Relatable LOLs: CP Clubbing Edition

Most of us like to dip our hands, knees, wheels and toes into the nightclub scene when we turn 18. Hitting the clubs and grabbing a few drinks is as much of a natural progression into becoming a young adult as it is getting your driver's license. But when you live with cerebral palsy, even if you do manage to hail an Uber assist and safely get through the crowds without tripping, things don’t always go to plan. Here are three stories from my clubbing days that illustrate the deeply relatable question: Should it really be this hard to get a beer?

Episode 1: How to get a discounted beer 

I was so stone cold sober on a night out in Auckland, I would have passed a breath test with flying colours. I was catching up with mates at a bar in the Viaduct. I arrived a little early with one friend to an Irish bar. I went up to the bar to grab the first round of drinks, but before I could get a word in, the bartender called out: “I’m afraid I won’t be serving you anything this evening.” “Why is that?” I asked. “You’ve had enough to drink!” He replied. 

Old mate was confusing my CP wobble with a drunken wobble, so I pulled out the trusty CP ID card. “I’m sorry mate,” he replied, looking guilty. “Would you like a discount on your beer?” 

Episode 2: The Suspected Drug Mule 

A few years ago, I was delighted to have been mistaken for a drug mule on a casual night out in Auckland, while queuing at a popular Auckland bar on Queen Street with friends. We waited for more than 30 minutes just to get to the front of the queue. I managed to pass the standard ID and ‘disability ID’ check with the bouncer. I then returned my ID cards to my wallet, but as I did this something shiny in my wallet caught the bouncer’s eye. 

The bouncer called over his colleague. I was then asked if I could hand over this shiny, suspicious item. I knew right away what the item resembled to them and handed over a little plastic bag. It looked exactly like the kinda baggie you might use to keep drugs in. 

Bouncer number one, thought he was about to catch his very first CP drug mule… He opened the ‘baggie’ and revealed my stash of Cerebral Palsy Society of New Zealand taxi vouchers. No drugs on me, I just needed a safe ride home! 

Episode 3: The stag do that turned doo-doo

I was in my getaway car after successfully kidnapping my brother from a farm. He was blind folded, with his hands tied. He had no clue that we were off to Wellington for his stag do. I was so pumped for the weekend - I had booked accommodation, dinner, the driving range, sorted his costume and saved a list of bars we were to visit. Silly me for thinking it should be so easy!

I had 11 bars on my list; I wasn’t allowed into seven of them. As if it wasn’t challenging enough to convince the bar staff to let in a rowdy group of guys on a stag do, seven times the bar staff refused to serve me a drink or barred me from entering because I looked drunk. 

This night was meant to be about my twin brother Edward getting hitched and all the fun activities I had planned to celebrate it! But it turned into a night of playing a game of: ‘Which bar in Wellington wouldn’t discriminate against George’. We had a 36% success rate.

We all have the right to have a few drinks. And while we wait for the world to catch up and ditch their ableism, what choice do we have but to laugh away our sorrows, eh? Because people sure seem to be making it difficult for us to drink them away.

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