The ‘Crying Step’ is the best thing about the Raz
If you didn’t cry, did the night really happen?
We’ve all been there: 4am in the morning, after countless razbombs and fat frogs, and you somehow end up following a randomer to the smoking area and out of nowhere you’re balling your eyes out revealing all your worries on the infamous ‘crying step.’
It’s a standard feature of your Monday Raz. Even if it isn’t you experiencing the trauma, you can always watch from outside the Blue Angel, the same conversation of someone balling their eyes out with their best friend proclaiming “They ain’t worth it babe!” It would only happen at the Raz – clearly.
If you are alien to the concept of the Crying Step, let us expand the term for you: the entrance of the ‘Sakura Thai Massage Parlour'(Just a massage parlour?) opposite the Raz has three cold stone steps where people cry and cry and cry all night long. From the minute the iconic club opens until they’re dragging you out at 6am kicking and screaming, there is always someone having a good ol’ wail about how depressing their life is.
Let’s be honest, we all love the Raz. You can cry on the step with your equally drunk friend, and odds are, neither of you will remember it. So if you admit your darkest secrets, there is a likelihood it won’t be brought up again – simply as ‘the time where Ciaran cried for a bit, we don’t know why though.’ Praise the Lord for drunken conversations.
Everyone has stories to do with the crying step: The Tab has asked people to contribute their tales of woe. Here are the best ones we’ve heard. Enjoy.
Kairo, a second year history student
Kairo told the Tab that she was outside having a peaceful fag on the steps one fateful Monday when she started talking to a girl who could not stop crying. Her name was Hollie. Kairo helped the girl stop crying and even got her number to ensure she got home safely. Well, that’s what she thinks – she doesn’t remember much about who she was apart from that she was saved in her phone the next day. What a doll.
Arun, second year politics student
Arun remembers how he was having a little “moment” on the step with his best friend. An elderly gentlemen interrupted them mid-chat and wanted to inform Arun that he’s proven to another man “that not all Muslims are bad.” Arun said: “I was more alarmed by the fact he thought I had a girlfriend.”
Nicki Gwyer, a second year psychology student
For some people, reaching the step is simply too difficult. Nicki describes her raz-fuelled breakdowns: “Sometimes just as your making your way to the raz step to have a good weep the last raz bomb hits and you reach the heights of your emotional turmoil. Unable to make the long journey to the crying step, collapsing on the curb outside the raz is the only place to cry now.” The curb knows, the curb understands.
Speaking from personal experience, there was a time when I was going to the raz every week, and every week I’d have a separate breakdown on the step with a completely new person. One week it was over the fact “I am not the person I used to be”, the next was “why does no one love me?” and the final one was over unrequited love. I am now a stronger, better person because of these breakdowns on the crying step.
The crying step will always be the most culturally relevant aspect of the Raz, and as more and more people flock to its hedonistic basement on a Monday night, it will still remain a common feature of everyone’s night. #LongLiveTheCryingStep