#ThrowbackThursday - The Baja Days

Now, if you're not from Newcastle, Gateshead or somewhere around here, you will probably have no idea what I'm talking about when I refer to Baja Beach Club. But no matter, as wherever you live, you will almost certainly have had a nightclub which was EXACTLY like this. Welcome to 1999.

- You have to queue for an hour in the freezing cold to get in, even though it's 7.30pm and there are only four people inside so far.
- You discuss what you might have to drink, knowing that you'll ultimately end up with six bottles of Hooch, the same as the last twenty five times you've been.
- You have a space of approximately 30cm x 30cm squared in which to dance. Accidentally moving outside your square may result in a drink spilt on you/being inappropriately touched/a fight breaking out.
-  From about 9pm to 12am you have absolutely zero chance of getting anywhere near the bar, unless you're either very short and can crawl through people's legs, or someone at the front takes pity on you. Elbows at the ready.
- Music played is on a strict schedule from which there is to be absolutely NO deviation whatsoever. You want a song request on? Tough. It's 9.08pm, which means it's Mambo Number 5. Suck it up.
- You spend at least fifty percent of your night queuing for the loos, even though girls are going into toilets in groups of three or four, as every time you reach the front, someone barges past into the only empty and clean(ish) cubicle, shouting "m'sgunnabesiiiiiiiiccccckkkk!"
- At 11pm everything stops for 'The Diet Coke Break'.This means some skinny local lad coming out onto a stage semi naked (looking NOTHING like the Diet Coke fella off the telly, I can tell you).
- You refuse to leave until the DJ has played 'Don't Call Me Baby' by Madison Avenue, because "That's our song maaaaaannn!!"
- If you think getting a taxi home will be a doddle, you can think again. Even though there are several hundred people spilling out of the club at closing time, there are precisely three taxis available. You'd better take off those (cheap) heels and get walking the mile - uphill - to the next taxi rank.
- You wake up the next morning with absolutely no recollection of the previous night, although your feet are bleeding and you have ten pounds more in your purse that you went out with. Camera phones are unheard of so that 'thing' you may or may not have 'done'? That stays with you, your mates and 300 strangers in a Northern nightclub.

Ah I miss those days!

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