Summer Ball 2007: Caribbean Nights *

2007-06-11 7:32 p.m.

Summer Ball was just a blast! Shades of NJC Prom? Not a single bit. Shades of ACS (I) Grad Night 2001? About a hundred times (if not a thousand times better).

It’s a ball so you have to buy tickets. This was completed several days before my first examination with rain pelting down on us. “Us” included me, Paul, Rhys and two other history students, Laura and Nichola, as well as a doctor to be, Anna. The three girls and very bubbly and always induce a laugh amongst us every few minutes. Well, the laughter was mainly from the girls and Rhys while Paul and I engaged in some small talk. 25 quid each for a ticket and there was a slip for a free drink up to 4 pounds. Oh well, think Purchasing Power Parity (PPP) Exchange Rates and such (oh yes VAT).

Dress code naturally was formal but with examinations looming, there wasn’t exactly time to go shopping. I did buy a tie after examinations, really nice 100% silk tie for just under 10 pounds. My suit, was well, my same old suit, and shirt and the mix. That would pass for a Singaporean ball. For this one, oh no, not when more than half the gents were in Tuxedos. That included Paul and Tom. Tom even had a shiny light blue cumberband on. Ouch, I felt like a small dull fish amongst big ones. The girls, who we picked up at Flat 94 (along with Rhys), were just stunning. Nichola wore a sea-green dress while Laura was in a while Janet was ina great maroon dress. Oh yeah, Rhys was like me, shirt and tie except that his shirt was a white striped shirt and white tie. My tie was a little long but that wasn’t much of a matter. Oh yes, Anna was in a dark purplish or black dress and with her was Michael and another gent. Jade made up another member of our table. We trouped outside to catch Helen and the bus.

The bus was a few minutes late and Helen came in a cab. She wore a beige strapped dress and the ladies snapped photos of themselves. Bringing out my camera, I snapped two shots of the two gentlemen with me in Tuxs. With his sun glasses and black bowtie, Paul was a 007 look alike, minus the Walther PPK. The crowd thickened as we headed towards the main junction and we spotted Gary Hughes, Guild of Students President 06-07 in a tuxedo. But of course, he and Ed Sparkes, Tennis Courts super active President are good friends and Gary has done much for the Student body. Two queues snaked all the way to the road and Tom, Paul and I made some comments as we decided on which line to join. Finally, we boarded the bus we zoomed much like a maniac to the Football Club. Tom was still complaining about sitting down; it certainly is no joke wearing a cumberband. Oh yes, the girls were sitting behind with Rhys while Paul was chatting with some girl.

The TECRA (Tennis Courts Resident Association) promised that the Theme for the evening would be secret—that was alright with me, as I said, I didn’t have much time to shop. Drums beats made by people dressed in yellow T-shirts with flowers ringed around their necks. A Hawaiian Theme? Closer inspection would reveal that it was that of a Caribbean theme. Unofficially, I named it Caribbean nights.
Insight was filled with guests dressed as well as the twelve of us were. One glance told me that at least a few dozen guys were dressed in tuxedos. Ouch. I made a mental note to get one for future events. Tom drifted off while Paul and I fought through the crowds towards the bar. I copied Paul and ordered one large pint of beer—can’t remember the brand name, but I think it was German. Fighting our way again, we entered a sort of clear spot and caught up with Tom. Jenny soon was with us and we all greeted each other warmly, with me shaking Jenny’s left hand (we both had our drinks in our right hands). Paul glass was less than a third full as we all talked, but then again, you should no me and beers. My stomach started churning but hooray! I finished my whole pint by myself and headed to the table to grab the complementary drink. There were two kinds, I grabbed the non-alcoholic one. Oh well, back with Paul, I wondered around with the group until I spotted Ed Sparkes, Tennis Courts super active and well super great President. I headed over and he introduced me to Gary Hughes, who well, looked different from all his photos up close.

