The Hive also known as “Hive.” Niddry Street. Edinburgh.
For many typical dweebs like myself, Hive is the land of dreams. A place where you can release your inner belter any day of the week without being judged. There are many walks of life which you will encounter if you dare to enter Hive. There are “The Usuals”; the folk who take Hiving as a very serious hobby, journeying to their home from home no matter the day, month, year, occasion etc. Then there are the “First-Timers”; those who have heard about the wonders of Hive and want to see what all the fuss is about. This can go either of two ways. They can walk out, never to return, disgusted at the overwhelming smell of sweat and dignity which is long gone. Or they can be pleasantly surprised at what a phenomenal night they had. There are also the people who are somewhat normal, crossing the threshold simply because their wallets cannot stretch as far as George Street. This usually applies to most of the Hivers you’ll meet.
However, the first mission is actually being allowed in to Hive. Being “KB’d” is very dangerous territory with many poor souls having their own (or more commonly someone else’s) ID swiped from their very hands. Approaching a bouncer with your horrendously ugly passport photo is, within itself, not an easy task and many troops begin to panic at this point, sweating profusely. Side note, try not to get thrown out before twelve pm, you’ll miss all the prime belter-spotting opportunities.
A tip for those who would rather prevent embarrassment and humiliation the next morning is A V O I D participating in any of Hive’s photographs. You don’t want to end up like that one gal, infamous for having hamsters as armpits, circulating round the whole of Scotland’s Facebook profiles. Or, if you’re a female, you could just shave your underarms like any other normal human being of the same gender.
Hive has strong competition with The Cavendish, more commonly known as “Cav.” Unfortunately, unlike Cav, there is no Hive cheesy dancefloor to my knowledge. But on the plus side, you don’t have to wear heels which means you can have a really good dance, jig or run. Whatever you like. Another colossal benefit of choosing Hive as your destination is Mary. Mary, the female toilet attendant, loves a good old boogie in the toilets with you and her broom. Armed with a wide variety of Chupa Chups, toilet roll, makeup and deodorant, she’s everything a girl needs on a night out.
I’ve had many odd experiences myself within Hive. Being offered a job by a perfect stranger whilst waiting in the queue for the girls’ toilets and meeting a young man named “Bean” have been a few of my favourites. The moral of the story is, unless you go to Hive you can’t even begin to imagine how hilarious it is. If you make the conscious decision to embark on that adventure, you’re bound to meet at least one unforgettable belter. You might even turn into one yourself.