Let me keep it simple

Sunday 19 April 2015

1824 (MDCCCXXIV) LANG’ATA



1824 Whiskey Club is eponymous and probably pastiche. The last time I visited this club was in 2014 at the wee or exit stages of the year. The club was still upcoming and the number of revelers were quite skewed. Initially, the location had always served as a garage for the semi-skilled mechanics who plied their trade until the owners of the land forced them to shift base. I bet they went to those sides near Splash or on your way to Phenom Estate.

The major activity that is carried out in the piece of land has not changed much though. They still cater for motor lovers but in a more professional way through the auto fitness centre that I bet is kind of cosy because the grease monkeys employed are trained in institutions of higher learning.

The place also offers other services like Car Wash and a modern Barbershop among other services that I overlooked because I was never going to investigate on the same. Of course 1824 is the main attraction at night when it turns into a bubbly nightclub.  

Now, let me tell you something. You see, 1824 is not your average pub. It usually gets packed like the grains on a maize cob. It has to do with the kind of publicity it has got over the short period it has been in existence. It chocks with Nairobians who want association with everything that is new and attracts favorable reviews. In fact, it has belittled Rafikiz that is behind it literally.

The last time I was in the place, I never knew I would write about it. But when my sister in campus told me that all her friends were talking about the club like a trending topic, I had to switch gears. The blogosphere was also awash with the new club in town causing shivers and ripples among established brands.

This club attracts a rather mature crowd in their late twenties to early forties. The waitresses were not good-looking neither are they ugly. They were average apart from few who had curvy derrieres with slightly big booties. Those hawking tots were all over. Carlsberg was their official clothing line.

The ladies who came to rave here were not skimpily dressed apart from a few ones who obviously were in search for that someone.

As you enter the nightclub, you are frisked by ignorant bouncers as you hear music blaring from the speakers, the kind that booms in your ears making your heart accelerate until till they beat in unison. The intermingled smells of smoke and sweat and too many people instantly assault your nostrils as you inhale deeply while pushing your body through the pulsating throng (It is a mixture of shisha, fart, bang and cigarette). The open air setting allows for drum like tables that sots have to use on late arrival because the club attracts all kinds of people. You seldom see odieros. A plus though is that on the day you are there, marauding ladies are not on their heels in pursuit of them because some Kenyan ladies have a thing for jungus.

The lounge in I824 is average. The interiors are not so eye catching and the aesthetic values are okay for a modern nightclub in Nairobi. The lighting is enough for the eye since the high ceiling has awesome lights incandescent from it though dusky as usual. Which means it is tomblike or womblike because your eyes have to adjust to the imminent darkness in the club. 

The prosaic corollas which is the face of motor ownership in the city were the order of the day outside. However, there were a few Range Rovers and Mercedes which implies something. Kenyans never experiment much.

Oh! You find an empty drum and order for seats because sipping pints while standing can be disastrous. This nightclub is rather bland from the outside (It is a no go zone when rains pour). I did make my order but because I had had some scotch while in the digs, my system could not take in alcohol at a very fast rate. A shisha was ordered and the waiter in charge brought a hookah which methinks was laced with ale though it had a strawberry taste. I hate smoking, but I was coerced to try out this Shisha. It was my first time. I ended up coughing like incoherently but pretended because the master smoker of the stuff was a lady (she brew the smoke up like those cool Hollywood A-stars). I realized that shisha is not my stuff. I placed the pipe down. It aint cool as I had earlier envisioned.

And writing of smoking, I saw a certain chic who was in the same college with my elder sister (she is a news anchor). My siz had always intimated stories as to why the chic had dark lips. She was a chain smoker. I noticed she smokes like a chimney. Being a renowned personality, she attracted many men in her groupie of ladies. Most men only wanted to say hi to her and on realizing the aura is female, left.

1824 has no dancing floor for those who love dancing, but you can create space and dance your heart out if you love shaking dem legs to the music. It also does not take care of soccer fans because it only has two lounges while a majority of revelers sit outside. When crowded, you have to stand till you get an empty space.

When a hot chic you have been eyeing refuses to dance with you, you feel a little out of place. And I kind of felt red faced because the chic was with a dude almost her father’s age who was a pathetic dancer. I must say I never insist when a stranger lady says no. But if it is someone know, it is different.

A certain groupie of ladies also caught my eye. They were dressed in black in dresses that barely covered their asses with huge phones they never let go of. They looked like ladies of the night in some way with their high-heeled stilettoes and thickly smeared make-up on their faces. I fear such ladies and their lesbian kind of dancing pissed me off.   

It being midmonth, I had speculated that drunkards never spend. Not so fast. There was this group of gordita ladies who came with some two gentlemen in tow. They were given a drum and were ordering ‘mizinga’ at the same time taking shorts of expensive gin and rum.  

However, a fight ensued when a certain dude who probably tried to hit on the lady broke a bottle of the pricey drinks they were having.

I saw two of the ladies slapping the dude like he was some dummy with no feelings. He was being shielded by one of the guys who had accompanied the ladies from attacking the ladies. But when the other guy from the group saw things going haywire, he joined the melee.

The next thing I saw was the dude who was receiving slaps squaring it out with the two ladies and the scene was now a cat-fight. Other people joined in. If I was in the dudes shoes, I would have done just what he did. Two ladies cannot give you five slaps and you are doing nothing. He broke the glasses of one of the ladies because he jumped on them and started beating them up with one lady receiving some blows before the bouncers took over after watching the club almost going in amok for a few minutes.

The chaps were whisked away as we went to left, the cab driver having made it in time to pick us up. Inside is when I got to learn that probably the guys were fighting because they had no enough cash and they wanted the dude to foot the bill. Sorry to say I never had the exact words of the verbal exchange between the ladies and the dude because all along I was irate because I could not fathom how the dude was being slapped and he was doing nothing. When he got into his senses and did give the two ladies a good hiding, I felt relieved and happy. That he was calm upon being provoked was not a lie and anyone who is belittled by tiny ladies would have reacted the same. Ladies should know better, brawls should be among men in a club.

SITUONANE.

[Photo Source: Google Images]
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