May I make my umpteenth declaration, to “never get that drunk again… who the fuck put mayonnaise in my kettle?”
What’s are some of the strangest nights you’ve had? I’ve been through some really odd times myself.
Sometimes they just fallen into my lap and I just went through them, wide eyed, not thinking that they’re strange., other I’ve times gone into them myself. It’s basically like going from the static square of normality into an open space where there’s much more possibility for memorable things to come your way.
So, to the point.
First part in a nutshell: On Thursday I was in a club, hopping through clubs semi-seriously. We were looking for a friend’s boyfriend who ditched the shackles of his mild mannered sobriety and was now a strong independent skinny white guy. I met a girl that way, asking whether she’d seen him. I left after a short discussion and a caress on the cheek.
After we’d drank up our money searching through all the clubs the friend said she was going home. I decided to do the same.
Then I realized I was sick of dating my hand and it was about time for an affair with something I didn’t have to draw eyes on.
I go up to her again, buy her some shots. She physically tells me she’s hard to get. That’s fine, I can play that game. So I sit her down an-
there’s a phone call. The boyfriends officially missing. None of his friends are with him, his phone is dead, and she was his lift. So this girl and I went looking for him again. We split up and I suggested that we exchange numbers so we can find each other again (I’m smooth that way).
(Now here’s where it gets to be a weird night) Outside a McDonalds this hobo asks me for money. I’ve got ten bucks in my wallet, which I need for parking (it’s south africa after all). Being a suave motherfucker this hobo basically intimidates/coerces/charismatically persuades me into drawing some money from a secluded atm to give him. I decide screw it I’ve got like 20 bucks in the bank anyway, and I gave it to him.
Then hobo be like “could you give me a lift?”
The place he wanted to go to is called arcadia. That place is dangerous. I’m purposefully not metaphorising here. When the 2010 fifa world cup happened in south africa places like arcadia were the reason that bullet proof vests were marketed to tourists (of course that played on exaggerated fear, but still).
So this guy asks me to take him to arcadia at 2am in the morning and I’m thinking “screw it” (once again). So we wait for the girl, we get into my car and go out of parking. It’s 25 rand instead of 10, meaning I can’t pay parking and the hobo’s helping me out here. I drive, very cautious of a shanking while He tells us about his old police job and how he’s now a snitch working at homeless shelters.
“You’re lucky I didn’t ice you with the shiv I stashed in the Mickey D’s you bought me.“
So then it was her and I. She wanted more chatting up, and I was having a good time so we decided to head on out.
Most clubs here close at 2:30. If you’re out past then, you basically have 3 viable options dropzone, not a bad time if you don’t mind dudes in shorts, popped pink collars and faux hawks. It’s not the crowd I roll with.
Also the place sucks.
There’s presleys, which is where people “sokkie” (literally means sock-y, actually means a mix of classic and squaredancing). That can be fun too, but I’ve been propositioned by two mid fifties women in all leopard print stockings.
I avoid that place.
And then there’s Shcivas. Place holds hard “night before the morning after” stories, but it’s where everybody goes when they want to party but they don’t like dropzone or presleys. Pool tables, all demographics of people not many fights, place is aight.
Nothing good happens after 2am. This place gets busy at 3.
Her and I play some foozbal,l drink some more, go outside, smoke some pot, she falls on the floor and can’t mo-
Yeah, she fell down in the middle of the road and couldn’t get up. I immediately freak out and think that she got spiked, nearly forgetting her on the road to go take it up with the bartender. She asks me to take her to the hospital, we leave her car there, some dude who beat me at foosball kicks my car and we get to the emergency ward.
I’m still really stoned at this point (good weed) I have to talk to the nurses, explain the situation, get her a cup of water, which took me 2 minutes to find with the guy behind the desk telling me “behind you, in front of you, the cups are behind you now.. Turn around”
Best part was having to phone her parents to tell them “hey you don’t know me but I’m with your daughter in the hospital”. They come along, I say I think she’s spiked, but I’m pretty much obligated to tell the doctor she smoked pot with me, while the parents are around.
I left at five AM. She’s in Mozambique right now, we still talk. She’s a cool girl. And she’s bringing me back this really awesome beer that you can’t get anywhere else. It tastes like iced tea and it gets you trashed.
So yeah, all of those potentials I was speaking of are out there if you put yourself out there. You might meet the wo/man of your dreams (or a psychopath).
But in all seriousness. Moral of the story: if the bitch aint putting out, put her in the hospital. Also get her to get you some beer.