Young people these days have it so easy, in my clubbing days we had to walk fifteen miles, up hill, in the middle of a snow storm, in stilettos. Well, maybe it wasn't fifteen miles but the rest is true enough, and I can't wait to tell my grandchildren, or any other unfortunate youngsters that become trapped within earshot of my geriatric ramblings of my clubbing antics in Tokyo.
Yesterday I met a chick who I called Michigan, because she called me Peaches, and Michigan and Peaches went out on the town. We just had to wade through an obscene amount of slushy snow to get there.
It was Michigan's idea, and we had a reasonable group of hostel residents with us, whom she had collected throughout the day. We were going to Club Atom because our outing coincided with Valentines Day and the venue was hosting some great DJs for the occasion. We danced until our feet ached, and then we danced some more. So much so that even now, hours later, my feet are throbbing from the exertion or from walking in the snow. One or the other.
We partied all night, Michigan had found a cute boy to dance with, whilst I had retreated to a chair to console my complaining feet, and then caught the first train back to Anne Hostel.