“In the wild kingdom you don’t live till you’re ready to die.” – Every Time I Die.
What is left to say that probably hasn’t been muttered under your breath or seen on the social media platforms by now? I woke up on my couch, my white shirt that played a considerable part in my pirate costume caked in dirt and spillages. My WhatsApp infested by blue ticks from all the messages I sent at 2am which can’t be undone or unseen. A can of Windhoek Lager next to me which I got from four random guys who were busy listening to AKA and Desiigner while we were waiting for our Uber driver and were amazed that I knew the lyrics to the sounds blaring out the boot of their Toyota.
It’s safe to say that while I’m typing this at 8:14 on a Sunday morning that I am still drunk.
I attended Arcade’s Halloween party. I’m not here to review the bands and the event itself. Because you’ll be asking the wrong person. At times I almost felt overwhelmed. It was kind of like how you feel at Oppikoppi or an equally big festival sometimes. There was just too much happening all the time, but this time everything was compacted into just one evening. I arrived late with my buddy Simeon. Well, compared to the other attendees, if you consider that the gates opened at about 3pm and we only walked at 7.30pm.
Desperately we had to play catch-up because of how sober we were compared to all other attendees. The bars were packed. You always order double or triple your original order at times like these. You don’t stand in line for 10 minutes to order a beer which you finish in five minutes due to the almost unbearable heat just to stand in line again. We also came up with the worst fucking drinking game on earth where you have to take a shot every time you see someone dressed as the Joker or Harley Quinn. In a distance of about 30 meters, we had already drunk three shots each.
We settled on two.
Of which I just drank one.
Because it was tequila and I am not man enough. Taking a second shot would just have made me vomit. And talking about ejecting matter from the stomach through the mouth; into the second song of Art Snakes, my friend casually notified me that the girl next to me threw up and painted the floor with her youthful exuberance. Her friend’s maternal instincts kicked in and held her in her arms against her chest, telling her that everything would be okay while brushing the hair out of her face. Five minutes later, like a true legend, she shrugged it off and partied on.
I also luckily bumped into some fellow Fuss thespians. People I have not seen for ages like the gorgeous Lize who walked around and captured moments of the proceedings. There is honestly no point to this post. This isn’t a shout out to any band because honestly I didn’t watch one set in its entirety. Even though I was extremely impressed by the whole layout of the gig and how everything ran, this isn’t a shout out to the organisers either.
This one is for the people who showed up. The Wednesday Adams’, the cowboys, the Where’s Waldos, the nurses and doctors, the obnoxious sims people who took up a quarter of the bar at a time, the witches, the vampires, the vikings, the zombies, the sex kittens, the Adventure Timers, the girl who dressed up as noodle from the Gorillaz, and all the rest. This one goes out to all of you. You guys made this event what it was. A fucking outstanding evening of drunken debauchery and dancing in disguise. Halloween is my favourite day of the year. And I will see you again next year. And the year after that. Until I eventually die of heat exhaustion.
