Five things everyone at an Edinburgh Uni hockey social has experienced
The Boteco dancefloor is many things, but it will never quite be Atik (RIP)
It’s a Wednesday and you’ve caught the 30 bus back from Peffs or slogged back from Aberdream in your mate’s VW polo, what awaits you back in Edinburgh? An unhinged night of curry-eating, boat races, and drunk freshers being sent home in Ubers by the poor sods whose captains roped them in to being sober secs.
While these nights are rarely predictable, there’s a few key proponents that remain integral…
1. Experiencing costume-related difficulties
Whether this is paint smudging of the faces (and sometimes bodies) of dolled-up peas and minions, or the struggle of a cheese grater to fit into the club, every Wednesday brings its challenges. After all, when it comes to commitment to costumes, nobody does it quite like the hockey club.
2. Reminiscing about Atik
This is an unavoidable upset amongst our seniors and something certainly triggered by the inevitable losing of your teammates in the expansive Ballie Ballerson, followed by the queue jumping and battle to the bar (£1 tequila – who can blame you?) in Boteco.
We certainly have a soft spot for our new home, however, it is hard to kiss goodbye to Attik’s disco dancefloor of dreams.
3. Sharking and general ‘loose’ behaviour
We’ve all heard of the EUMHC’s reputation… But in all seriousness, this is a common staple of the dancefloor and once committed, it will almost certainly end up paparazzied for the team group chat. It’s fair to say that members have equal commitment to BUCS wins and Peffermill triumphs as they do to capturing their teammates up close, at their worst.
4. A game of fives
There’s nothing hockey players love more than a game of fives and it wouldn’t quite be a social without one.
Whether this is part of a drinking game or to determine which poor first year will step into goal for the next match, I doubt it will ever disappear from tradition, certainly not next semester anyway… (Did someone say Exeter?)
5. General embarrassment
I don’t know who decided to kick off every single one of Edinburgh’s run clubs to coincide with the costume-related walks of shame to ridiculously early pres, however, I doubt they would win a popularity contest. The embarrassment usually doesn’t end here, as members will go on to witness curry-night shenanigans that reliably end in someone being sick or unfortunate hangxiety-fuelling gets on the Boteco dancefloor.
Despite their undeniably feral nature, we are all certain to rock up the following Wednesday with equal passion and club spirit. Besides, the negatives of a sport’s night are outweighed by the easy fact that you’ll never remember anything the morning after.