I should have known better. Those weekends that you think will be quiet and focussed, with perhaps one small outing to keep you from climbing the walls with tequila-deprived anxiety, very seldom turn out that way. Not for me anyway ...
Friday work drinks was welcomed with open arms as thanks to numerous public holidays we hadn't had one for ages. I reckon if they had've cancelled it again, there would have been mutiny. But they knew better and no-one was scampering down to the "free drinks bar" faster than yours truly. A few drinks later and I was whole-heartedly agreeing to go to the Red Ox for a tequila. Then I went half way across the country to Milnerton and had a fat party with The Tonester, Reckless Freckles and a dude who used to be a heroin addict. We had an absolute blast and at some point were joined by The Swede and The Zulu. Friday ended for me when birds across the land were waking from their good night's sleep and about to start their day.
The next day I checked my phone and it turns out I was sending text messages that went something like this:
8.20pm: "Wassuuup! Am at Red Fox. I am the red fox. No. I am the fox."
8.30pm: "Ooops. Turns out I am at the Red Ox. Which makes me an ox. Pfft. I prefer fox."
10.05pm: "Sometimes you think wtf? And then you just go with it."
10.30pm: "Mumford. They even on DMX. Like Jesus n Christ."
In future will someone please take my phone away from me the minute I hit my first Savanna. If you miss that boat, wrestle it from me after the first tequila.
Most of Saturday was naturally spent in bed recovering, apart from a small visit for tea by Vuvuzella. Who was also feeling a tad rough after having a party at Mom Friend's house the night before. A party I was supposed to be at. Ooops! But seemingly I was not missed too much and they still had some gin left over the next day (which of course would not have been the case if I was there). Sometimes it pays not to have me at your parties.
Then it was off to the rugby at Newlands which I was extremely excited about. Not only was I going to my very first big "sold out" match, I was also going to be watching some fine young men from New Zealand running around the field sporting tattoos and hot bods. It was a bit disappointing that Dan Carter was not going to be making an appearance, but Sonny Bill was a fine replacement for the day. First stop was the beer tent where I had a much needed stabliser and then into the stadium we filed. We had the R50 standing tickets (that's what happens when you leave it to the last minute) and seemingly so did half the nation. But we managed to get inside in good time and found an excellent spot. We could see the field clearly and The Crusaders were warming up right in front of me. Not bad for the cheap seats! The teams ran on and within minutes my team scored their first try. Right in front of me. Bonus! I was delirious... the rest of the Stormers-supporting stand was not so delirious. Anyhoo, this sounds like a fairytale doesn't it. All sweet, civilised and mushy. Except it turns into a rotten little Grimms fairytale quite smartly.
About 15 minutes into the game, there was much pushing and shoving and before anyone (except me) could say "WP jou lekker ding", we were surrounded by the Papsak and Gangrene Brigade. It seems the seats were so cheap that even the bergies could afford them. Or perhaps they just let them in, who knows. What I do know is that apart from reeking of the week's wine intake, the one with a bandage on his foot is going to lose that foot by the end of the week. The smell of rotting flesh (told you, grimmmmm) was enough to have me almost gagging and I even saw his pals wrinkle their noses occassionally. It also turned out that the P&G Brigade were staunch Stormers fans and after their arrival their team scored a few points ... so there was much clapping and hugging and singing and waving of flags. They also decided to involve everyone else in the celebration. Including me.
Ten minutes before half time we decided that gangrene feet and stale wine make for bad rugby viewing and went to the beer tent. On the way out we were told that there were no pass outs. Considering we had almost passed out there was no bloody way we would be going back. But the beer tent was a rocking affair where you didn't have to queue for beer and you could get boerie rolls and pizza's for supper. There were big screens so I could really feast my eyes on Sonny Bill up close and we even had a Stormers slut doing a striptease. All very entertaining and worth the R50 ticket... which we needn't have even had.
I had a grand time at the rugby and will always be able to say that I got poked by a Stormers flag and got hugged by bergies at my very first big game! Just a pity I never managed to get us all on telly ...
Sounds like a virginal experience of note!
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