One night in...

Any Other Business?

Dear All,

Anyone whose every been around knows that the buddy system is key to staying safe and sound; the same I would argue applies to nights here out on the town. Recently four amigos set sail for a party, on a night suited only for the brave and hearty.

The turning point came about the halfway mark when someone’s for a lark began ordering shots of what I believe was Maker’s Mark. At the time, eight seemed right and our seasoned crew weathered the storm naively believing everything was right. Few lessons were learned and before long a new challenge was uttered which only two of us managed to spurn. Our ambitious peers dropped two shots of tequila into their draft beers; it could only end in tears.

As the night progressed our now two very drunken friends rapidly digressed. Somewhere along the way, the Mexican restaurant closing party we were attending became very gay. Hands up in the air and more drinks on the way, it wasn’t long before our weebles were wobbling and to some of the community, now very much in play. Imagine Pride and the Special Olympics both hosting parades on the very same day. Unwittingly they danced and pranced until two more Tequilas finally drowned the partying ants in their pants…Now drunk and alone it was a surprise to many they didn’t end up home alone, with a boy named Gerome.

United they stand, divided they fall, after an hour or two more of debauchery we herded them into a taxi and finally left what had become an alternative “Fireman’s Ball”. Passing in and out on the guest house roof, there needed no further proof, that with good friends around, you’ll always somehow make it home relatively safe and sound…

Cheers,

Mw

The Boy in Blue

Any Other Business?

Dear All,

My apologies for the prolonged radio silence. It is Guy Fawkes week here and the dust has seldom settled long enough to write. On a related note, in my previous existence, the one shared emotion students and federal government employees of all ages shared in common particularly, during winter storms was hope. Hope delivered usually in the form of a radio address that our institutions were closed and our presence and coats for that matter no longer required.

Mornings here are meteorologically more predictable and therefore the pre-conditions for “hope” inevitably more complex. Hope the other day for example came in the form of a far more sinister garment than the one displayed here. A bomber man, wearing a suicide vest, was rumored to be roaming the town and our stable of jeeps and their jockeys, grounded until further notice.

The call came out on Channel 12 rather than Magic 100 but the end result was the same. Within minutes I had returned to my room and back to my most basic default setting + a pair of Calvins (sorry no photo). Lying like an astronaut in order not to quash my quaff I jumped the mooon several times and was just drifting further off into space when my peace was shattered by the muffled bang -- of a text message. The equivalent of the snow plow had made it through and my driver was waiting outside.

Unfortunately it was a case of High Ho, High Ho, and its back to work we go…

Cheers,

Mw

August 8, 2009

Any Other Business?

Dear All,

A couple of thoughts and observations worthy of only a few words…

· I have to question the appropriateness of employing a TV weather person whose exaggerated presence obscures much of the land mass he or she is alluding to. I recently missed a moment of celestial significance because of the presenter’s own “eclipse” on the world map.

· My guest house bathroom has a European toilet which features a porcelain plateau surrounded in part by a small zoo like moat. I appreciate that they may save water but do resent having to turn, face and inevitably assess my output before flushing; pretty boring sh#t usually.

· There seems to be 1 $ bills here, there and everywhere in my room. I have learned to treat them as tips I have left for myself and eventually gather them all together and head out with a wad.

· The rubber arm ends on both my office and hotel chair are ribbed, presumably for someone else’s stimulation because they are very uncomfortable.

Cheers,

Mw

The World Between the Walls

Any Other Business?

Dear All,

Present day life wherever I am, is characterized by its walls, walls that separate the tolerated from the prohibited and quite frankly our lifestyle from that of our nation’s hosts. While the establishments may vary, the one thing they all have in common is a nether world; the neither here nor there transition room that separates the two divides.

Xanadu it is not. The areas are typified by medieval like doors with sliding slots, a cot in the corner, a Kalashnikov in the other, sandbags and the disconcerting smell of shoes; either “there’s” or “ours” depending I am sure on who you ask.

On the way in, an always judgmental “Saint Peter” is present to assess you and your kind for the security threat that you may or may not be. The modern day version wields a metal detector; his more traditional counterpart simply works with his hands. The machinery is to be preferred as it is less curious particularly around the “Equator” area and more specifically within the Tropic of Capricorn. Candidature approved, a password is chanted (never “Open Sesame” unfortunately), the Pearly Gates open and you and your crew sail on through.

On the way out, the assessment shifts to your lifestyle. For obvious security reasons the two doors never open at the same time and you inevitably spend a minute or two once again with “Peter”, now simply the doorman; his attention more focused on your altered state and/or date rather than suitability, his challenge perhaps more imagined than real.

Ideally I’d like to surmise that within these common areas, two cultures could come to comprehend rather than collide but a four centimeter high door frame hurdle for many stymies a graceful exit and the inevitable conclusion that we share a planet but two very different worlds…

Cheers,

Mw