“Guys, we have all these good ideas, but then we end up just sitting around and leaving it for tomorrow…”
Loki de Jager
And so commenced the second chapter in the long-weekend saga, and what a chapter it was. Until recently, I was firmly held by the belief that the weekend of the ‘Red Dawn’ (see ‘It Has Been: A Red Dawn’) couldn’t be bettered. I was apparently wrong, as luck would have it.
I was saying to a close friend recently, very seldom does a weekend pass by and you think to yourself:
Wow… everything that I wanted to do, everything that I felt like doing, during this weekend, I got up and did. And looking back, there is nothing I could have done that could have made it ANY cooler.
Well, these kinds of weekends have been happening more and more lately; so much so, that I’m starting to think I may need to ask for forgiveness for it…
So Friday (which is to say, Thursday) started as soon as I arrived at home from work. Upon firing up the music (invaders must die!) there was a knock at the front door. Enter Mike Rainbird. We had lift-off. Slowly, people started arriving, and plans started formulating and taking shape. If you know me well, you’ll know that plans are definitely not my forte, and I prefer to leave things up to the last minute and go with the flow. And where was the flow going?
Well, after a few nail-biting games of ninja-pool (that shit really jacks me up) we decided to head on over to Me Lounge to see how loud the buzz was buzzing… This choice was – at first – a little strange for all parties involved, mostly because pretty much everyone had forgotten that Me Lounge still existed.
Fun Fact: Me lounge is situated in St. James Street, Somerset West. It was originally an old house, but has been refashioned (somewhat) to resemble a bar. A lounge? Not really. It doesn’t have one couch, so I wouldn’t call it a lounge. Also, barmen are well known for brilliant lines such as: what’s a cider? and sorry we’re too busy to make a cocktail right now… Oh, did I mention it’s a cocktail bar?
Needless to say, we didn’t stay there long. Or we may have. I’m not too sure.
We met up with Kyle, Sylvia and Clara, who were attending a birthday party or something similar, and a few drinks (bought on tab, which was a foolish idea on my behalf) and some stroh-rum shots later, my world became a lot smaller. A red Toyota to be exact. That’s right, I passed out in a car. So sue me. Oh yes, that reminds me, I also lost the entire contents of my pockets – this included: phone, wallet, money, bank card, ID, drivers, cigarettes and more. ALL of which (except the smokes, but cut a brother some slack) where recovered by soldier in arms, Loki de Jager. Not only were my belongings returned to me in perfect condition, but my tab (that I had forgotten about) had been sorted out.
Awesome. I am eternally grateful. I really HATE the department of home affairs.
So I woke up on the couch with dozens of people around me and a mouth more dry than a Kalahari virgin. I dimly acknowledged the fact that Peter Griffin had said something funny on the TV; I made to reach for a glass filled with red liquid, but was then informed that it was wine. Thanks Sylvia, good save.
Instead I walked lazily to my room, where it was to my utter delight that I stumbled upon two people, on top of each other, in my bed. I’m not going to mention names here, just to avoid embarrassment. This is the internet for God’s sake; you’ve got to be cautious as to what you write on here.
So the night ended and the morning began, and I was awoken by the sounds of people (who evidently hadn’t slept at all) playing darts by the bar. Nothing like a good game of hurl-the-sharp-object-around-while-we’re-hungover-and-possibly-still-drunk-and-have-had-no-sleep when you get up in the morning. Anyway, no eyes were lost, thank goodness.
We ended up making a breakfast mission (this means Dennis made breakfast) and playing games. Don’t judge me! I’m just doing my thing!
“I swear to God, if you guys eat my food when it’s cold I will stab you”
We then somehow ended up at Mike’s house. I think we went there to fetch something… We chilled for a while and drank apple juice and listened to old songs I’d made on super-duper surround sound (it’s the latest technology, Google it). We then stopped at Phil’s place to fetch some LMG’s.
He informed us that he was going club-jumping in Stellenbosch, distributing the Your LMG Mag and putting in good words for BHP (Band House Productions) where ever he could, so Mike and I decided to embark upon this perilous mission by his side.
It turned out fairly tame actually. One Big Mac and a Captain an Coke later, we were back at the Eiffel Tower, and ready to head off to Durbanville.
Durbanville you ask?
Well a friend had informed us of an event taking place there. A party. A party where there was a strong chance we would know no one. But as I mentioned before, we are as shapeshifters are, constantly adapting to our natural environments and blending in with the different people we encounter.
The readers of this post will never truly know what happened that night in Durbanville; and I’m fairly certain that is a good thing. I will be using codenames for certain people in this next part, to protect their reputations.
So we headed off in the car. Seated inside was: Emokid, Johnny, Edward and Dylan. Upon arriving at the party we wandered inside looking sort of lost, and proceeded to pour drinks and meet people.
