Hazy recollections of a Rickshaw Run launch party

I knew from the second I entered the enclosed lawn of the palace grounds where the NYE launch party was to be held that we were in for a treat. Why? I'll tell you why - because as well as a psychedelic light up dance floor, we had a DJ rig with real flames coming out of the top. The words that came to mind were 'yeah' and 'fuck'.

As always it started slow. Runners are funny creatures and need plenty of liquid before they party properly. Once said liquid is added though they turn into strange and (sometimes) marvellous creatures - a bit like gremlins, but with less ability to sing.


One second there was nobody dancing, then (when I announced the winner of the impromptu disco dancing competition would receive a beer) before you knew it the dance floor was heaving. Some tried some great moves - leaping from each others shoulders and face planting the floor. Some other poor sod knocked himself unconscious briefly whilst attempting the caterpillar. I awarded him the prize - though he was unconscious, not moving, and bleeding heavily, so I drank it myself.

A type of chaos only rarely seen in India was then met. People were bloody everywhere. They were on the roof, on the floor, under the bar - hell, some tit was nearly asleep in the fire.

Food helped to calm them - but only a bit. The ridiculously large firework display distracted them - but not for long. As I crawled off to bed, the last thing I heard was what seemed like 49,000,000 decibels of Bollywood cheesefest coming from the speakers and a roar from the maddening crowd as somebody ripped off their clothes and ran around the dance floor with only their shredded dignity for company. I knew then it was only going to get worse. Did it? Well...that would be telling (er...and nobody can remember so we can't tell you).