Nothing screams terror quite like a room of humanities students in costume. The Humanities Ceilidh was full of good food and cheap alcohol, a recipe for a Gaudie disaster. Costumes ranged from on the nose bourgeoisie caricatures to movie characters. One Gaudie editor was dressed up as the incarcerated Luigi Mangione… or something like that, the first name was definitely Luigi. He was wearing a green shirt and hat but he was Italian with a dazzling smile which could have been either, really.
The evening hosted tarot card readings where it was confirmed by the universe that I needed to drink less; I washed that news down with a refill of champagne. There were plenty of opportunities to be thrown around by a complete stranger under the guise of Scottish tradition but really just to feel something. For the few Gaudie people there, it was an opportunity for us to bond in an unprofessional capacity. Our Editor-in-Chief gave a speech at the beginning of the night, but once he left we had free reign. We spoke about an array of interesting and varied topics, for example: writing our upcoming articles, editing our upcoming articles and finally, producing them! I’m not quite sure why so many people left the room when we started talking?
The night wrapped up with more champagne being consumed at rapid rates. I shed a tear when “Auld Lang Syne” played to end the ceilidh because I just love humans and miss school assemblies and masses I was made to attend. This was a completely sober thought and I would’ve cried anytime, anywhere. I decided I needed a pint to get my energy back up as the night was not over.
With our tickets, we had exclusive access to an Aberdeen “club.” We stumbled our way to the bus stop and piled onto the “1” into town. On the bus we came across some slightly questionable and definitely racist costumes but I guess Halloween is about scary things, right? As a history and IR student, I know a thing or two about insane racists. Nothing problematic there…
We made our way down winding stairs to the club beneath Drummonds (I’m as shocked as you are that it exists). We had to give our names to the bouncer outside which as frontline journalists got us all a bit paranoid. As I turned the corner I was met with 4 DJs in a booth with no glass, all of them looked 12 and were playing unidentifiable house music. They could’ve thrown us a bone and at least played one Chappell Roan song. All of my requests for non-political music from Kneecap were rejected.
But one thing about the Gaudie is that we are like chameleons, there isn’t a crowd we don’t fit into. So stolen bottles of champagne and pretentious costumes were all the rave in Drummonds, I promise. Now if this piece of groundbreaking, on the ground journalism hasn’t inspired you to get Rowdy with the Gaudie, then I’m actually not sure what will. I hope to see you all next year in your most tone-deaf costumes.
