This article is satirical and should not be taken as defamatory, nor does it reflect any political stance of the Oxford Student.
May Day celebrations start not with singing church boys, but with joining the Atik queue. It was longer than that of Spirit and Thirst, but no one was inside either of them so it’s not really a fair comparison. Behind me came a circus of puffers, and within those black and navy coats stood inebriated folk from my college forgetting who they usually speak to. We spoke about our hopes and fears, both concerned making it through to 5am, before passing through Atik’s airport of security checks.
The lights went green and I was handed my goods by a man surprisingly happy for 1am. I was then told to go inside by someone less content. To be fair, Oxford students on a night out may resemble puppies leaving a pen, ready to climb all over the furniture. After all, searching Does Oxford have a good student life begets “If you study here, you will receive a great education – something which lasts a lifetime.” A simple “no” would have been quicker. Here’s to the staff who had to endure this for two hours longer, and on the Lord’s day.
With a stamp secured, we filtered into the bottom floor. The cheesy floor, named after its smell. We larped as sardines sizzling to Carly Rae Jepsen. My group did, at least, whilst the one next to ours pretended it was a trampoline park – bouncing like kids do on a mattress. Unimpressed with jump nation, we went for our first drink. Not sure if maybe I have been confined to the pen for too long, but the ‘new’ glasses were an immediate win – until the Jägers were ordered, which were just mixed.
We then headed for my personal favourite: the hip hop room. My friends aren’t undercover enough to listen to Snoop Dogg, so we swiftly went to the pink “TikTok” room with its accompanying bingo caller. Shout out to whoever let that DJ practice his counting over the microphone, hoping he gets past three next week. This supplemented a non-vape-induced fog and pink flower illuminations: the universal symbol of May. I was there appreciating the design of the event, which speaks as to why, if my night was a movie, the rating would be U.
The music was interrupted by an alarm. “Evacuate the building”, I thought I heard. Needing to write this piece, I was ready to save myself. So, as with Parliament, we said no more to TikTok and headed for the corridor. There, we were the only people concerned. The stairs revealed no sign of movement on the cheesy floor. Perhaps it was an April fools one month too late, or perhaps it was just part of the song. I am still unsure but, with security that lip-synch to all the songs, it was hard to truly know. We traded safety with tequila, and headed back downstairs.
A May-Day special was heightened CCTV. Reports say that plants were hired to film people sing what they really really want, and who they wanna dance with. Phones were out, and they grew like Gremlins. Apologies to the seven iPhones lenses I looked at for a second too long. Go back, check your footage. Maybe I am there trying to turn your phone into stone. But, in my defence, this isn’t the Oxford people want to see on your socials. It’s not like the dining scenes in Harry Potter. It’s more like the ones with the dementors, with that role being taken by third years trying to suck the youth out of freshers.
We side-stepped to Shakira past three am but, as this is usually closing time, my feet and soul started to tire. People around me were retreating from 4, but I knew that I hadn’t gone this long without my retainer to call it quits. Not on a bank holiday, celebrating the working class, trade unions and other themes close to Oxford’s heart. I made it to 5am because I respect to the workers, since someone needs to. My hopes had come to fruition and I was finally ready for the church bells, street-dancing and, most of all, my bed.
Image Credit: Maurício Mascaro.
Image Description: People dancing inside a nightclub.