We don't DJ

After two pints and three bar games of 'Video Match' Matt and I decided to jump on the tube and head over to meet Ryan at a place called the The Flower Pot. Ryan and James were spinning the ipod wheel there for the first time in front of more than just themselves.

Matt and I quickly came to find that the tube route we needed was closed. After returning to the pub to collect my lost scarf and grab some change, we appeared to be on the number 27 bus heading to the Pot. It was a Saturday night in the middle of London, which meant the streets were filled with crazys whom could slur us in the right direction. Three drawn out question and answers later, we were lost. Matt slapped on his cell and was told the club was just past the Pizzer Express on the left. That Pizza place didn’t exist in this part of the city.

We did eventually find the wooden ‘Welcome to the Flower Pot’ sign floating just above the surface of the sidewalk and upon entering were quickly greeted by many familiar faces…and it felt wonderful. We did the American thing and requested large ciders followed by shots of gasoline spiked well whiskey that someone over my shoulder had bought us. The current DJ was still playing which meant we hadn’t missed Ryan and his inauguration. My guess is, that it was around midnight when the Local Natives first attempt at “DJ” started to commence. Some people danced, some people didn’t, some of us stood awkwardly on stage, some didnt and some of us got a una-brow made out of blue sparkles painted on their face. For how the remainder of the night commenced, you'll have to ask someone else who was there. Cheers

Andy
Local Natives