HALLOWEEN PARTY

Saturday October 27th. Halloween fancy dress. I didn't really put any effort in. Just chucked on some skinnies, an emo top and my chunky nike trainers. The flat was packed. In what was the living room, 3 bands were setting up their equiptment. The sound system that had hosted a DJ the evening before, was set up for a indie and screamo kids. I was fucked before the first band had even finished their set.

The police raided.They pigs weren't as placid as the weekend before, they were detirmined to chuck us all out. And they did. The bands had to lug their drums, guitars, and emo fringes out of that flat in seconds. Awaiting the kids outside was two patrol cars and two riot vans. The police meant business. Everyone headed onto Urbis, the place where most of these lads and girls had spent long bleary-eyed days, before they convinced themselves they had grown up a bit.

The police cars circled Victoria, eyeing up the teenage scum.Instead of following the crowd, Me and my friends thought we'd be clever, and hang out on a park just off Miller Street under the CIS Tower and wait for it to blow over. I just assumed that the police would follow the kids, and take all their beer. Ask any indie, emo, goth or scene kid and you will find this is usually the case every weekend on Urbis. We wanted to keep our stash.

After about an hour, we headed back to the flat, got chatting to some kids in Halloween costumes and asked them what was going on. Even though they were under the influence of illegal substances they told us that everyone was going to a rave near Deansgate Lock and the former Gasworks site. I gave the hostess a ring, and she had lead this 150 strong indie army down Deansgate, and by the time we got there, the area infront of The Hilton Beetham Tower was full of us. Someone got a call, and we all headed off. Down past Gasworks towards the Mancunian Way.

Behind the swanky apartments and offices there was a massive wall, and a cobbled street. In the middle of this wall was a single steel door. We all huddled outside, waiting to be let in, and finally after a few minutes the door opened. As soon as the door opened the wreak of paint fumes in this massive warehouse hit me. There were bikes hung from the ceiling with strings holding them up. There were dogs running around, and bails of hay. there were art displays and music. All the time me and my mates looked puzzled at each other. What was this?

There was a massive Marquee-type enclosure. Inside was a massive projector screen showing messed up images in monocrome. Gazing mindlessly were all these 30 and 40 year old hippies, sat on sofas and chairs that your grandmother would have discarded in 1990. Some of these bearded guys, were shooting up. Nice.

Everyone from the party gazed around, looking at each other. It was like someone had put a catalogue of random drug-aided thoughts in a room and invited Manchester to see. There was a stage with strobe lights and DJ decks. I was told afterwards that the police had raided, but said that the ravers could stay, as long as the music stopped. The Greater Manchester Police were obviously busy that night.

After about half an hour of confusion we all left and the hostess was approaching people she knew quite well and whispering "You and two or three of your mates can come back to the flat, just keep it quiet". We headed up to G-Mex, and got the Met back to Victoria. The party resumed, everyone was told to be silent. After half an hour, everyone else that was previously there was raving once again, an iPod was linked up to the sound system. Everything was back to normal. If 150 drunken Uni students in a swanky flat could be described as normal.

At around 4AM a loutish neighbour burst in, shouting about the noise and vomit patches in the stairwells. A well-built scene kid confronting him and everyone circled."Who the fuck are you comin' into his house......"The argument went on and they both squared up to each other. After what seemed like 10 minutes (I was absolutely slashed remember) out of nowhere came this high-pitched childish voice:
"I know. Why don't we just push him out of the flat?"
It was legendary. Everyone obeyed the command of this dweeb and shoved this 30-odd year old guy towards the door. I can't describe how amusing it was.The door was closed, and everyone kept on pushing until he fell against the door. He was punched by three separate people and thrown out. After that soon so were we.
Me and a few friends made the long walk home.

I SAY: At least thanks to British Winter time we got an extra hour in bed.