The Nightclub Experience That Shattered My Views on Partying

I still remember the night when I went to a Greek-themed nightclub in North Goa, India. The reason was simple — to celebrate my son’s birthday and have a great time together.

We entered the nightclub and sat to our assigned table. The atmosphere was vibrant and illuminated by flashy disco lights. The DJ in the house was playing peppy and thumping music, just as you would expect from any nightclub.

We started enjoying our mocktails and food when the first crowd-pulling activity began. Two Russian dancers appeared on stage and started gyrating energetically to famous Bollywood songs.

Within moments, people left their tables in a rush and ran toward the stage. It seemed like there was a fight for a spot closest to the dancers.

I could understand that. We Indians love Russians.

Coming back to the dancers, they were passionate, their moves were suggestive, and their energy was infectious. The crowd mirrored their energy — dancing, hooting, ogling — losing themselves in the performance.

As that act ended, a lady from the bar announced the next attraction: a belly dance performance by another Russian artist. And again, the crowd started gathering around them. The same dancing, the same hooting, the same eager eyes — only louder this time.

The belly dancer moved sensuously to the beats, and the excitement among the crowd grew feverish. Then came the Emcee’s announcement — she invited men to dance on the tables with the belly dancer.

But there was a catch. They had to tip her not by handing over the money normally, but by holding one end of the note in their mouth while the dancer picked the other end with hers.

I was watching all this unfold from a distance with my family. They might enjoying all these activities, but I was not. I felt something inside me prfoundly off. I was feeling a sense of disconnection. Like, I didn’t belong to this place, or perhaps to this way of being.

I told my family that I was going back to our table and they could come whenever they liked.

On returning back to my table, I began observing the people around me more closely. Nearby a group of young women sat together. Each one was busy on her phone, scrolling mindlessly or glancing around distractedly. There were only occasional exchange of smiles and words.

It felt as if they were together just for the sake of being seen together. I doubted that they found any real joy in each other’s company. No jokes. No heartwarming conversations. No genuine interest.

I looked around further. Many people were doing the same. Groups of friends, couples, even families — all physically present but emotionally absent. There were only some exceptions who were really together.

Then there were the children. Some parents brought young kids into this chaotic and overwhelming environment. Were their parents unaware that these little ones had sensitive ears? Didn’t they think even once how the deafening music could damage their ears?

And what about exposing these kids to an adult-themed atmosphere? They were inhaling cigarettes and hookahs’ smoke. They were observing adults getting drunk. They were watching vulgar dances and witnessing wild adult behavior.

How would it impact their tender minds? What kind of seeds were being implanted in their impressionable brains? Did these kids ask their parents for such atmospheres?

But who cared? This is a world where entertainment has become the highest priority. So why would anyone think about children’s mental and physical well-being.

After a while, I wandered back toward the stage to check on my family.

The nightclub wasn’t done yet. It had another act ready to keep the crowd hooked. A sculpted male dancer dressed in Arabian attire came onto the stage. He started gyrating to loud beats. This time, it was the women’s turn to run toward him. They gathered eagerly, hooting and ogling, mirroring the earlier frenzy.

Then the performer took a rose from the nearby box and started dancing with it. He was rubbing the rose suggestively against his sweaty body before throwing them into the crowd. He kept throwing roses one by one.

Women jumped and scrambled to grab the sweat-laden roses. Whoever got them were looking quite happy as if they had received some grand prize.

Later, when invited, women tipped him the same way — by holding money in their mouths. Would these same women have accepted a sweaty rose from a street performer under an ordinary sky? Would they tip someone using their mouths? I doubted it. They would feel disgusted like me and my family were feeling.

But here, intoxicated by the crowd’s madness, they acted without a second thought. They were being swept away by a collective hysteria disguised as fun. They were a victim of the crowd mentality.

I thought that would be the last act. But no. But no, the night had one more absurdity in store.

A woman Emcee announced that they would throw some breakable lightweight small plates toward the crowd. People were required to catch them and when the Emcee would announce, they would throw the plates on the ground.

The Emcee announced that lightweight, breakable plates would be thrown into the crowd. Whoever caught a plate would be given the chance to smash it later on the Emcee’s command.

And as plates were thrown, people jumped over each other. They were desperate to catch them. Their faces light up as with this prized possession. Then, at the end of a loud countdown, people who had the plates hurled them onto the ground with ferocity. They were smashing them into pieces. And the way they were hooting and cheering, it was deafening.

What kind of joy was this?

It felt primal — feeding something wild, something buried deep beneath the layers of “civilized” behavior. Educated-looking people were behaving like wild animals.

And for a moment, as I was standing there, I too felt like an animal. I was caught in a strange frenzy I did not belong to.

Me and my family had the similar feelings. We were not liking the Social Experience (SX) and it felt like we were questioning ourselves:

Why were we there?

Why had we allowed ourselves to become part of this madness, even for a moment?

Was it to celebrate a birthday? Was it to feel alive? Or were we, like everyone else, simply swept along by a society that confuses stimulation for joy, noise for connection, and crowd hysteria for celebration?

That night, something changed quietly inside me.

A part of me realized that I did not belong to places like this anymore — if I ever truly did. And maybe, just maybe, it was not me who was missing out.

Maybe it was the world that had forgotten what real celebration, real connection, and real happiness looked like.

Note: It’s my personal experience and opinion. I felt that way. I am not against all forms of partying. I am against mindless partying. Consumerism-oriented partying. Parties where discos, bars, and nightclubs are ready to fleece you. These places lure you in the name of experiences, themes, and events. I haven’t visited such a place yet since that night.

But it is my take. If you still love such parties and can enjoy togetherness in those moments, have fun!