The Ying And The Yang

To every equal there is an opposite, tonight we are to meet Tim's. Neil is on his way and with him is his colleague and long time mate 'Brett'.
“Well that will make Brett positively cosmopolitan for most of the Bar Med clientele” Tim replies once I've explained that Brett moved over from Oz a few years ago, “He should do well here” and Tim waves to the mass of people that have now begun to arrive.

Brett is the ying to Tim's yang, same sort of height, age, field of work, plenty in common but existing at the other end of life's spectrum. Brett wears beads; not the conspicuous type but the ones that jangle with the slightest of movements, in the middle of the beads is an odd shaped piece of metal like a mini ‘Batleth’ (Klingon sword like weapon). He has an eyebrow pierced, long dark shoulder length hair and greets everyone with a cheery 'G'Day' because Brett really is an Australian. He likes to dance, even without beer Brett likes to dance, you just try and stop him. He uses lots of colourful expletives, as is customary with antipodeans. As I watch Brett dance it strikes me that he doesn't do the usual conformist dancing, no small slight moves, he dances like a wild man and I wonder if this is an aboriginal technique that has filtered down through popular Australian culture. The personal body space he requires for his 'moves' is four fold that of his fellow dancers. "But watch…" Tim tells me pointing to a couple of girls on the edge of the dance floor and coming closer to the ever advancing Brett. The girls look nervous and when it looks like Brett's bouncing around is in danger of causing body contact they run away. "Ahhh, but watch those girls there…" I point to three young ladies who approach the dance floor and immediately join him. Three for the price of two seems like a good trade, fair dinkum. Eventually I join them and dance, I dance with abandonment and as I do in my head Bar Med becomes a happier place.

Tim plays it cool, behind me he stands with a drink in his hand, in front of me are Neil and Brett stomping in time with a heavy bass and mingling with a mass of dancing bodies. I turn, look to my left and look to my right, dance or drink? So my time is split, I drink a bottle, then dance and repeat. Brett represents the light drinking and heavy dancing while Tim is the opposite. Eventually we decide to move on to Ikon Diva, against my wishes and better judgement.

To begin with Brett prefers it upstairs, with its young and hardcore style, while Tim prefers the gentle melodies of ‘10CC’ and ‘Dexy’s Midnight Runners’ downstairs, again showing how different they both are. I think Neil belongs upstairs while I’d rather be back at Bar Med or falling asleep in bed. We start downstairs and to Tim’s protests end up moving upstairs. While the three of us are dancing I see a couple of guys floating towards us. Small chaps with tight trousers and tops that could be lycra vests, their hair is highlighted and together they look like a couple of super heroes, a duo of ‘Boy Wonders’ or possibly super villains, star midget wrestlers at a push. One moves behind Neil while the other moves behind Brett and then their dancing becomes a little more ‘gyrating’ while the moves are a tad more suggestive. Some entertainment is best observed instead of becoming direct audience participation; I can see what’s coming. I scarper off the dance floor and pull Tim’s attention to the unfolding spectacle. By now it’s difficult to see if the likely duo are making physical contact with Neil and Brett but the expression on Brett’s face shows a look that is no longer jovial and happy. Brett and Neil stop dancing and an exchange of words follows, Neil is all smiles while Brett looks more pissed off, at the same time me and Tim are laughing. Eventually the dancing begins again and looking crestfallen the two small lads slope off. Later Neil told me how he had explained to the guy that he took it as a compliment but was both straight, married and happy that way. I’m not too sure what Brett said, something very blunt and not too PC I'd guess, obviously we took the piss some. The bonus for Tim was that we went downstairs after that and stayed there.

The night ended with a trip to a kebab house, not the one where the bloke behind the counter reckons Tim looks like Jack Dee (we’ll steer clear of there for a while *see The Metaphorical Ten Minutes ).