It was time to enter and Tom Paul and I entered into a dim room with sparkling lights on the walls and ceiling and a Spanish-Caribbean band belting out traditional tunes. We soon found our table, and if memory serves me right, we did it in the formal style, letting the ladies settle in first. Laura was to my left, Paul and Tom were on my right. Tom once again was complaining about the cumberband and left to adjust it. The band meanwhile continued with the tunes and we all got into the grove, clapping along and drumming our fingers on the table top. One of the songs was distinctively familiar—it was part of the background music in the first James Bond movie, Dr. No.

Dinner started late—it always does for such occasions. Oh yes, there was wine on the table, at least five bottles of red and wine. Paul sniffed at the red and poured almost a full glass for himself while I requested for the white. I can’t remember the brands off hand, there was a debate amongst the boys whether they were South African or Spanish—it wasn’t clearly labelled. The white wine was good (I can’t really describe it, ok it wasn’t sweet, but it was the perfect kind of white for my liking) and I graciously asked Laura whether she wished to have any wine. Paul however, was the one who poured her a glass. The music continued as the conversation flowed, with Paul encouraging me to talk Laura. I did, but the music did drown out almost everything.

The first course was Minestrone Soup with a selection of bread. Recalling my faux pas with dining on one or two occasions, I made mental notes to myself not to mess this dinner up. Indeed, I would dare say our table was picture perfect in table etiquette, waiting for everyone to be served scooping soup outward and breaking bread with our fingers. I finished it in record time—usually I take ages to finish my meal—and hardly a drop was left. The alcohol provided me with a ferocious appetite. While waiting for the second/main course, cameras came out again and pictures were taken. My shots that evening were horrible because firstly, the camera settings were not adjusted and I shook the camera—that’s a terrible habit of mine.

There was definitely lots of laughter at our table and others, but the jokes have faded mostly from my memory. Part of them were directed at Rhys, who coincidentally turned 19 on the same day. This should be noted for a part later on. The main course took really ages to come, finally we were presented with a medium sized lamb shank, some roast potatoes and assorted vegatables. Sticking to my perfect-dining routine, I tucked my serviette into my shirt collar (well some others had done the same). Helen even had hers into here dress and the others took pictures. Sauces were passed around, the typical sauces that accompanied lamb—cranberry and mint sauce. I selected some cranberry sauce and attacked my dish as the band returned, churning out another tune. Couple and individuals, dismissed their meals and were on the dance floor, swirling and twirling to the beat. As I polished off the last vegetable, I had a brainwave. Would it work?

Desert was heavenly rich—soufflé balls with chocolate cream dressed on top and more chocolate to add on. That went down and after discussing Paul, I asked one of the band members to play a “Happy Birthday” song for Rhys. We had earlier celebrated and passed him presents, but well I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to say/sing it again. “You can say you did it,” I told Paul when I returned. Somehow or the other it did work out.

Dinner was cleared and it was time for what balls are known for—dancing. Ed Sparkes came on stage and gave his minute speech as he promised on Facebook and introduced well known Latin Dancers (or was it Mambo dancers?? Again, memory is blurred). As the music sprung out and the moves began, a ring formed around them, with people standing on chairs to watch them.

I had little experience of real life Mambo/Latin dancing and the most was watching shows or movies like Dirty Dancing. It dawned upon me then that the night’s theme was so almost Dirty Dancing like, well not the moves, but the setting. (I mean Dirty Dancing the original, though I suppose Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights would also count.) Rhys went round asking if we would like more drinks from the bar. I had polished off my glass of wine but I declined. So as he and Paul trouped off, I was left to take care of the remaining drink of Paul’s.

There’s not much one can do when everyone is crowding around dancers. I stood on a chair and couple of times to watch the dance—the music was so like the first Mambo scene in Dirty Dancing—and suddenly everyone formed a snake like line and moved around the room, holding on the to shoulder of the person in front of him or her. The “snake” moved until Ed and his part of the “snake” was near me and he roped me in. Paul’s drink should be safe, I thought and I moved along, swaying with the line.

