I woke up in a nightclub on Christmas Day

Her phone died too

national noad

It’s supposed to be the day when there is peace on earth and goodwill for all mankind.

So imagine the horror for Sophie, 21, who spent her Christmas morning trapped in a nightclub after she fell asleep in the toilets and set off the alarm.

The second year journalism student at Nottingham Trent woke up in the toilets of Area nightclub in her hometown of Watford and had to force open a chained fire exit to squeeze through and escape.

She said: “It was just another strange Christmas.”


Read her full story

I peered at my phone through one eye. It was the morning after the night before – 6am on Christmas Day and I was locked in a cubicle, in a club. Then my phone died.

That night I’d decided to treat my birthday hangover/all nighter with some more socialising. I was 18, had a real ID and it was Christmas Eve.

The club was busy but after a weary hour on the dance floor I remember shouting “be right back” over the dubstep, and left my friends for some peace in the toilet.

But I fell asleep, and a few hours later I woke up.

Sophie (far right) and her family at Christmas

Sophie (far right) and her family at Christmas

I tottered out of the toilets and gawped into the empty abyss. It was creepily silent for this normally crammed club, and it dawned on me that I was probably the only one in there.

It was a tricky situation. Still pretty drunk, confused and amused, I waved at CCTV on my way to look for an escape. This was a bad move on my part, as later the manager didn’t take my claims of “distress” very seriously.

After unsuccessfully rattling the main doors and setting off an alarm, I toured the fire exits and side rooms, looking for a way out.

At this point I had sobered up a bit and suddenly wasn’t very keen on spending Christmas Day alone, starving and hung-over. I went through the worst-case scenarios and cursed my dead phone.

Finally I found a door that opened. Ahead, like the glittering gates to heaven, was a fire exit. I pushed it open with glee and relief.

Only to find it was chained. I could see the street outside through a small gap giving me some leeway, and prayed I was small enough to fit through it.


After a struggle to find the most accommodating angle, and genuinely getting my head stuck in the process, I got out.

I made a run for it to the taxi rank and got home to find my annoyingly unconcerned family, sitting impatiently round the tree.

I didn’t think much of what had happened after that, until I tweeted and got quite a big reaction. In the end I rang the club and demanded to speak to the manager, who agreed I could queue jump and have eternal free entry.


In my parent’s eyes the early morning entrance had translated to successful night out. Expecting my Mum to be her compassionate self I began to whine about the trauma, but she said: “how ridiculous darling” and went back to her cuppa.

As for my Dad, he was more concerned with Christmas lunch, and carried on jigging about to “Santa Baby”.