The Empire: Tears, beers and fancy footwork as one reporter is unleashed at nightclub opening night – Teesside Live

Armed with a negative lateral flow test, wearing my glad rags and having practiced my one-two step in the mirror, I set off to one of Teesside's biggest clubs on Monday evening.

As a 23 year-old, I've had a significant portion of my clubbing career stolen by the pandemic, and so I jumped at the chance to go to The Empire in Middlesbrough for their welcome back party, on the day the government eased most coronavirus restrictions in England.

Although my introduction to Boro's clubbing scene mostly involved spectating the hedonism of others, after 16 months cooped up, I wasn't content with just being a fly on the wall.

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When I arrived at Corporation Road at 8.30pm, a huge line was already snaked around the corner of the building ready for the "sell-out" grand reopening at 9pm.

I felt slightly nervous about the whole experience, but I was told the club had taken extra steps to increase Covid safety, which included setting up new entrances and exits to minimise crowding, as well as the installation of 'Virus Killer' air filtration devices.

Veteran bouncer Brian Kennedy, who has worked at the club for the last 15 years, treated me to a whistle-stop tour of the venue, and I could sense both his apprehension and excitement about getting back to business.

Ive had two jabs, which puts me at some level of ease he told me. It's a really big moment - this will be the first time I've seen the security team since we shut in 2020."

He placed me in prime position to witness the first group of clubbers show their tickets, elatedly grab their wristbands, and hurtle to the dance floor.

One girl broke down in tears as she stepped foot under the lights, and she later told she was overwhelmed in the moment, having visited The Empire every single weekend before the pandemic took hold.

The main room began to populate quickly and while I kept my face covering on, euphoric and mask-less youngsters embraced under the cover of smoke.

It felt truly surreal to watch people singing passionately into one another's faces and to see them standing shoulder to shoulder as they sunk WKDS and alcoholic slushies at an unholy rate.

Queues soon formed five-people-deep around the bars, and owing to the pounding bass from the revamped sound-system, ordering drinks was only possible via very basic hand signals or hoarse shouting.

The Empire building, which used to be a theatre, was brimming with performers on Monday night, as the strobe lights accentuated each hair flick, twerk, finger gun and piece of fancy footwork.

And after an hour of old school classics, bottle debris began building up around the place, with bar staff working frantically to try and keep apace.

Weve got this, we'll be pushing through until 4am said new staff member Bethany Woodyatt, 22. "But Ill be coming back to have a dance when Ive got a day off.

Both she and I had to quickly relearn the art of ducking and weaving between inebriated people, which was challenging after a year of strict-one way systems and the dance floor slowly becoming a wet zone from sloshed beverages.

I found solace from the crowds in the girls bathroom, which as I hoped, was a hive of female empowerment. I was met with a flurry of people complimenting one anothers outfits, gossiping outrageously, and giving sage advice to strangers.

I spoke to 19-year-old Laura Edwards through a thick haze of deodorant-filled air, and she told me she's "staying out till close."

"Its been so long and were out celebrating a friends birthday - they've just turned 18 and they havent been able to club yet, we need to show them a good time".

Heading back into the sauna-like main room, I spotted several ingenious clubbers keeping themselves cool. One group had brought with them paper fans and were waving them in sync with the music, another girl had an electric hand-held air cooler, and one boy had simply opted for two cold cans pressed to his neck.

Due to my own sweaty discomfort, I was less than pleased when a huge figure bumped into me and put his clammy hand on my back.

He was so engrossed in a FaceTime conversation that he'd forgotten all spatial awareness, but he informed me the person on the other end was "having to isolate, and he was talking them through the night", and so I found it in my heart to forgive him.

By 11pm circus-esque performers had spilled out into all three rooms. Organised by the club, this included dancers on stilts and others adorned in glittery costumes with disco balls as heads.

Breaking myself away from the mesmerising sight, I headed to the smoking area where I was met with action worthy of a David Attenborough voice-over. Everywhere I looked there was either shameless flirtation, high-running emotions, or messy necking on.

It was there I was taken under the wing of two wonderful lasses, who in classic smoking-area fashion launched into dramatic stories about their night.

The first, had experienced a "rotten" girl in the club trying it on with her boyfriend, and the second, I quickly learnt, had recently broken up with her "cheating liar of a partner" and needed cheering up.

The pair took me for a boogie, helped me avoid a puddle of sick and also mopped me up when a hammered boy spilt his bottle of beer down my leg.

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Going to a club sober is definitely a feat of endurance, and so after the clock struck 12, I said goodbye to my new friends and slipped into the night.

As I exited the rammed dancefloor, I noticed clubbers sat at nearby bus stops having deep chats, taxis lining the street poised for business, and up ahead the golden arches of McDonalds.

"Nature is healing" I joked to myself.

My night at The Empire was definitely an entertaining and illuminating experience, and one that showed me how easily people can embrace old behaviours and seemingly forget the horrors of the past year, as well as the rising cases of coronavirus happening right now.

And although undoubtedly fun, post-lockdown clubbing did feel like a privilege given that many young people who are clinically vulnerable won't get to experience the same dancefloor-fuelled glee for some time to come.

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The Empire: Tears, beers and fancy footwork as one reporter is unleashed at nightclub opening night - Teesside Live