"Damn, this place stinks!" I exclaim to the wall as it farts out another cloud of smoke on to the dance floor.

"Oh, that's just the smell of man-love", replies A2A Angie. She gulps down a quick-f*ck and gestures around the room. "Didn't you notice the poster over there?"

I look to the far end of the club and spot a large poster spanning from the floor to the ceiling. "Hee hee, he's pretty naked, huh?" I slur, becoming slightly fascinated by a set of bright blue pants gyrating amidst the smoke.

"Anni, you do realise that this is a gay bar, don't you?"

"Yeah, but it's fun. Anyway, you came here first and called me. I thought that we were going to Belushi's".

A2A Angie shrugs and returns to her drink. A hand taps me on the shoulder as T leans to my ear, "Yeah, but the drinks are cheap-as here. We get pissed here first, then we move to other clubs", she shouts rationally.

"Ah, I see".

"Dude, I just went to the loo over there," she points to a large sign titled 'Powder Room' in neon lights, "and the door is like a metre off the ground. It's a good thing I was hovering, coz everyone else would've been able to see everything".

An old man suddenly crosses my path and casually perches himself at a stool beside the bar. The bartender adjusts his mid drift bell-hop shirt and promptly takes his order.

"He looks like someone from the RSL club," I reflect to those who aren't busy swimming in liquor.

T nudges me enthusiastically, "Dude, I dare you to go and ask gramps to dance".

"Nah, he looks too buggered from all of those games of lawn bowls".

A2A Angie tables her empty glass and rises, "Where is he?"

"Seriously, I reckon you'd give him a heart attack".

A2A Angie turns and spanks her arse enthusiastically in reply.

And so it begins...

The next part of the evening is spent at Rockerfellas, where many drinks are consumed very quickly. Music pumps as a large puff of smoke shoots out from the hood of the car the DJ stands behind. However, unlike the other club, the smoke doesn't reek and another kind of love is in the air.

Or perhaps it was just the smell of many sweaty booties shakin' it on the dance floor.

The alcohol takes it full effect and I am coaxed on to the floor. I start to do my thing and because there's a wall of mirrors opposite, I can tell that a) I really do need to get some serious sun, b) alcohol does not improve my dancing (or pool-playing) and c) all of those photos drunkenly taken during similar outings suddenly make sense... especially the greasy skin and glint of unintelligence within the shallows of my eyes.

I catch Becsta in the eye and smile as though I know what I am doing. A2A Angie signals that she's grabbing a drink and I take the hint.

"Dude, I just thought I'd warn ya about Antonio," she mentions earnestly as we check our bags.

I look over to the bar and notice Antonio in all of his Asiatic glory. A tune kicks on and he begins to improvise some form of pseudo break/liturgical dance. I notice that it seems like a hard feat for someone dressed like a graduate from Metrosexualism 101. That, and the fact that he's completely tanked and currently residing in 'I'm such a hot drunk' territory.

"What about him?"

She clears her throat, "Well... you see, Antonio is kinda like the Terminator. You know how Arnold analyses everyone he looks at?" She waves her hands in front of her eyes and makes the corresponding scanner noises.

"Yeah," I reply uneasily.

"Well, he told me tonight that he wants to pick up... anything. So you should probably warn your friends."

I glance over and catch Antonio thrusting at the hot air, "Will do."

Hours begin to blur over into a pool of dancing, drinking and Antonio making cracks at all of my friends in succession. Suddenly, Becsta waves her phone around and announces that it's all happening over at Birdie Num-Num's.

Birdie Num-Num's greets us with a large line-up outside its doors. We all get out our ID cards in anticipation whilst A2A Angie and I amuse ourselves by quoting 'A Night at the Roxbury'. We slowly make our way into the club, but only after T drops her card twice. The first time is by accident and Becsta picks it up because of T's skirt. However, the second time is created by Antonio, who demands that T picks it up herself so that he can see what she had for breakfast.

The interior of the club is so packed that I can't help but muse that an emergency would no doubt end in a 100% fatality count. People are no longer breathing oxygen, only stale smoke machine emissions. It takes us twenty minutes to find the toilets... and that's where T spots Louie the Fly.

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?!" She shouts as the line pushes her towards a stall and further from Louie's grasp.

Louie points towards the sea of people behind him, "I'll catch up with you later!"

Another of our party, The Walrus (titled so because of her Beatles obsession), turns to face me in the line.

"Geez, I haven't seen him since school! We used to tease him so much, hey Anni?"

I think back at to Biology class. "Hee hee... yeah, he wouldn't leave her alone."

"He was so in love with her."

I smile knowingly, "They are so going to get together."

Alas, the mystic forces of Birdie Num-Num's begs a-differ, as the last time that Louie and T meet up that night conclude with the pair parting their separate ways... and T stating that Louie's friend mentioned something along the lines of, "Why the hell isn't Louie trying to hold on to you?"

"I think it's because he's afraid that I want to take him into the bushes and rape him".

With that, we bid Birdie Num-Num's adieu and return to Rockerfellas, where T and Becsta are greeted with a love-sandwich on the dance floor.

Busying myself with my phone in an attempt to locate A2A Angie and her mates, I look up briefly to find a dance floor... minus T and Becsta. I turn to The Walrus in a fit of panic.

"Where are they? I can't see them anywhere..."

The Walrus rises and manages to locate them within the bowels of the packed club.

"They're over there..." She squints, "They appear to be dancing with two dudes..."

I rise from the table. In the distance I can make out T and Becsta dancing with two gents... with very busy hands.

"Ew."

We watch in amusement as T and Becsta attempt every manoeuvre in every girl's guide to 'trying to ditch a dickhead in a busy environment'... to no avail.

"Oh, they are good," I smirk, "They aren't going anywhere".

Ten minutes later Becsta escapes Mr Creep's grasp and heads joins us.

"Dude, that was GROSS," Becsta utters, rubbing her side. She takes a swig of water and continues, "He kept rubbing his boner on me... I had to leave coz it was beginning to hurt."

We all shudder at the notion as T returns to the table.

"You guys coming back out?" She asks.

"I'm not going back out there", Becsta quickly replies.

"You guys wanna cruise then?" I suggest.

Without a word, our eyes interlock and we know that it is time to taxi away... leaving the Metro Fonzies to high-five themselves and retire to the Powder Room to clean up.