plan. It
was clear that she was lying but he couldn’t care less- her explanation was good enough for him if it
meant that she’d go home with him that night.

After an hour I glimpsed them leaving MiCasa together, sneakily avoiding her entourage. Although there
was no need for sneakiness; most of them were drunk and one of them was braiding another’s hair.
Another one of them was sobbing on the phone and I suspected that she had drunk dialed someone.
Those who passed her by looked at her with understanding and pity, while some men looked at her with
a predatory expression- she was emotionally vulnerable and they could see it- she was obvious prey for
them.

The final group I observed were a group celebrating their friend becoming legal- each of them were
going to buy him a shot one by one, and each time he downed it they would cheer like a bunch of frat
boys at a party. Most of them seemed under the influence themselves as who would yell each time
birthday boy had a shot? I was just hoping that this happy occasion wouldn’t turn somber due to alcohol
poisoning.

Thankfully, he was the wiser one and he stopped before he could be seriously drunk. His friends began
pushing him towards different girls. Birthday boy was still too shy and ended up walking back to his
group despite them constantly pumping him up.

My friends and I felt bad enough for him that we considered approaching him, but before we could he
mustered up his courage and approached an eager looking girl. We saw them heading off to the
dancefloor, but before they could reach birthday boy threw up the shots we’d seen him take just
moments before. My friends and I felt even worse for him then as the eager girl dashed for her life as he
wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Anyone who would’ve looked on would’ve felt secondhand
embarrassment for him.

After seeing that I felt all clammy and decided I had to leave. Just before I could, I noted a woman who
would get the bartenders attention for a drink only to ask him for suggestions that she didn’t like,
thereby earning every other waiting customer’s disapproval. I was too tired at that point, otherwise I’d
have observed her more- but felt like it was time to go.

We left the club at around one thirty am, give or take fifteen minutes all tuckered out. But when we got
outside we saw that a lot of people were still waiting in line because for them the night was still young. I
was kind of relieved that I wasn’t with them at that point-I didn’t want to visit another club for a long
time and I’m sure everyone who left felt the same way- but knowing myself and knowing the youth, I
knew I’d probably be ready for round two soon and so would everyone else.