I wish I could say it was a blurry memory, but the events of Saturday, September 26 are clear in my mind.
It was a Saturday night at 11 p.m., when all of Gainesville stormed the pothole-ridden sidewalk that is Midtown. I suppose it didn’t help that the UF vs. Tennessee game was earlier that day and half of the Gator Nation decided to flood Grog to celebrate the nail-biting victory.
My two friends and I decided we were going to go to the infamous Grog, because do you really live in Gainesville if you haven’t been to Grog? The only catch? We were going to go sober. Let the social experiment commence.
When we arrived, Grog was at capacity and they were implementing everyone’s favorite “one in, one out” policy. Although the strategy might seem annoying to anyone who just spent the last hour trying to look Instagram worthy, fire hazards are a real thing.
As we were waiting in line, one of the bouncers came down the stairs escorting a man who had clearly consumed about as much alcohol as there is water in Lake Alice.
Halfway down the stairs he gave up on the concept of actually walking and just began to shuffle, spilling his drink each step of the way. I pointed out to the bouncer that he was spilling his drink on the very long line of Instagram worthy people, and he responded that it was just colored water — they had cut him off a while back when they realized he was drunk.
Nevertheless, this man made sure to stop and stare at everyone in the line, myself included. It took him about 10 minutes to walk shuffle down stairs that would take the average sober man about 10 seconds to walk down.
By the time the man actually made it down the stairs, we were already at the entrance and showing our IDs to get in. Apparently, I was so excited to get into the actual club that I handed the bouncer a ten dollar bill and walked away without my change. He had to call me back, return my three dollars and put the bracelet on me. The cute little elephants and monkeys on the bracelet were a nice touch. I felt as though I was back at Miami Children’s Hospital with a rash that wouldn’t go away.
Once we actually made it into Grog, the night became stranger.
There was one Tennessee fan in a sea of Gators, and it was very obvious that he had consumed about three times as much alcohol as the first drunk man I encountered. As opposed to the first lovely fellow, this man seemed like he was trying very hard not to just drop to the ground. His stare was one of complete concentration, as if he was trying to figure out how he could build a time machine and rig the fourth quarter of the Gator game. The situation escalated when he started to make some rather insulting gestures at some Gator fans, and the next thing I knew, he was gone. (Fingers crossed he’s still alive.)
In the midst of it all was a man who looked like he had rolled around in alcohol before consuming it. Sweaty and out of breath, he was dancing like he had just matched with bae on Tinder. He grabbed the first girl he saw and was dancing with her ferociously, leaving no room between them for the holy spirit. I assumed that the assortment of empty beer jugs and cups belonged to his group of friends because every time I danced near the table they would all huddle near it, like defensive linemen ready to pounce.
Everywhere I looked were intoxicated people of every variety. Some were having the time the time of their life, some were plain miserable and some were too drunk to be either. At times I felt like an alien observing a world where social norms didn’t exist.
My friends and I stayed until about 1:30 a.m. They started to play “The Circle of Life” and we knew it was time to leave. The saddest point in the night came when we were on our way back to the parking lot, and we saw a UF hat thrown on the floor in a puddle of dirty water. Now, I never pay attention to the filth of Midtown because that’s just what it is, filth, but on the night of a Gator W? Come on people, you crossed the line.
At the time, I had barely been in town for a month. I had seen some of my high school friends clearly intoxicated before, but this felt like it was that crazy party your BFF threw that one time while on steroids. From a sociological standpoint (here comes a freshman’s observations based on five weeks worth of sociology lectures), there was definitely a societal pressure to drink as soon as I set foot in Grog, and I can see why some people would feel secluded from the crowd if they were sober.
Although it may seem as though this was a strange, sober night on the town, it helped shaped the way I see my Gainesville nightlife plans in the future. Put simply, in order to have fun, be safe and not make a fool out of yourself, it is crucial to know when you’ve had enough.
While most people wouldn’t dare walk into a place like Grog without the help of liquid courage, I’m glad I did. It was good to see a piece of Midtown exactly how it is. Without the beer goggles.
