After our little stint at Ric’s Bar, Simon and I begun our journey through the sea of people that congregate on Brunswick St every Saturday night.
The walk up to Family was a visual experience unto itself. On the RG’s side of the valley, there were the shirtless, sleaved-up punters speeding their way up from the Soundwave Festival at the RNA. Then on the Empire side, down came the muddy, schmegel’d Good Vibers, sort of hugging their way down the hill. The two met in the middle of Ann St. in a way that for some reason reminded me of a battle scene in Braveheart.
Both sides seemed to have this horrific disregard for oncoming traffic as they crossed the street. (Later on that night, we drove passed a person lying on the road who had been hit by a taxi – very sobering sight).
So we finally dodged our way up to Family where the line was massive. I knew for a fact that there weren’t that many people inside already and that it was purely a tactic to make people think that because there is a line out the front, the place MUST be good. When it comes to entertainment, popularity is king.
I must forewarn you, the camera on the night wasn’t working too well and I didn’t have a chance to photoshop any of my images but anyway ,here is a picture of me lining up. You can just see Simon behind me there.
Looking at what the people in the line where wearing, everyone in line seemed to be already branded by one thing or another.
Some even make it to the VIP line, which was only half as long but was filled with people that looked just like us. If you really think about it, the concept of ‘VIP’ is ridiculous.
After about 20min (which goes very, very slowly when you are sober), the security guard got up in our face and looked scrutinizingly back and forth between our ID and our face like we a contagious type of refugee.
So then, when we finally get to the front to get stamped and the bloody ticket scanner doesn’t work for the receipt I printed out two weeks ago!
I had legitimately paid for my tickets two weeks previous and was in no way in the wrong. However, the manager had the audacity to say to me, I quote.
“Nothing we can do about it. You’ll have to take it up with Moshtix.”
Then without letting me put a word in, he turned away into the darkness and we got kicked out. No Deadmau5 for us.
For about 20 minutes I was so pissed off with how un-hospitably I was treated I went straight out the front to fight the big Maori bouncer. (jokes)
But after about 30 min, I got thinking about it. I realise that places like Family are like that. People who make choices for themselves are a small minority of the patronage in places like that. The rest just sit there and cop it sweet. They don’t know who they are and they need to be told what to do. And more importantly, they are drip-fed alcohol to keep them that way.
So anyway, Simon and I drove over to Rumpus Room to have a silly dance with the rest of the turkeys of this world.