Needless to say in about an hour we had taken full control of the party.
The people in Durbanville are truly a different species. This isn’t to say that’s a bad thing, in fact, quite the contrary. I had the most fun I’ve had in a while, and I’m sure Dylan, Edward and Emokid did too.
The night consisted of more than one or two random conversations (once again, no names mentioned) and a visit to a place I seem to recall was called: Blizzards.
The stay there didn’t last long. There were formidable numbers of jocks there, and jocks are known as the shapeshifter’s only natural enemies, so we vacated shortly after arriving.
We went back to the party and stayed up pretty much the entire night talking shit and almost watching movies once everyone had left.
The next morning we were politely awoken and offered coffee and breakfast. We were also offered wine. So we decided to make use of this unforeseen hospitality.
We drank our wine on the steps in the garden, whilst looking out over the view and talking of all things wonderful. One of my favorite things about being friends with the people I’m friends with, is the conversations we spark all the time. There’s never a dull moment when you’re around people like this.
“We are Power Rangers, but our powers can only work when we fight together, not when we’re flying solo like that pesky Green Ranger. He fights alone…”
So we chilled with the Durbanvillites for a little longer (going against our belief that you should never stay longer than needed in any one place) and during this time we witnessed Edward down an entire bong he found in the garden. BELIEVE IT.
After that we said our goodbyes and made away with ourselves. It was a strange feeling; saying goodbye to these people we had met less than 24hours before, but we felt we had known for far, far longer.
We will definitely be visiting Durbanville again soon.
That day, arriving back in Somerset West, we picked up Jess from Nikita’s place and made our way down to the house. By all means it seemed as if it would be a relatively relaxed last day and night of the long weekend… We were wrong, as we so often are.
Being a modern vampire is a strange thing. It’s almost like the FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) Syndrome, but a lot worse. When night time shows it’s shadowed legs on the walls, and darkness drips into the cracks in the floors, there is a smell in the air that can’t be denied. The smell of potential adventure, and the fear of missing out on a potential adventure is way too much for someone like me to handle.
So we ended up at Old Bridge. Not the most thrilling of places I will give you that, but a good place to start. The gang consisted of myself, Dennis, Lourens, Phil, Jess, Zoe and Jess.
We arrived, only to find that there was an engagement party taking place there, and of all people to be getting engaged, it was an old time friend of mine. Congratulations to Maria Gallagher and Chris Stephens. May they lead a long, happy life filled with love, children and gardening.
So the vibe was going. We had a few beers and Kyle and Clara showed up on their usual cross-town mission. Then we stumbled upon a permanent marker, and the real mayhem started. We thought it would be fun to showcase graphic designs ON each other. I ended up with a selection of different N.F.M. logos, and also a webbed left hand with the caption: “nothing to read here” included as a filler.
Now that everyone was branded, we could carry on with our night.
We met up with my sister and Cara on the way out of Old Bridge and we decided to head over to Nameless to see how the old men were doing. It’s sad you know… Nameless started out with a brilliant goal and somehow got washed underneath the waves of scum along the way.
But we still frequent the joint, in hopes that one day, it will become the premier live music venue in Somerset West as we were promised aeons ago.
It turns out it was fairly busy, but not out of this world. We had a few games of pool and returned to the Eiffel Tower to lounge around on couches and watch strange movies. Not strange as in octuple penetration, strange as in: A Series of Unfortunate Events. Gotta love Jim Carrey.
So Sunday came, and that undeniable feeling of sadness mixed with foreboding settled in, because of the inevitable work the following day, but we managed to overcome that on Sunday night when Kyle, Clara, Sylvia, Mike, Jess, Lourens and myself ventured up into the Opium Den (Attic) in the top of the Garage, and partied until late Sunday night, making plans to take over the world… Plans that may come to fruition… Tomorrow.
But right then we were just all having a good time, and I had one of the sickest guitar jam-sessions up there, controlling their emotions with the subtleties of the Drop-D drone note song.
“Kyle! Don’t leave this room! Nothing exists out there!”
Loki de Jager
All in all, what can I say? What could I possibly say to end this off on a better note than the weekend itself did? Not much, wouldn’t you agree?
Instead of trying to write some meaningful and famous quote about crazy weekends and/or life, I’m instead going to leave you with some wisdom I heard from a very close friend this weekend. Advice that will last, and that will see me through the dark. Advice, that, when broken down to this levels of simplicity, makes more logical sense than any other theory you can wave in my face. And the best thing about it is, the origin of this advice, the person who said this to me, most probably doesn’t even remember saying it. Thanks to you all.
“Nick, we can do whatever the fuck we want!”
Ian James Kay
Until next time! 😉