No.382 Of Beirut & Party time

We tried attempt No.2 last night to get in THE nightclub in Beirut. This time it worked. The doorman remembered me and apologised for knocking me back the night before for wearing shorts (and Crocs at a guess) and he explained in very good English that he was just doing his job. I explained I had my trousers shipped in specially from the UK to make sure we got in this time and he very politely smiled in response to such a rotten attempt at humour.
In my 20s I used to hate nightclubs but always pretended that I liked them and was having a good time. By my 30s I didn't bother with the latter bit and as I headed toward my 40s would even make a point of being miserable in the hope that my company would know not to invite me again. But last night something strange happended. I actually had a really good time. The nightclub had five live bands on stand playing anything from Reggae to Spanish and Arabian to Cuban music. In between the re-setting of the stage they played some of the best 80s music going. And golly was my dancing the best? Probably not come to think of it.

The Arabs I learnt are even more precious about the space around them and how you should not encroach upon it than the English. As soon as they as much as touch you lightly on the dance floor they come up to you apologising and offering something which I'm supposing is like "Allah be with you" and they expect the same back (or English equivalent) if the same happens in reverse.

We left about 2.30a.m. when others were still arriving. Boy, can Beirut party.