For the old clubbing mate

Some months ago, I came across a pile of old, pristine passes to the indie and alternative clubs I inhabited for a goodly portion of my uni nights, perfecting the art of ironic dancing, retro dressing and air hockey. Loathe to throw them out but unsure of what to do with them, I stashed them away.

Recently, I reconnected with a friend from these clubbing days after almost of decade of what he calls ‘lost years’. Aha! I thought when I received an invitation to his birthday, sensing that the passes could suddenly come in handy.

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