Why would you do a Saturday night in Liverpool?
You spend an absolute bomb and queue in the cold for hours
Between Monday and Friday the nightlife in Liverpool is lively, atmospheric and busy (but not too busy), dominated by students but sure to bring fun to the night none the less.
But come the weekend the heaving crowds, cramped clubs and overpriced drinks makes a Saturday night out completely unbearable and just not worth it.
Upon arriving in town students are faced with their first challenge of the night – queueing for up to an hour to get into what will undoubtedly be an uncomfortable and sweaty night in a crowded club.
At this time of year this inconvenience becomes a nightmare.
Girls are forced to the extremes of sticking a jacket on to ensure they don’t freeze to death , to then take time out to find a cloakroom to stick the thing – yes people actually use these (sometimes).
Once through the doors and into the warmth we then fork out a ridiculous entry fee of £5 and often more for something that would be free of charge during the week.
The number of people quickly increases throughout the night and by 2am – after your foot has been stabbed by a heel for the fifth time in as many minutes – you feel done with throwing shapes and want to throw punches instead.
The horde of people also make you realise that you have suddenly developed severe claustrophobia. You seek the relative safety of the bar.
With the bar comes the second queue of the night.
It seems worth it in the hope that a little more alcohol will get you through the night but just the mere price of a vodka mixer will make you question why you aren’t all snuggled up in bed and saving yourself for Monday where you can buy a razbomb for a quid.
After an hour or so of trying to make a night of it it’s getting no better so it’s time to retreat home. After debating whether you fancy some late night greasy food before you depart you are faced with yet another queue and sack it in.
Finally, you most overcome the most challenging hurdle of the night – finding a taxi. It is impossible.
With all big taxi companies either engaged, fully booked or just being plain rude and not answering the phones there is no other option but to hail down a black cab.
I wonder how many of you have been told the driver simply “isn’t heading in that direction” – erm, don’t we decide the direction?
There’s an art to grabbing a black cab which often involves running frantically in front of fellow freezing clubbers and waving your arms as wildly as possible.
You’ll look weird but you’d rather lose your reputation than the use of your fingers.
This could potentially take hours and you’ll begin to question why you aren’t living in the centre of town and become extremely envious of anyone who is.
Finally you’re in a cab and once you pay over a tenner for a five minute journey it is important to make a pact to never go out on a Saturday ever again.