If your anything like me and remain silent in your civil pride and national unity (shown only when international sporting events come rolling around), then you probably also share my contempt and slothful scorn at the gloss (or lack thereof) of Durban’s night life. But every once in a blue-filled moon there comes along a sniff of activity that succeeds in wetting your appetite enough to leave your computer screens and brave the icy Durban streets to actually “go-out”. Ceremonially you gather your merry making band of brothers , you make that pre-club run to procure your choice of contraband for the night from the nearest pharmacist/horticulturist/beverage retailer, and consult over who had the eye drops last. I consider myself fairly flexible when the laws of Murphy decide to take a dump on my clubbing experience,but there's one thing that bemoans me to no end. Its not long lines, dress codes,Nationalist Party bouncers, policeman looking for there next meal ticket, or even entry price inflation....its YOU.....
…you belligerent party goers who CANT HANDLE YOUR SHIT and make me wish I was back home streaming eastern European “documentaries”…
Now before you berate me for killing your buzz, be assured I'm no hypocrite. You cannot even imagine the immensity of the f@#$ i do not give on what you do with your time and resources. Whether your poison of choice be bumping rails off an ass crack, toking the reefer, or simple alcoholic pleasure…but all l ask…no plead…is that you HANDLE YOUR SHIT...What makes you think that anyone wants to know what you had for lunch, leave alone clean it off their shoes.No one wants to see your grown ass projecting fluids in pot plants,over balconies, or on my new paint job..
The age restriction put on club entry is not a legal institution, it’s a social one, because by the age of 21 you are expected to know how to handle yourself with some semblance of dignity in public. I know I'm no Black Swan stumbling off the Origin steps at 4 in the morning, but I'm not tripping over asses and elbows hugging toilet bowls at 11:30. Like many things in life by the time we reach the age of 18, we have already learnt life most important lessons. Don’t drink on an empty stomach,don’t mix your spirits, and don’t be a hero. And yet you would expect to see Jeff Probst behind the bar judging survivors out drink themselves in an immunity challenge to see who can pass out first….HANDLE YOUR SHIT…
Those who share my self confession of being an EDM and trance music addict will no doubt liken the many international headlining acts which have graced our shores (shameless plug for Love-Tec Entertainment) as nothing less than religious experiences akin to the likes of a Man United fan going to watch a Liverpool fixture at Old Trafford. But unlike those Liverpool fans brawling in minority district pubs, I don’t want to have to stare down petrol breathe brown people on the main floor screaming indecencies at me cause I'm allegedly “snying his stekkie”. I know girls just wanna have fun and god knows we love watching you have it, but ladies please, there's nothing more unattractive than a saucy spinster flaunting her vintage wears all over the nearest shiny surface....HANDLE YOUR SHIT…
Which brings me to the poppers and droppers and general tripped-out party goers. What's with the sunglasses on the dance floor? Do you fail to realise that in doing such you only attempt to draw attention to your jaw grinding revelry which would otherwise only be deduced with direct eye contact that people in clubs rarely make. In the same way that selling bottles in brown bags at liquor stores is supposed to somehow make everyone oblivious to your purchases. Why not walk out of Adult World in Overport in peak traffic hour. And when your drooling over yourself in a epileptic fit , cause you took one two many bathtub Panados, remember when I told you to ...HANDLE YOUR SHIT…
What is about our minorities that bring domestic violence to any social event. Why cant we all just get along. We all came off the boat, fought the British, and caught snoek in the Cape together. There always has to be some roid raged mofo whose watched his bargain bin copy of Fight Club one two many times and needs to go Ed Norton on everyone's ass to feel like something of a man. Why don’t you go be a father to those 3 kids you fostered in Sydenham and…..HANDLE YOUR SHIT….
Slam those tequilas, pound those shots, and by all means proposition your favourite blogger with sexual favours whose chugging Smirnoff down the bar. Get down, get dirty.Kiss that girl and like it. Smack it, roll, chop it, smoke it, pop it, shoot it...have a good time…but for f*#$ sakes..…HANDLE YOUR SHIT…
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Epilogue:
Many a night of debauchery night has spawned drunken dialogues and quotes like
“ Bru you tipsy?……NO!...I'm not tipsy...I'm drunk”...
“ I’ll stop drinking when Captain Morgan puts his leg down!”…
But I’ll leave you with a particular transcript of a soliloquy from someone who we’ll call Rosencrantz.We pick up the action a pocket full of bottle caps later ;
“You know what i'm talking about…you have to maintain..you maintain…You find out what's good..what's what's good for you…and then you maintain it…that’s the problem with these f#$&*! lighties in the club…these f#$&*# lighties throwing up in the streets…they peak…you know what the problem is..they peak too early..see them at 1 in the morning throwing up on the pavement…that’s not how you f#$&*# party!...but you maintain…you don’t push yourself so much…just maintain..you get luka...and you maintain it throughout the night..these f#$&*# lighties…what are they listening to in the jol anyway?..T-Pain and David Guetta?...T-Pain T-pain…everyone teaming up with T-pain”….
Solid piece of writing.... !! You really capture the imagary in a highly unique fashion :-)
ReplyDeleteHilarious but captivating.
ReplyDeleteAgreed with Mikey's comment...
Thanks for the mention of Love-Tec and thank you for the continued support at all the events!
Rosencrantz is my hero.
ReplyDelete