Sonder

A few of his friends had convinced him to join to Club 369. The venue was one of London’s most famous and popular spots for clubbing. Everyone seemed to love this place. Everyone except Oliver. The music here was too loud and repetitive to his liking. Also, it was so crowded that it was almost impossible to move around freely without bumping into people. The temperature was very likely to rise here to a point where you will be drenched in sweat even when you didn’t participate on the dancefloor. He definitely preferred any other place over this one here. Yet, he stood here, glass in his hand and leaning against the wall, observing all those that, for whatever reason, actually did seem to enjoy this place.

Oliver wanted to take another sip from his watery cocktail, but before his lips could reach the glass some bloke knocked it out of his hands. ”What the fuck,” he said, his voice clearly agitated. His newly bought shirt was now completely soaked by the contents of his drink. The culprit, however, seemed to be rather indifferent about the whole situation and stood there shrugging. When he was about to continue his way, Oliver grabbed his shoulder to make sure he would not leave him here without even giving him a proper apology. But instead of turning around and expressing any form of regret towards him, Oliver felt how the guy’s fist slammed against his face. For a second, Oliver stood there trying to process what just had happened, but soon enough he clenched his fists and tried to strike back. He hit something or someone but had no idea whether it was actually the guy he was aiming for or perhaps someone else that had to endure the blow. What he did know was that by now the little tumult had been noticed since a man came up to them, inquiring what was going on. ”He hit me,” he defended himself. Oliver tried to point at the guy, but suddenly he was nowhere to be seen.  

Oliver had no idea what was happening. One second he was about to have a decent fight with someone, the next one this person seemed to have disappeared in thin air. Slightly dazed by what just had happened, Oliver tried to scan the crowd, but the guy was nowhere to be seen. Instead, this man, who had a very serious look on his face, came up to him and started asking about the situation. Fortunately, he appeared to be less serious than Oliver expected when tried to put the blame on no one in particular. ”If it actually contains some liquor, yes,” Oliver eventually answered, bitterness in his voice. He wondered who this guy was, but judging from his looks and his arrogance he must be some kind of manager here.

The night did not go exactly as planned. Not only did he end up in his least favorite club, but he also managed to end up in some kind of quarrel. Now he was left with an empty glass and a face that coloured red from the blow. At least there seemed to be a bit of light at the end of the tunnel since he was offered a drink from the house. Oliver pointed out that he was fine with having a drink if it was not as watery as the ones he had before. The man, that was supposedly the manager here, raised a brow, wondering about the standards that he had. ”I know these are hard times, but there is no need to fill up a glass almost entirely with ice,” he explained, hoping that the guy would do something with the feedback that was given to him. Oliver followed him to the bar and heard how he was asked about his poison. ”A LIIT if possible, thank you,” he answered, trying to look at everything but the guy.