by wild_quinine on Sat Oct 25, 2003 10:06 am
Taken from 'A year in Fife Park'.
Now, the bop was in decline in our second year. Nobody seemed quite as up for it as they had been in our less cynical generation. The bop, incidentally, was the student union’s second rate attempt at a disco, held every weekend.
In the first year, they had even had foam parties. (xxxxx had cracked his chin open whilst sliding around one night, and then there were no more foam parties.) It was an euphoric but short lived phase of our lives, although, to be honest, only the most nostalgic of us could have remembered them fondly. At the height of the foaming we were looking at about a half an inch coverage of wet suds, which dissolved into a slippery mess less than thirty seconds after they turned off the foam sprayers. Luckily we’d all be outrageously drunk by the time we got into the lather, and so we weren’t measuring fun by volume of foam.
The important thing about those days wasn’t that they were particularly good; it was that people were willing to throw themselves around in filthy wet shite until injuries took them out of the game. Damn, but that stuff hurt when it got in your eyes.
By second year, the bop had devolved into three hours of bad music with three people dancing to it. We went every week.
: )