Photos from Jase Mueller - here
Glasgow is hardcore. Definitely not for pussies and ladies of the Temperance Society.
Last Saturday night, Paul and I went out with some friends for a quiet pint at a local pub. After the last pints were pulled and the pub was due to shut, we shuffled out into the cold and set upon finding another establishment that was still serving but wasn't a club (and, ideally, didn't have a cover charge). So, we headed to Sauchiehall Street to find out what was happening at Nice N Sleazy. The line to get in was way too long and I have policy that goes something like this: I don't wait to get in ANY pub. I'm not a diva but I also don't wait around in line to get into some hole in the wall to drink. I just don't. And on top of that, you want me to PAY to get in!? Get tae fuck. So, with that, we headed to The Box. I love The Box: it's open late, there's no coverage charge, and they play awesome music.
Anyway, I'm not someone who is easily shocked - naive perhaps, but I'm still pretty jaded - but walking along Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday night at 1.00am, was unbelievably surreal and just plain ol' disgusting. I've lived in Glasgow for about four years now and maybe it's because I don't often frequent the Sauchie strip at such hours, but I have never seen ANYTHING like it. It sort of resembled ...well....something like this - minus all the guns, of course, and handsome men like Clive Owen.
I'm not exaggerating when I say that I saw three people - THREE PEOPLE - being arrested; people stumbling drunkenly through the streets, looking like they've just survived a war; young girls teetering like gazelles in high heels; and utter drunken chaos.
Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday night is a surreal dystopian post-apocalyptic world visualised in films such as Children of Men and Blade Runner, only we're fucking living in it and minus the cool soundtrack.
Four years ago, when I first moved here, I fiercely embraced Glasgow. And like any relationship, I accepted all her faults, whatever they may be, and am devoted to her. However, this is something else. It's almost, dare I say it, terribly embarrassing. Can you imagine what tourists must think if they naively decide to take a late night stroll. A lot of people - especially Americans - have an idealised vision of Scottish people: that they're all Shortbread-baking, Haggis-eating, Kilt-wearing lovable people - and yes, the Scots ARE lovely and warm people, but jesus, I pity any poor tourist that stumbles across Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday night.