The long weekend is drifting to an end. We — in the good company of W Boson and E-Reader — spent some time in a hotel perched at the edge of a cliff, with a view over a considerable expanse of the Outpost, especially on Saturday, which was a bright and clear day. On Sunday we went to the nearby beach, where we flew a kite, which we thoroughly and vividly enjoyed. Highlights included (apart from the kite going reaaaally high): W Boson climbing on a tree to untangle it as well as collecting it from within the water and getting it to fly immediately afterwards (synthetic fabrics rule).
And on Sunday night, I finally discovered the city of Aerosol.
But let’s take things from the beginning. The city of Aerosol is the second largest in the Outpost, roughly 80 km from the Capital. I had been there twice before last weekend and I intensely hated it outright: a tremendously ugly sprawl of brutalistic architecture disgustingly splattered across 17 km of beach and engulfing a once cute and now crumbling old city, it made the Capital look in comparison like, I don’t know, Milan or something. In fact, Aerosol was the only place that triggered in me lucid fantasies of nuclear annihilation. Nevertheless, everybody would insist that Aerosolians are cool and that Aerosol nightlife is incomparable. They were right.
We arrived at Aerosol on Sunday night, tipped off to try a number of places. We were told that on days like these ‘the whole of Aerosol is a big party’. The streets were nevertheless empty and silent, there was nobody in sight and I said to Jod, “yeah, De Chirico’s party”. We went to one of the bars recommended, it was hyperposh and booked out. So we turned back and decided to have a look around. That is when we discovered the Graffiti bar. That was the very moment when
a) Tot rang us to say she was on her way to Aerosol and
b) we bumped into yet another friend from the Capital, One of the Seven.
(This is one good thing about small places, by the way.)
This instantly and spontaneously assembled crowd went into the Graffiti, which simply is the best bar in the Outpost so far; the Outpost having quite a lot of them, as a tourist trap (sorry, ‘destination’), this is no small accolade. The atmosphere was tremendous but laid back, the spirits were sky-high, the crowds were informal, fun and having fun, the place was decorated with just the right twist, the DJ was successful in balancing between what people want and a good show. We were dancing near the door, so we could see everyone coming in: even wankers (you can easily tell who they are) looked exceptionally cool.
Incidentally, while we were dancing, two charming women came in and occupied the reserved table next to us. They somehow looked like prototypical seekers of a guy for a threesome, I thought, but then I blamed my lubricious mind and returned to dancing. After a while, another five women and a guy dressed in a pimp-grade suit out of Miami Vice came in and joined the duo. I suddenly realised: these were artistes (and their shepherd) on a night out during their night off. They proceeded to offer everyone a (fully clothed) free show, although, thanks to the guy in the beige suit, its value was mainly comical, rather than anything else. This ostensibly disappointed a bunch of staring guys…
At 2:30 am we drove back to the Capital, the motorway was empty and the drive enjoyable. So, yes, viva Aerosol.