I tried Freshers’ sober and it actually wasn’t that bad

I don’t drink alcohol. Call me boring, call me a “party pooper”, believe me, I’ve heard it all before. Why you may ask? Well, mainly, I love watching the escapades of alcohol induced teenagers and twenty somethings. Quite the morbid curiosity you might say, getting off at the antics of those who are, how shall we put it, a little worse for wear. However, the stories of those who can’t remember what on earth they were doing in Pyramid at half 1 in the morning are quite something.

Picture the scene, a first year descending into the deep depths of their very first club. The potent smell of ciders and beers hanging in the air, suddenly, the anthems of my youth begin blasting out at full volume. At this point, I knew my experience had begun. Greeted by a torrential wave of sweat and music, I feel like a fish out of water, but I’m one for trying so on I go. As my eyes adjust to the low level of lighting, which I’m told makes for a better experience, an image that I can only describe as a sea of humans comes into focus. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was the Pyramid mosh pit.

Precariously, I edged my way down the stairs into this natural wonder. Immediately, I was welcomed by random people exclaiming I was their "best friend" and that the felt they’d "known me for years". Now, I had no idea who these people were (I can’t imagine they remember me either), nevertheless, I said thank you and joined in with the obligatory bear hugs of my new-found soulmates. One “soulmate” stood out from the rest though. Ask me his name or even if he's studying at Leeds, I couldn’t tell you; however, I do know that he and I share an infinite amount of love for the pop culture of 2010.

As the hits came pouring out, I found myself getting absorbed into the world of an alcoholic fresher's. Some inadvertent grinding here and there, on both male and female might I add, followed up by two of my new “best friends” and I bellowing out various lyrics at the tops of our voices as if we were on the main stage at a festival.

Admittedly, at the start, I felt I was in for a rough ride, scared stiff that I’d accidentally knock a drink out of a third years hand and have the bruises to show for it. However, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The most common thought I had was that everyone seemed to gel, no matter your age, and I must say the manners of drunk people are remarkably impressive. Although, I did become a little bit sceptical of this when I saw an empty bottle of what I think was beer coming straight at me like a torpedo.

Thankfully, in my sober state I managed to dodge it, but there were a few reminders that those who chose to drink alcohol can sometimes get a little carried away. The epitome of this was channeled through a man I can only relate to as “flower 52” (the pattern and number on his attire). All night long, he was entertaining the masses, belting lyrics at the top of his voice and pulling out dance moves that even Gene  Kelly would be jealous of.

At one point, the gentleman in question looked as though he was about to attempt a crowd surf had it not been for the eagle eyes of security. After witnessing this spectacle, I felt it was time to call it a night. By this stage of the night, the vile concoction of sweat and heat,  along  with  the  deterioration  of  some  peoples  behaviour, was not something my nose and body were enjoying.

So I began my walk home passed the clubs where people were partying hard into the morning. It was at this point my favourite story of the night was born. After ambling passed Church and turning into Central Village I came across two things. The first being a traffic cone in a tree (clearly someone had the fresher's to do list in their mind) and the second being two female students attempting to become the first professional supermarket trolley racing drivers.

As one, rather awkwardly, mounted the trolley the other began revving the “engine”, which translates as her rubbing the handle and making ‘VROOM’ noises. After a few laps of the car park, they turned their hand to something more adventurous,  they began to perform numerous donuts as if they were the British Touring Champions. A sight to behold  for certain.

So there you have it, a sober account of fresher's. It's true there is an  argument for saying a bit of alcohol may have improved my experience, but in all honesty, I still enjoyed myself. Doing fresher's sober was one hell of an experience, but one I relished. From my new best friends to seeing next year’s professional racing drivers, it was all a great memory.

If you didn’t go to fresher's (of which I’m hedging my bets the majority of you did) then what are you playing at!?! Get yourself to a nearby venue and just have fun, it doesn’t hurt to enjoy yourself from time to time.