It’s 8pm on a Saturday, the sweet spot of the weekend, right between Friday hype and Sunday rest, the original party/ leisure mode activated. You are dressed up with a destination in mind; a lounge, butter your bread, you were just payed. Chats fly around on the phone and in the car with friends as you journey, with pictures made down for tomorrow posting.
10PM
You’ve arrived with friends, settled with either glasses of cocktail or whisky in hand as you sit vibing to the slow music weaving in the room. Then as the beat gets louder it starts leading, you are up on your seat, shaking what you can (basically what your mama gave you) or rocking a girl who has agreed to your charming smile.
1AM you can’t count the shots, but you are sure you’ve taken 5… no maybe 7 or 9, doesn’t matter now because your body has become one with every beat that echos in the room. Everyone around you, your table, the atmosphere all in the same energy as you, a sense of freedom clicks in, and you thank God that tomorrow is Sunday, at least the hangover won’t matter, church comes to mind but you brush it off saying “There’s always the 11am service, not just the 8am.” meaning more time to sleep.
3:30AM, the night is wobbly now, heels threatening betrayal, eyes staring at the bill, trying to confirm you’re paying for what you drank… but the numbers are dancing more than you did on the floor. After settling up, your “princess of the night” leans in for balance. You wonder if it’s support… or something more. Either way, you’re holding each other close. The car hum to life, your playlist kicks in, Reekado Banks’ Rora on the blast as your stomach votes for the next stop: Food
Please note: do not drive while drunk/after drinking.
4am, food ordered and served, you scroll your phone for time and messages, you smile and grunt because the night did you good but the headache is hitting, your body yearning to lie in bed. Belly full, heavy eyelids. The night’s final chapter is written: Home
Whether you return with a prince or princess, or with gist to stretch from Sunday evening to the boring weekdays, Saturday night has done what it does best, burned bright, ended late, and left you with memories worth more than sleep.
Now what’s your wildest Saturday night story?
