A while back I paid 21 000 Rand (about $3 000) to have a beer with a lesbian. During that weekend, I was in a near plane crash, climbed Table Mountain, lost all my cash for contraband I didn’t want, slept on the floor of an empty house, and worst of all was marooned in a sea of advertising people with egos bigger than Mussolini.
I’m not going to put the rest in a linear narrative, but here are some fragments:
Heaven in a Tank Top
I met her on a long weekend in a remote village in the Western Cape. Short spiky hair, flinty blue eyes and a naughty smile. She looked like Ladytron sounds: hard digital-sinewed metallic beats, skyscraper vertigo, and blurring motorcycle speed. Long legs and sinewy, strong arms carved out of wood. We agreed to meet up in Cape Town some time.
A R9 000 Excuse to Meet Up
I called her weeks later, and blurted that I was coming to Cape Town. “What for?” she asked. “The…uh… (I racked my brain for a reason)… Design Indaba! That’s it! The Design Indaba!” I shrieked like a game show contestant. I was making a silly amount of money at the time, so the R9k for flights, car, hotel and seminar didn’t seem too bad.
One minute out of Joburg, a very bad buzzing noise started, so loud it made my fillings ache. A sound of screeching of stripping gears and a metallic burning smell enveloped the cabin. The plane floundered in the air like a drowning swimmer. We swung round and landed with a jaw-jarring thump. I cracked three teeth which later paid for half my dentist’s daughter’s varsity tuition. The plane barrelled down the runway, flanked by red flashing fire engines. We stopped, got out, and I fell to my knees on terra firma and kissed the tarmac like the Pope.
Another flight, another plane, I landed in Cape Town. Called Lesbian, left message.
Lots of shit happened, including: snafu hotel booking that left me sleeping on floor of empty “for sale” house; lending Guy R1 000 for a deal which derailed and almost got him arrested; sneaking out of shit seminar sardined with Prada-clad advertising wankers, to climb the mountain; called the Lesbian, left a message; dined at most expensive restaurant in Southern Hemisphere, it would seem; called the Lesbian, still no reply.
Last day in town. Call Lesbian. Finally get through! She’s in… Namibia, but promises to meet up next time I'm in Cape Town.