256 Wilmslow Road, The Mezzanine

Honestly, last night was awful (Saturday 22nd at around 1am). I went out with some friends, had a couple of drinks, and we decided to go to 256. Everything seemed fine—we waited in line like everyone else. But then the bouncer asked for my ID, so I gave him my Spanish one. The second he saw it, he immediately said, “You can’t come in, you’re drunk.” Just like that. No questions, no actual check, just straight-up denied me. I tried to explain that I’d only had a couple of drinks and was totally fine, but he wasn’t having any of it. His attitude turned aggressive, and he told me to step away from the queue. And let me be clear: I was completely aware of what was happening. I wasn’t stumbling and I was in full control of myself. I understood everything that was going on, and I knew that I was being treated unfairly. To be accused of being too drunk felt like an excuse to turn me away for another reason entirely. At that point, I started getting nervous. I could feel the stress kicking in, and since English isn’t my first language, I struggled to get my words out properly. One of my friends saw what was going on and came over to help. We tried talking to another bouncer, hoping for some common sense, but he just shrugged and said the first guy was his “manager” and he couldn’t do anything about it. Then my friend brought up something we were both thinking but didn’t want to say out loud: “Are you not letting him in because he’s Spanish?” The bouncer got uncomfortable and denied it, but it was pretty obvious something wasn’t right. That’s when things got even worse. The first bouncer—the “manager”—stormed over, shouted at me, and physically shoved me away from the entrance. I wasn’t being aggressive; I wasn’t causing any problems—I was just trying to talk. But instead of treating me with even the slightest bit of respect, he PUSHED me out like I was nothing. I wasn’t even raising my voice. I was just standing there, trying to have a conversation. But he treated me like I was a problem, like I didn’t belong, like I wasn’t welcome. I was furious. My friend left the club immediately to check on me, but I just felt so frustrated and helpless. At that moment, I felt completely humiliated. Not just because I was being pushed around for no reason, but because it was so clear that I wasn’t being seen as just another person on a night out—I was an outsider. A foreigner. Someone who, in their eyes, didn’t belong there. I think they will never understand the struggle to live in a place that is not home with a language that is not yours, and how hard it can be to get your message across in a stressful situation. Manchester prides itself on being a welcoming city, but moments like this prove that’s not always the case. Would definitely not recommend this place—especially if you’re not from the UK. I wish I could rate 0 stars