Why do I hate going to pubs?
This
being the Newyears’ eve my friends were asking me if we should go to a pub. I
reacted like a waiter at a vegetarian restaurant who was asked to serve beef
fry. Then I wondered as to why I had such a violent reaction. It dawned on me
that going to a pub is one of the traumatic memories that I carry with me.
It happened thus. During my MBA
days, one of my dear friends took me to a pub. We were a group of three if I
remember right. The beginning was like any other restaurant. You go and sit
there and the waiter comes and asks you as to what do you need. I looked at the
menu. My friend said that lets order some drinks first. Here starts the issue. I
am a teetotaler. In less pretentious English, I do not drink. There were very
few items on the menu which I was familiar with. So I sought my friends’ help
and we ordered some mocktail. Eager to jump in to starters, I finished my
mocktail only to notice that my friends were just about quarter way through
their large beer mug.
This is when I thought I will start
some conversation. Exactly at that moment, blaring music started to play. It
was so loud that I couldn’t hear myself thinking! Oh did I tell you that I do
not have an ear for English music? Especially the loud ones! I looked at my
friends. They were singing along and blissfully enjoying their drink. By now, they were half way through their
drink. I asked my friends, “Shall we order food?” They said that we will take
it slow and ordered some starters. I was told later that if you have too much
food, it affects your capacity to drink. I was slow with the starters for I
knew that if I finish the starters, I won’t have anything else to do. I waited
painfully for my friends to finish their drink.
My friends finished their drink. I
thought at least now, they will order the main course. It is then that the
waiter came and asked if he could bring a pitcher. I had no clue what that meant.
My friend asked if he should go ahead and order a pitcher. Clueless as ever, I
said yes, why not! And then the waiter brings a mini drum kind of a thing
filled with beer to the brim. That mammoth of a container is called a pitcher!
Again, the whole exercise started. My friends slowly started drinking it and I
painfully stared at the ceiling of the pub and the carpet at regular intervals.
In between, we ordered some food. I
was the only one who was eating away since my friends were on a mostly liquid
diet that day. Almost when I thought the torture was coming to an end, someone came
and told the three dreaded words “Come, let’s dance!” If you think Sunny Deol
cannot dance, I am his choreographer. That is how bad I am. By the end of that
evening, I understood what feeling out of place truly meant!
So this Newyear, if you don’t want
to go to a pub, don’t go. Live your life with your choices. Do not fret about
if it is cool or not. Your definition of cool need not be what the world of pop
culture says. Your definition of cool should be what makes you happy.
Here is to a New year which makes
you genuinely happy and not just a check in on your social media. Here is to a
New year where the people around laughs with you and not at you. Here is to a
New year where all of us live by our choices and not of the world’s.