Vinyl Seats

It was the height of the Cape Town summer, sweltering, especially in the confines of the white 90’s VW bus special. Piles of bodies, to the point of absurdity, fighting for whatever breath was left in the stifling interior, were crammed in without discretion. A hodgepodge of browns, blacks, empty stomachs, full stomachs, aching backs, the required bags from a special day in town, all hoping for something greater, populate every square inch of interior.  Continue reading

Incult

Incult: coarse, uncultured (Merriam-Webster)

Whit and I decided, after much deliberation and head scratching, ideas offered and retracted in the same breath, on an investigative hike on Table Mountain as the center piece of our weekend, along with, of course, our customary celebration at the Armchair upon safe arrival in town. Nothing compliments an exhausting day in the African sun like a pint of Windhoek, a habit re-enforced after taking a particularly nasty fall bull-dogging down Lion’s Head on one of our countless outings. Taking my lead from Whit, who employed the dirtiest of tricks, questioning my manhood, poking fun at the chinks in my armor where fear and concern seeped through, prodded me into a speedy decent that quickly turned chaotic and uncontrollable. It wasn’t long after our arrival at the pub that I was able to laugh at the tumble with Whit, who had been taking the piss out of me since I came limping down the trail, bleeding and swearing loudly at the absurdity of the idea. What I really needed at the time, to nurse my bruised ego, and body, back to health, was the soft, feminine touch of the fairer sex, what I got in its stead was an ice-cold glass of fix it all. Continue reading