I went with my friend Elmira to LAP at the Hotel Samrat, an exclusive members-only night club/lounge bar that is owned by some Bollywood star. We went on the invitation of the corporation Elmira is having her internship with this summer. I was slightly confused as to why we, completely unimportant students, were being invited to some corporate big-wig night. I did have the thought that maybe it had something to do with us being firmly within the 'young and female' category...Elmira had assured me however that it was all very much above board and they were giving us free alcohol and transport anyways. I am always up for trying new things, and seeing as I will probably never have the chance to go to one of these things again, I thought it could do no harm.
LAP is not what I expected. You would think such an exclusive and hyped place would be buzzing, or at least, incredibly opulent and jaw-dropping when you walk in. Instead it was mediocre decor, not much ambience what so ever and some absolutely terrible lighting. You could barely see two feet in front of you, which was maybe a good thing, as when you squinted through the gloom you got a look at some of the 'high points' of the decoration. These included a brown-grey chandelier and some mock-Victorian Raj style paintings of some quite ugly women. Unfortunate. The bar tenders knew more than your average however and could mix a very good mojito I quickly found out. The drink was free, so every time you finished one they brought another to you before your empty glass had hit the table. Can't fault the service on that front. I didn't eat any of the food on offer, though Elmira said it was lovely. I really should have eaten the food, as I hadn't had dinner (idiocy) and proceeded to drink a LOT. More on the effects of that one later.
Aside from the slightly disappointing setting, the most interesting thing about the night was the company. Men old enough to be my father (or older in fact) in IPL cricket shirts schmoozing away with each other. All were Danish or Scandinavian, most based in Singapore, all very rich and all very intelligent. I found one who was half British and spent the evening mostly chatting to him about home and life in India. I found it all very odd. All these middle aged men making small talk with Elmira and I and a few other pieces of far posher Indian totty scattered throughout the room. Two of the Indian girls I managed to chat to were air hostesses. Is it just me, or is that horrifyingly inevitable? Possibly it was all in the name of corporate big-wigging, but I did feel like I was probably only there to provide a polite foil to some drunk Danish's posturing and some eye candy. I think the greatest moment came when one of the men was telling me about he had taken up skiing at 37 (he was no longer 37, most definately the past tense) and then asked me if I liked skiing and I said I was able to ski and had learned a few years ago. This led to a "Ahhh when you are young I am sure it is easier" which in turn brought on a "And how old are you? You are a student, yes?" My triumphant "Actually, I am only twenty. PRACTICALLY A CHILD (you lech)" made me smile and them raise their eyebrows so high they nearly disappeared into their receding hairlines and quickly excuse themselves. Most satisfying.
The cab ride home was what did it for my stomach. I had had four glasses of white wine and two mojitos, no food since lunch and more disheartened leches than I could handle in one night. Was quite, quite sick. Yummy. First time I have been sick from alcohol in quite some time. it meant I didn't have a hangover the next day though, which was just as well, because if I had done I wouldn't have been able to start my essay at all.
Said essay is still occupying my time and becoming more and more urgent every day. Gah.
On a different note:
On Saturday I will leave Delhi. It is, just about, over. I am going to be travelling, but you know...no more Delhi for a month. It hasn't really sunk in yet.
Ciao.
x
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