An Evening Amidst The Mancs

"The beatification of the beat. The dance age. This is the moment when even the white man starts dancing. Welcome to Manchester." - Tony Wilson

Since the restaurant industry can't stop for a second during the busy weeks leading up to Christmas, the staff Christmas party is postponed until late January. This year, as is apparently the annual tradition, the party was in Manchester. Living Ventures, the company that owns and operates the restaurant and all of its sibling units across the UK, hosted the party at a city centre club. Free food, free drinks, and a coach to and from Manchester.

The party was "fancy dress" so we had to dress up as an actor, actress, or character from a movie or television. I decided (a moan from those who've seen my work) to reprise my role as Duke Raoul (AKA Dr. Hunter S. Thompson), as played by Johnny Depp in Terry Gilliam's classic adaptation of Thompson's novel, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The costume is rather easy to gather: flowery button-up shirt, shorts, fishing hat, big sunglasses, and the key to the character, the cigarette holder. I managed to only spend about £10 on the lot. The sunglasses I borrowed from a co-worker. It seems, oddly enough, that sunglasses are a seasonal thing here. At one place the reply I got when I asked if they had sunglasses was, "Not yet." Seems strange coming from a place where it's actually brighter in the winter than the summer.

The coach was luxury. I've never ridden on a bus like that. It must have cost our manager a fortune. I know he was none too pleased that the final count on attendees was a measly eight. The back of the bus was a lounge area that seated about five, with a little table in the middle.

When we got to the city there was a queue of all kinds of characters waiting to get in. I spotted another Thompson. No surprise really. That happened last Hallowe'en too. As time went by I met more and more of us. At final count there were no fewer than five Hunter Thompsons about, in various forms. The best one was the Las Vegas visor Duke, complete with flyswatter.

There were a lot of Ali G's about. I think they must sell the yellow track suit in stores here, or some kind of Ali-G-in-a-bag type thing. I was surprised to see a Richie Tenenbaum, recalling my architecture days when a group of us played the whole family. I also met two William Wallaces (both of whom were actually Scottish). Most of the costumes, however, weren't recognisable. I think a lot just put on some combination of strange things to look like something. Two of the guys in our group went as extras in TV shows. Of course they had specific titles though (e.g. Bystander number two in The Bill.)

The food wasn't the feast I was expecting. There were some nachos and salsa, spring rolls, some sort of deep fried ball of something, and various other hors d'oeuvres. Also, the mixed drinks were contained in a tub at the bar table. If you wanted a drink, you just dip your cup in the tub. I was appalled that a function put on by a restaurant would condone such an unhygienic practice as this. But enough of the complaints. It's supposed to be a party in the city that invented parties like this.

At around 12:00 the lights came up and groups started gathering outside for their rides. It turns out these "24-hour party people" are like all other British institutions. Early to bed early to rise I guess. That is one thing that I have found to be true here in Britain. Even in places like London and Manchester, things close up early. When I lived in Winnipeg there were three 24-hour places across the street or kiddy-corner to the apartment. Here you have to find a gas station if you want something late at night. I'm reminded of an 80s British spoof group called Morris Minor & the Majors who did a song called Stutter Rap, where they parodied the Beastie Boys' No Sleep 'til Brooklyn. At one part in the video they are having tea, tucked into bed discussing how late people stay up in America. The gag now makes perfect sense.

After a stop at a petrol station for some crisps, sandwiches and other overpriced snacks, we hit the road for Notts. The two-hour bus ride back to Nottingham was rather quiet as the entire bus fell asleep within the half-hour.

So I didn't get as good a look at Manchester as it deserves. I will hopefully be able to take a trip back there and give it a proper visit. For now, back to work in the kitchen. With just over a month left to work I'm starting to get the hang of things there, but I must admit it will be a relief to leave there, and enter the world of willfull unemployment; scrimping and saving.

Cheers.