Disadvantages of Being Short and in a Packed Club Any Given Saturday Night

So my best friend, concerned with my absolute lack of updated knowledge on 'music-y joints', dragged me to a popular club downtown last night. It had all the essentials - celebrity DJ, girls with make up and cocktail dresses, men with the buttons of their shirts opened (seriously, its NOT sexy) and the bass hitting the roof.

Naturally, I sauntered in expecting to have a good time. Then it struck me that I was having a lot of difficulties that most other people around me were not. And these difficulties I correctly attributed to that face that I'm miniscule (Ok I'm 5'2", but that’s not saying much either):

1. One has to stand on tiptoe in order to be spotted by the bartender, which results in a great deal of frustration and loss of energy in trying at get his attention. Aaargh!
2. One is at the underarm level of most men and therefore has to tolerate gusts of perfumed breezes wafting in the direction of one's nose. Probably one of the few situations in life where one can say 'Warning: Breathing can be fatal'.
3. One has to wear heels and therefore break an ankle in an attempt to shake a leg.
4. One gets one's feet stepped on. A LOT. And the crime usually goes unnoticed by the perpetrators.
5. While dancing, one mostly gets shoved around in the general direction of the swaying of the large hairy man next to one. And non-coordination messes with my head. Badly.
6. Any cool moves go unnoticed due to the lack of height.
7. Below the line of vision of most cute men :(
8. The mirror in the ladies' will not offer a full length view of oneself. At the most, till mid-thigh. Dayum.
9. Get asked for proof of one's age at the entrance. Ouch. I'm 23, moron. Don't let my youthful beauty fool you.
10. When the DJ waves at the crowd and asks if 'we're havinaaa goood taaaaaaaiiiiiim?!', no point in waving back enthusiastically. He can't see you. Just go back to floor level where you belong, Hobbit.

But despite it all, I can't say I had a bad time. Lost a few kilos dancing, peered over a banister from the fifth floor into the pouring rain, shrieked and jumped when a good song played and, like an experienced and frustrated Bangalore party-goer (you couldn't tell that I'm not actually one), yelled and shook my fist at all and sundry because there was no after-party.

All in all, an evening well spent.