My 18th birthday, the Krazyhouse.
The Krazyhouse has been mentioned once or twice in previous answers, basically what the scallywags of Liverpool would refer to as a "goth nest" or something equally absurd/far off the mark. It has a reputation (deservingly so) of being fairly filthy, the toilets of floor 3 in particular.

My birthday was on a thursday night, fairly big student night in Liverpool. I was supposed to be up at 6.30 am the next morning for 6th form.

It's "241" on all drinks in there. Coupled with £1.25 pints in our starting place of choice messiness was *somewhat* inevitable.

Got to The Krazyhouse about 12.30-1 ish. Memory goes completely and utterly blank at about 2. It was supposed to shut at either 3 or 4, I can't remember which, not that it matters...

Next thing I can remember is the alarm of my phone going off at 6.30 and waking up. My first thought was that my mum had woken me up " Mum, what are doing in the Krazyhouse?" 2nd thought? "Oh shit, what I am still doing in the Krazyhouse?" 3rd thought? "Oh fuck, my mum isn't actually here. What am I supposed to do?"

I checked my phone to see dozens of missed calls and texts from my mates, who had spent most of the night searching for me before the bouncers chucked everyone (bar me, of course) out. I text a mate of mine "Where are you? I think I am still in the K." His response "at home, about to get ready for school. are you locked in?"

Yes I was locked in. Now with hindsight this could have been excellent, completely unguarded bars and except the slight headache no hang over. But I still had it in my mind that I could get to school in time for biology and therefore tried to escape. There was no way out. I even went into some sort of cellar/basement which was full of wires, clambered about in a labyrinth of a night club for a good 30 minutes to no avail, then disaster a door shuts behind me and I can't open it. I am trapped on a stairwell. But I'm in luck, there is a fire exit down the stairs. I force it open only to be met by shutters on the other side and a deafening alarm.

Here I am at about 7.30 in the morning, locked in a club that shut about 4 hours ago throwing mongy shapes around to the burglar alarm having a whale of a time. But alas, I scratch my head and then notice that my hand is now covered in blood. I didn't have a slight hangover headache I had a gash on the back of my head akin to the average female krazyhouse goer's clunge. I needed to act fast and with guaranteed results to get out. Who was I gonna call? Ghostbusters? Maureen? The men with moustaches? The police? Nah, fuck them. I was going to call my mum.

Opening the phone call with the line "Don't panic, but I am locked in a club covered in my own blood. I feel sound though, not even hungover" She was not as impressed with my ability to not feel rough after drinking as I thought she would be. True to form she came through and convinced me to call the police.

An hour later they turned up with the manager and let me out. The manager's first words to me? "Don't worry lad, you aren't the first and won't be the last"

After going to the hospital to get stitched up I stroll home around 11.30 in the morning where I was awaiting my mum's fury. Did she greet me warmly claiming to have been worried sick? Did she balls. Did she even shout at me for being such a tit? Did she balls. She just laughed in my face and said "good night, then?

No-one knows how I lost consciousness, no-one even knows where I was for the bouncers not to find me. I been back several times to try and find the magical stairwell I got locked on to no avail.

I was tempted to jump the bus into school for my english lesson/the adulation I would receive from my mates for pulling an all nighter in "the K". Nothing like studying some metaphysical poetry in the afternoon after raving to a burglar alarm in the morning.
(ste_mc_efc, Sat 11 Apr 2009, 14:38, 1 reply)

Your mum's hardcore
Not many people can laugh in someone's first.
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Sun 12 Apr 2009, 14:13, closed)