So there’s firstly music, secondly boys and thirdly girls. Oh ok, you should guess what’s next. (Actually I think this occurred earlier.) Paul asked me to ask Janet to dance with me. “Not until you move,” I commented and it would later happen that the two of them would be the first to hit the dance floor. The music wasn’t my cup of tea then, and I headed out to the gents, only to return to none other that Ritchie Valen’s Labamba. Alright, I said, singing along. It would be the first of many songs that I recognised that night—songs that moved from the 50s, to the 60s, 70s and 80s, 90s and present day. Those that I was so familiar with.

While more Latin/Mambo songs played after “Labamba”, I lined up for around twenty minutes for my traditional (in my view) rum and coke. Everyone else from my table (except Michael and his girlfriend) was on the dance floor and a 1970s number (that I can’t name) was on. What the heck I said, settling my drink down and joining the group. So it was the first time after the few clubs back home (Singapore) that I was dancing. I didn’t particularly dance with any particular girl. Our group was Paul, Rhys, Laura, Janet and Helen. Suddenly, a familiar tune came on.

Super! ABBA’s “Dancing Queen!” “Friday night’s when the nights are lone…” we all sang together and moved about. As the chorus came by, I found myself with Janet and signalled with my arms and hands to her as the line when “dancing queen, only seventeen!”. We moved smiled and laughed until another Billboard number one came on, Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5”, a classic 1980s song. Then songs played were definitely moving in chronological sequence. It was also amazing that everyone around me knew the lyrics by heart, this was certainly a far cry from NJC Prom 2003 and the nightclubs at home.

Two great songs and two great dances done, I took a breather, returning to find Paul performing an Irish Jig, much to the delight of the girls. In between that was the song “Build me up buttercup” which our whole table sang along to. Great song that came on next was “YMCA”, performed by the Village People. So Paul and I got into an impromptu dance, with him swinging him around me several times. One of my kicks, sadly struck Helen’s thigh. Ounce, I apologised but she dismissed with a smile. I felt really horrible after that and stuck to my chair.

But while I was feeling down, the music was other wise. Ok, at this stage it reverted back to the 1970s, and when you think 1970s, or ok, early 80s, it’s Grease! First up was Summer Nights, and I noticed that Rhys, Laura and I were really belting it out loud. Then came, Grease Lightin’, and you can’t sing Grease Lightin’ without the hand movements, where I made several mistakes. “You’re the one that I want! Oooh Oooh Oooh!”—yup that came along with move stationary singing.

1970s—think, think ah yes! My all time favourite band that lasted for five decades—the Bee Gees! If memory again serves me right, two of their famous disco songs were played, “Night Fever” and “Stayin’ Alive”, the latter was when Paul and I did “high fives” while sitting down. I called all our movements “Chair dancing,” which was just as invigorating as moving about on the dance floor.

I can’t remember the next part or so, more great numbers were played, our group headed to the dance floor again, only to drift back. I drifted outside again and slouched again a pillar, trying to clear my ears from all the boom. Sam Sapey (my fellow Economics and Politics mate and also a friend of the girls at the table) was with Janet and they approached me. “Was with” is not that corrected, Sam had his hand drooped around Janet. What the heck, I nearly said out loud when Janet remarked, “Are you alright? Enjoying yourself?” “Yes, a little groggy thought,” I said. That, on hindsight, wasn’t correct, my alcohol intake didn’t seem that much. Perhaps it was the dancing? Too late to continue, Sam stuck his pint of beer to my lips and gave me another lug of foamy beer. After that I found myself with Paul and a girl he picked up (as in talked to) making me say “yes” all the time. (It’s a typical Paul-me act, more on that later). I drifted and still found myself at the bar, drinking plain water instead. “Go on, talk to Janet. Tell her about Singapore,” Paul said, and returned to others. What? My mind said and then the “grogginess” came back again. On hindsight, perhaps I should have told Janet something about Singapore, like the almost non-existent beaches or something.

