Down at the Watering Hole

Definition of ‘clique’ according to www.wordnetweb.com: an exclusive circle of people with a common purpose

After extensive partying over the past couple of months, I have come to notice the more “Clique-y” side of the local watering holes myself and my mates frequent. I’m not talking gazelles, lions & hippos people, I’m talking the blatantly obvious stereotypical cliques that we thought we’d left behind in high school. I seem to have only observed them recently, and now I see the large part they play in our common goal to attempt to achieve advanced states of mental incompetence, by repeatedly consuming fermented vegetable drinks.

This blog I dedicate to finding out where you, me and Bob the washed-up-high-school-scrumhalf fit in. So sit back and take a load off, we’ll be entering the unknown... (Cue scary movie music)

Seeing as I went there, (inserting the imaginary thriller type music) let’s begin with something scary. First up on our list are the Emos... Let’s discuss. Along with the skinny jeans, ‘guyliner’, band shirts, gender-confusing fringes and general state of unhappiness, emos tend to keep to themselves in shady corners, conversing amongst themselves, shooting furtive glances at the “happy” faces all around. To you, dear emos, I say that it may be that your sole purpose in your life is simply to serve as a warning to others... dum dum daaaaaaaaa..
Ok, ok - I suppose the emos need to drink too.

Toward the opposite side of this clichéd consortium of human beings, we find the Hippies / Flower Children. You know the red eyed, barefoot, incense burning “groovers” with tie-dyed dresses, screwed up hair - who serve as a ‘breath of fresh air’? Well, they cannot be trusted [or so I’ve been told]. If a hippy comes floating over, please people, make sure your drink is kept under constant surveillance. Also, as I’m sure you know, your ciggies will tend to find a way of disappearing into the great abyss, along with lighters. “Oh, I suppose it was meant to be with the gods of the universe that your stuff is going missing... Maybe you did something nasty in your past life when you were an earthworm...” Good theory Sunchild – is that your real name?! – but I have a few other ideas. Of course, being children of the corn and all, they tend to be friendly creatures, do like to mingle with the crowds and can often be seen having a dance (aided by the likely intoxication of various mood enhancers).

Next up and probably the biggest douches at the watering hole are, and will always be the ‘manne’, the ‘boytjies’, the, yes you guessed it...Jocks

These guys’ elevators don’t quite hit the top floor, so if I were you, I’d keep your intellectual jokes to yourselves. They’re the guys with the bulging biceps, the popped collars, and the perfectly styled hair who quite enjoy ‘moering’ anyone who looks at them vaguely strangely. Cross a jock and be prepared for a beat down. They usually sit nearest the entrance. As to why, I’m guessing - in order to strike fear into passing emos. They seem to emit that ‘this is my territory’ dog-like vibe, make the most noise, break the most glasses, and “score” the most chicks. Chris Isherwood said: “Life is not so bad if you have plenty of luck, a good physique and not too much imagination”. Hell, I’m not with him on that one, but apparently these boys are... By the end of the night you will you will be sure to have experienced two jock-like performances. Number 1: You’ll hear the greeting “what’s up boytjie, did you check the game hey” and, Number 2: One of these hardcore MEN will be ordered by the Jock ringleader to do “50 push up’s boytjie you said the word’’. Life is a zoo in a jungle, people; we drink to deal with it...

A subsection of the jock clique, is, what I’d like to call the “Jockettes”. These are the untouchables. Whichever watering hole you attend on a regular basis – you should know - in a heartbeat – who the jockettes are. They dress in the infamous belt/skirt, heels – inappropriately, in places such as gardens and unstable ground regions, they sport layers of war paint, and allow all or one of their ‘breasteses’ to pop out conveniently. They are the dolly birds who circle the jocks. If a morbid emo, trippy hippy, or ragged skater dare approach a jockette, one can assume a battle royal that would leave Alexander the Great speechless and a tad harmless looking, is to follow. Don’t even bother boys; Itchy, Twitchy and Bitchy have probably had more pricks than a second hand dartboard.

Arch nemeses to the jocks are the Skaters. Yes, they wear torn jeans, trucker caps, vests and broken shoes and are also VERY hardcore. They fall, they have scars, they don’t take shit from their parents and are, by all means not a good clique to look for shit with unless you want a skateboard to the skull. These “misfits” of society are generally good fun to be around, provided you keep your cocky comments to yourself, and your Dutch bravado in check. Unlike the Jocks, they won’t go out of their way to look for a fight. If it happens - you’ve looked for shit with the wrong animals, and you should probably run. You can also recognise this group by supercilious slogans on whichever part of their clothing they choose. Example: The Rules Don’t Apply To Me.

Time to introduce The Young ‘Uns. Seeing as most of us started out here, I’ll go gentle on this group. These are the latest victims to cheap alcohol and the ‘coolness’ of smoking cigarettes. They rock up at the watering hole in a pack of 300, walk up to the bar, order 3 alcoholic beverages and are miraculously pissed out of their skulls. (Note to self: Order Magic Young ‘Un beer next time at bar) They are also responsible for the most blown chunks, tears and fights out of all other cliques put together… It gets tiring, and annoying as fuck, but they’re getting used to mixing emotion and alcohol, so let’s give them a break. Are we there, yet?

Following, we have the bizarre, the weird, the whathefuck-is-your-deal cliques, namely the Floaters, Clingers and the Sketchy Old Guys. Shall I digress?

The Floaters: These are those people who go from table to table, group to group, the entire night. Whether it’s because of a lack of friends or a surplus of friends, these guys are busier than worker bees on the first day of spring. They arrive, place themselves into whichever conversation is occurring at that time, ask for drinks, leave everyone confused, and then haul ass?! Strange creatures indeed.

The Clingers: In my opinion, these animals are the equivalent of parasites in nature; they are the worst of the worst. They arrive alone, look for a suitable table to infiltrate, affix themselves to you for the entire evening, often fronting to be part of your clique or even your best friend. However, when their turn to buy the round arrives they mumble something inaudible, and head in the general direction of the toilet. This is the perfect time to pick up your shit, move to another less noticeable location, change pubs and/or run. The weirdo will be back when he/she thinks you are too drunk to remember how much you DON’T KNOW said clinger.

The Sketchy Old Guys: Not much elaboration needed. Here’s the situation. This dude rocks up looking all sketchy like, finds a prime targeting position as close to the bar as possible and sets about luring – most commonly – one of the Young ‘Uns into his twisted grasp, by offering and buying the unknowing victim shooters and drinks. This gets the Y.U so visually impaired that she will most likely overlook the muffin top belly and/or receding hairline. These guys need to be noted, and stayed away from. They are frowned upon by most cliques. And they pretty much suck.

Most important to any watering hole would be the: We're just here to throw our names away and mock each other mercilessly clique.

These are the people who you wish would form part of your clique. We, and I include myself here, are the fun loving people who find solace in the ice cold golden nectar of the gods that makes the week seem all the more worth it. The in-depth drunken conversation, the uncontrollable-beer-in-nose-laughter, the merciless taunting and teasing of each other, we are pretty damn awesome. We have no distinguishing features and are the enigmas of the drinkery. 99.95% of the time we will out-drink you, out-party you and out-smart you, all in one swirl of a draught glass...

See you tonight, yeah?