My second being 30 experiance

Salamu

So my adventure into 30 began on Friday night. And yes I did find out something about myself, which will be outlined throughout the post.

Trust me….you won’t be able to miss it.

It was Chris Rock who once made fun of 30 year olds going to clubs thinking that they were in their prime. “What the fuck is up with that? You’re 30….sit your ass at home and watch some football,” was what he said.  

Bearing this in mind, I accepted an invitation to Maritzburg’s most happening club “Red Door”.

My feelings towards clubs are not because of the person who extended the invitation, but because I never have been, and never will be a club person.

My reasons are quite simple and can be summerised as such:

-         I can’t dance. AT ALL

-         I am a big guy and DETEST mofo’s purposely bumping into me or shouldering me in hope that I see it as a provocation.

-         I like to pick up my women in well light areas when they don’t have half a bottle of Jose Quervo in them.

And finally…

-         I can’t dance. AT ALL

So I roll up to the door of Red Door at 10 pm after working the night shift. And I was dressed to the nines, unfortunately the crowd dressed to the fives so I stood out like a sore thumb.

I have this black button down shirt which I very partial to. It’s got the flag of Jamaica on the sleeves and JAMAICA written in big on the back just above a number 9. It is a cross border soccer shirt. The reason I am partial to it is because it is a good fit and is slightly tight around the guns (never a bad thing).

I should have known I was going to be in for a rough time when the bouncer at the door looked me in the eye and said to me: “This isn’t Jamaica MAAAN, dere aint no Reggae music here!” But I knew this because I heard the band belting out Black Sabbaths WAR PIGS on the way up the stairs to the club.

Black Sabbath - War Pigs

Powered by mp3skull.com

Inside I was greeted by a VERY darkly light area where like I said, the crowd was dressed to the fives, and everyone looked like a bunch of gothic Vikings trying to shake their brains out their heads by head banging as hard as they could.

I don’t have a problem with fat people, or fat people getting down. I am a big person myself. But there was this big guy on the dance floor, who was a few inches shorter than me, but just as big as me weight wise, jumping up and down as the band went through their songs. The bastard was jumping to so hard I thought he was going to go through the concrete floor any second!

Now bear in mind people. Im a reggae person….who listens to song about peace love and happiness. Here I am in the middle of Sleepy Hollow at a dimly light club where I am getting purposely bumped left right and centre and having to be subjected to songs about war, death and ripping children apart.

Cut a long story short, I got stood up, the invitee never arrived, and as I was walking out, the bouncer said to me: looks like you’ll never be the same again my bruda, showing me his tat of Bob Marley and a tat bearing the Lion of Ratafarianism. 

Mei jua daima kuwa kabla yenu, na vivuli nyuma yako!

Having a smoke in the room man.