I was in the vicinity of Zouk last Friday night because I got word that some friends were drunk, and I had to go take a look. It turns out that I wasn't disappointed, because I was treated to a highly entertaining display of F words uttered by the most unlikely person ever, and the rest of my friends were doing their best to prove that they had jelly for legs.
After awhile though, that got a little more silly than I thought, and since I couldn't get into the club as I'd arrived late, I took a walk around the area. Walking around, I was remarking to myself that the pavements around Zouk must be mighty comfortable, since there were so many people sprawled around in all positions sound asleep.
It was weird to me because I could have sworn that the pavements were as filthy as the ones all over Singapore, if not filthier, as some of them were lined with puke, cigarette ash and the presence of the drunks of nights past. But that didn't stop anyone though. I guess when you are drunk any flat surface is home. That applies especially if there isn't anyone to take you home. The only catch is, even if there is, the home is not necessarily yours.
I saw many girls slouched against walls looking glassy eyed into space, with faces red but definitely not from embarassment, because they certainly didn't make any attempt to cover up. They might not have been able to anyway, because I don't think boutiques operate for 24 hours. Perhaps they could have gone into the nearby hotel to request for a bath towel, but nah, I guess it doesn't go with the dress.
I spied another girl of not more than 18 driving away from Zouk with a cigarette in hand, giving her best impression of "bad girl". It wasn't half bad, because she was dressed fittingly for the part, in a dress so short I think they must have ran out of material when they were stitching the hemlines but decided to sell it anyway so young skanks would buy them. They succeeded.
You might notice I haven't mentioned guys. That's because there weren't any. There were only two types of people there that night. Young girls, and wolves in heat. The latter, they had but one thing in mind, and Zouk has better drinks and girls than Geylang.
After awhile though, that got a little more silly than I thought, and since I couldn't get into the club as I'd arrived late, I took a walk around the area. Walking around, I was remarking to myself that the pavements around Zouk must be mighty comfortable, since there were so many people sprawled around in all positions sound asleep.
It was weird to me because I could have sworn that the pavements were as filthy as the ones all over Singapore, if not filthier, as some of them were lined with puke, cigarette ash and the presence of the drunks of nights past. But that didn't stop anyone though. I guess when you are drunk any flat surface is home. That applies especially if there isn't anyone to take you home. The only catch is, even if there is, the home is not necessarily yours.
I saw many girls slouched against walls looking glassy eyed into space, with faces red but definitely not from embarassment, because they certainly didn't make any attempt to cover up. They might not have been able to anyway, because I don't think boutiques operate for 24 hours. Perhaps they could have gone into the nearby hotel to request for a bath towel, but nah, I guess it doesn't go with the dress.
I spied another girl of not more than 18 driving away from Zouk with a cigarette in hand, giving her best impression of "bad girl". It wasn't half bad, because she was dressed fittingly for the part, in a dress so short I think they must have ran out of material when they were stitching the hemlines but decided to sell it anyway so young skanks would buy them. They succeeded.
You might notice I haven't mentioned guys. That's because there weren't any. There were only two types of people there that night. Young girls, and wolves in heat. The latter, they had but one thing in mind, and Zouk has better drinks and girls than Geylang.