Brighton Pier and condom balloons

Ah, Brighton Pier. A place where childhood nostalgia and absolute madness collide in the weirdest, most wonderful ways. Every time I step onto those wonky planks, it’s like walking into a fever dream—but in a good way… mostly

Let’s take a little trip down memory lane, shall we? As a kid, I used to walk the pier imagining I’d fall through the gaps in the planks like some sort of budget Indiana Jones with my brother, as if the pier had secretly turned into a funhouse of doom. Every step was like, “Is today the day? Will I plunge into the abyss?!” Spoiler: I didn’t (unfortunately), but it definitely added a bit of drama to my strolls

Then there was the food. Oh man, the iconic noodles with my dad. Nothing quite says “Brighton Pier” like slurping noodles with the wind threatening to blow half your dinner into the sea, or the vague threat of being jumped by a seagull. It’s a fond memory, though, me, Dad, and a questionable takeaway container of noodles, staring out at the horizon like we were in some sort of deep, philosophical noodle advert

Fast forward a few years, and boom, Sub Focus at Horatio’s. You what mate. That’s right, the place where I fell head over heels for DNB (drum and bass, for those not in the know ;). I remember standing there, slightly dazed, wondering how I went from childhood noodle philosophy to this. I remember going as part of the great escape festival or Vevo 6 or something, and we got some exclusive wristbands The bass was so heavy I could feel it in my teeth, but in the best way possible. Honestly, the pier has seen me in so many phases, philosopher, music lover, and, well… total idiot.

Speaking of which, let’s talk about the time I blew up a condom at the end of the pier. I’ll have to dig out that photo. Yep, that happened. There I was, slightly tipsy (okay, very tipsy), thinking, “This will be hilarious.” So I blew it up like it was a balloon at a child’s birthday party while couples around me were having their romantic, sunset moments. There’s me, with a latex balloon, thinking I’m the funniest kid person on the planet sending out condom balloons to sea. Spoiler: I wasn’t. But hey, I also nicked the shark helmet from one of those arcade machines another night, so I guess drunk me had quite the sense of adventure

But here’s the kicker the last time I was there, I was dissociating hard. I mean, hard. Walking through the lights, sounds of machines dinging, lovers holding hands, it was like I was in some parallel universe where everything was just… off. Like I was an extra in a movie that didn’t quite know what genre it wanted to be. Surreal doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was standing there thinking, “What is even happening?” while some dude was trying to win a giant teddy bear for his kid, and I’m just trying to figure out if I’m still a part of reality

Brighton Pier, man, what a place. Full of noodles, DNB, surreal dissociation, and condom balloons. I wouldn’t have it any other way

Aaron Mouland

Quit drinking on 23 July 2021 after a two-day bender and swapped bars for border crossings and 12-step meetings. Three sober years, 36 countries, 113 travellers (totally dry), fuelled by street food, jelly babies, and a broken Google Maps app. Wandersober is my journal, my SEO lab, and my mission. Featured in GQ, Mirror, Evening Standard, MarketWatch, and more.

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