It was Friday the 13th September last year and we headed up the stairs, the music thumping through the wall on the left. The air was thick and hot as we reached the bar, people jostling to get to the front of the queue.
“What do you want to drink?” I shouted to Katie as the bass made my head vibrate. I can’t remember her answer now; either red wine or gin.
We took our drinks and tried to find a seat. It was busy; the downside to getting to Fat Eddies after 9pm on a Friday night. We loitered near some booths, leaning against the partition with a good vantage point of the whole bar; great for people watching.
We ended up chatting to the people in the booth next to us who were on a work do, something to do with construction I think. Neville the owner was happy to rack up the bar tab courtesy of the business and kept us in gin as he brought his friend, also called Neville, into the fold. They were interesting enough and kept us entertained for a bit until the lure of the dancefloor proved too much.
Someone caught Katie’s eye across the dancefloor; a guy she’d been on a date with just the night before and she went off to say hello. They say Christchurch is small and it’s true; you can’t go anywhere without tripping over people you know.
I was merrily bopping about on the dancefloor by myself when Katie came back, this time with a man with GREAT HAIR and a snappy dress sense who joined in our little dance-circle. I think my actual (and only) words to him were “OH MY GOD YOUR HAIR IS AMAZING” in a slightly-drunk-in-a-loud-bar-high-pitched-squeal. I had no idea who he was, he wasn’t date-guy, who incidentally had also joined our dance crowd.
Fat Eddies is one of those places that at about midnight stops being fun and lively and instead becomes mega crowded and full of very drunk people and so, like pumpkins, it was time for us to go home. Only we didn’t really want to stop the fun. Somehow, and I’m still not entirely sure how, we found ourselves heading back to my flat with the two Nevilles, great-hair-guy and date-guy in tow for an impromptu party at my city centre flat.
Visions of a fun after-party soon disappeared as I realised I only had a small amount of red wine in, everyone was pretty tired and the party atmosphere withered away. Instead, great-hair-guy sat on the chair next to me and we chatted for a looooong time about all sorts. He was an interesting guy.
He took my bare foot in his hand after I rested it up on the chair he was sitting on and spent an AGE giving it a massage, while telling me all about his life. Apparently I fell asleep; a combination of a late night, gin and foot relaxation.
The next morning I had a foggy head, a new Facebook friend and a piqued interest.
To be continued…