Quite the opposite, Janet remarked, “Singapore? Is that where they ban chewing gum?” “Uh-huh,” I said, giving her a lop-sided smile and wanting to say more, but words just didn’t form. Ok, fast forward (can’t remember much after that). Another visit to the gents and I was strolling around outside when the most familiar tune drifted into my ears.

“…But it rings and I rise,
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
My shavin' razor's cold and it stings…”

Oh no, you don’t say, I thought and rushed into to hear “Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean…” Hitting the dance floor, I found Rhys and Janet singing along. But this is a 1960s song I thought. What the heck. The three of us danced and sang along to this beautiful song which really told me how much these eighteen/nineteen year olds knew.

“Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.”

After that we were thrown back to the late 1950s with "Shout" by the Isley Brothers. Golly Gosh. This was not only a Caribbean Night, but an Oldie Night too. it couldn't have been any better for me.

Past One a.m. Despite his energy, Rhys was drunk (or became drunk). I would later surmise that part of it was an act, though it was a guess. Still as drunk as he was, that didn’t stop him and me from singing the last number, “I’ve had the time of my life,” capturing the true essence of the night/morning. Oh yeah, before that, I spotted Janet and a rather droopy eyed Sam kissing each other several times—on the lips.

It was time to leave unless we want to walk all the way back. So Sam was tipsy. With Janet in the middle, Sam and I flanked her, our arms draped around her and strolled out into the chilly air. “I’ve got nothing to fear with two economists around me,” she said.

The bus was late again. Meanwhile, drunk students lined the pavement and some belted out songs like “Any dream would do” “You are my sunshine (changed to my Birmingham)” and two boys gave a serenade of West Side Story’s “Maria.” After repeating those songs several times, I came to the conclusion that drunk peole sing much better than sober ones.

Bus ride home found me with Helen who was walking barefooted. Part of me felt guilty again for her thigh still had a small cut. Even so, she smiled and politely refused my suit when I saw her rubbing her shoulders. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said as I handed her a tissue. Behind me, the tipsy Sam and Janet were joking partly, while Rhys was in the care of Laura.

Helen and I hugged each other and said our final goodbyes (she doesn’t live at Tennis Courts) while tipsy Sam and Janet moved off to another flat. I got the door open for Laura who was so kind as to help Rhys to bed. Hugging her, Paul and I said farewell and plonked ourselves in the common area, drink just water, reflecting on the whole event. It was the best social event, the greatest formal occasion in my whole life so far and worth all the 25 pounds. It couldn’t have been done with out the efforts of the TERCA committee and band and everyone at my table and simply the whole of Tennis Courts. God Bless you guys!

Now I've had the time of my life
No I never felt like this before
Yes I swear it's the truth
and I owe it all to you
'Cause I've had the time of my life
and I owe it all to you

I've been waiting for so long
Now I've finally found someone
To stand by me
We saw the writing on the wall
As we felt this magical
Fantasy

Now with passion in our eyes
There's no way we could disguise it
Secretly
So we take each other's hand
'Cause we seem to understand
The urgency
Just remember

You're the one thing
I can't get enough of
So I'll tell you something
This could be love because

I've had the time of my life
No I never felt this way before
Yes I swear it's the truth
And I owe it all to you

With my body and soul
I want you more than you'll ever know
So we'll just let it go
Don't be afraid to lose control
Yes I know what's on your mind
When you say "Stay with me tonight."
Just remember

You're the one thing
I can't get enough of
So I'll tell you something
This could be love because

I've had the time of my life
No I never felt this way before
Yes I swear it's the truth
And I owe it all to you

'Cause I had the time of my life
And I've searched through every open door
Till I've found the truth
and I owe it all to you

I've had the time of my life
No I never felt this way before
Yes I swear it's the truth
And I owe it all to you

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