July 12, 2007 | No Comments
As Well As Our Car Keys.
A recent Saturday night adventure we had at Panchos in Observatory, followed by Tiger Tiger in Claremont, was certainly an eventful one. Drinks and edibles were consumed, reputations and good names sullied, and car keys and self respect were lost.
Just another Saturday night in Cape Town then.
Kim and Some Other Guy get into the spirit of things, as Claus and Paul smile nervously, not knowing what to do with their arms. In the background is a guy with spectacles. Next to him is another guy, who we dubbed Patrick Swayze, an ironic moniker as he could quite honestly have been the worst dancer in the world. The photo clearly shows him doing the infamous “Running Man” dance move, an offense which would have meant instant death if this were Argentina. But this is Cape Town, so he got away with it. Don’t ever go to Argentina, Patrick Swayze – this is Cape Town – so you’ve gotten away with it.
Sometime during the course of the night, Kim got hit on by a giant bottle of Marzen Gold. She laughed it off at first, but the bottle was a persistent bugger and started being obnoxious, following her around and telling her how great they would be together. Eventually she told him they were too different, thus breaking his heart as well as the rest of his body, as he was in fact a giant bottle of Marzen Gold after all.
Claus tried kidnapping Belinda and holding her for a King’s Ransom, but was caught in the act, and so had to return her safely.
Belinda and The Girlfriend pose seductively for the camera as Some Other Guy goes and wrecks a perfectly good photograph. In the background on the left are two guys making out, a common sight at Tiger Tiger – as well as Claremont for that matter – a suburb which must surely rank as one of the most gay-friendly night spots in Cape Town today.
Some Other Guy eventually calmed down and posed for a decent pic, only to then inadvertently show just how abnormally large his head is, in comparison to that of Belinda and The Girlfriend. In layman’s terms, it’s the size of a small suburb, and may well have it’s own postal code.
After a few stiff Jamesons, Paul got lost and needed directions to the bar. A kind old woman and her cat Snuffles found him and directed him toward the Shooter Bar, where she first knocked back a few Jägermeisters with the thankful lad, then ate Snuffles, because she was so pissed. And that’s why you don’t often find too many old women at Tiger Tiger. Because after a few Jägermeisters, they always end up eating their cats.
Till next time then. Maybe.