Everything that will happen to you on a night out in Kitty’s in Fife
Pink and Purple are your new favourite colours
Preparation for a night out in Kitty’s is almost as important as the night itself. You’ll need to get heavy on the pre-drinks sesh so as to not commit the ultimate Kitty’s sin of turning up sober or even a little bit drunk. This means you’ll down your bottle of MD 20/20 (Orange Jubilee, of course) as the taxi is on its way to pick you up from your mates house – their parents have gone upstairs and you’ve been told everyone needs to be out by 11pm.
At this point you decide to continue the pre-sesh onto the limited choice of bars on Kirkcaldy High Street until between about 12am and 1am, which then becomes an acceptable time to head up to Kitty’s where you will be in for the greatest trippy mix of purple and green lighting you have ever seen and this is everything that will happen to you during that time.
You’ll get lost
The first thing that will happen, before you have even got a drink in your hand is that you’ll get lost and more specifically you’ll lose all your friends. You’ve been at the front of the queue, there has been some miscommunication between you and your friends and you turn left absolutely buzzing to dance to an Avicii remix, but your mates turned right and wanted to put their jacket in the cloakroom and as you approach the dancefloor and turn round to what you expect will be mutual appreciation of the tunes, you’re all alone already. It’s 12:15.
You’ll take a seat
After found everyone again and had a few drinks you’ll decide you want to have a seat, because everyone else does. You’ll slide across a booth trying not to ruin your best Ralph Lauren t-shirt on the table which is soaking wet with vodka and red bull, but it doesn’t matter because it’s all over your jeans anyway. This is of course the ideal time to take a selfie and who knew you looked so well surrounded by pink and purple?
You’ll fall up or down some stairs
After a while you will get a bit sick of hearing Pillowtalk and some guys grinding on all the pillars in the middle of the dance floor. This will take you to the upstairs sections, either to an, erm, sophisticated bar where you’re served everything you get down stairs or a cheesy disco. Accessing these areas isn’t easy as you either have to go up the steepest steps you’ve ever seen or an ill thought out spiral staircase. Trying to get up these stairs becomes a challenge when Jägermeister sends a message to your legs saying “you’re not allowed to move anymore”, combined with your best dancing shoes having as much grip as butter sliding down a fridge door and then there’s only one outcome of this, you fall flat on your arse. Your mates will try and help you up, but then only making the situation worse by falling on top of you, meaning people walking passed are now wondering if they’re some kind of show they were supposed to pay for. Smooth.
You’ll wonder why you’re there
It’s about 2am. You’re not drunk enough are you? As you stare at the DJ booth and wonder if he’ll ever just finish early because you actually need to go to bed and definitely could not hack another two hours of this misery, you start to yawn and think how wonderful your bed would feel right now. You start to regret your decision to not take those shots of Sambuca. Then one of your ever helpful pals will say to you “what’s wrang wi your puss?”. And at this point you realise you really need to have a camp at the bar for the next half hour and you’ll be totally fine.
You’ll go out to the smoking area
Is anybody else really warm? Like, difficult to breath warm? It’s alright because one of your mates has pulled someone who smokes and they need to go for a fag and they don’t want to leave them because they’re definitely going home with them. As the doors open to the smoking area you’re greeted by a haze of fag smoke. As you stand huddled around a table and wonder why it’s black and not purple like the rest of the club and surely it doesn’t make sense to have black tables in the dark you’ll start to feel quite cold. You seem to have forgotten the fact that it’s the middle of November and you’re in Scotland, you’ve also remembered that you don’t smoke and so start coughing as if your lungs are trying to escape, whilst at the same time shivering and worried that your arms will be shaken off your shoulders. Is it possible to die of both smoke inhalation and hypothermia at the same time? You decide just to meet everyone back in there.
Be told off by a bouncer
I’m not saying the bouncers do a terrible job, I wouldn’t want 18 year olds telling me to fuck off every Thursday to Saturday either. However, when you’re being told off for lying on a chez long, a chair designed for you to lie on, being told to stop dancing so vigorously, dropping the slightest bit of curry sauce on the floor, brushing passed someone who didn’t even notice you, being told how to stand in a queue, they can become a bit of a distraction to your night out.
You’ll accuse the bar staff of short-changing you
Everyone has this conspiracy theory about Kitty’s that the bar staff have short-changed them at some point. You’ll put this theory into action at one point and have a lengthy dispute about how much change you’re due. After losing the argument, you will then tell everyone about your horrible ordeal. The reality is that you’ve just paid £7.00 for a double vodka and lemonade and did were truly handed three quid back from a tenner. You either have a serious counting issue or were expecting a unrealistically cheap drink.
Someone will spill their or you own drink on you
Due to the small size of the Kitty’s dancefloor, there is the occasional bumping that goes on during one too many hard raves to Tsunami. Then someone (probably a guy) will jump into you and cover you in your vodka coke and now your perfectly white Lacoste polo shirt is now mostly brown and sticky. You will either deal with this in two ways, shake hands with the person like civilised people, or do what 90% of the Kitty’s crowd will do and punch them in the face.
You’ll end up on the stage or the podium
You’re dance moves are great, they’re so great that you feel like it would be a great idea to get onto the stage or a podium and spin round and round as you shake your massive arse to Rihanna’s Work and everyone’s eyes are on you, you are the star of the evening, no one is better than you at dancing. In reality though, you’re spinning round like the kebab that everyone will be eating at the end of the night.
It’s the end of the night and you realise that it’s 4am
The lights are up, the dancefloor is emptying and as you walk outside there is no longer any need for street lights, because it’s light outside. Great, without the dark you can see your way home, unfortunately you can also see what’s hanging off your right arm that you told could share your bed tonight.