When do you know when it’s time to leave the pub and go home. Straight home. Don’t even stop at robots or look behind you. When the guy standing next to you at the bar, who has the coldest eyes and harshest look turns to you and says, “I’m a murderer. And I take it very seriously. I don't F*ck around”.
My friend walks up to me, hands me my bag, while I am wrapping some stranger in meters of red material to make him look like a giant bow for his boyfriend’s birthday, and she says “We’re leaving”.
Huh? Why? What? It’s only 1am & I’m boozed & enjoying myself.
She explains to me what Psycho had just said to her. I’d already made an earlier duck from him cause he was angry with me for not complimenting the non-existent sketches in his drawing book that he was toting about.
We dragged Third Friend away from Psycho, who was now quietly reprimanding her for breaking the strap of his bag. And we made a noisy exit.
Any & all types can be found in Melville, I guess! Even at 1am on a Friday morning after a fancy charity event of the Long Long Table.
Thanks Starfish Foundation! About 1500 patrons along 7th Avenue. Our table alone paid up R6000.00, with 50% going to the Foundation.
We’ll see you at the next one!! ...dressed up much better this time than just a few stars stuck to my face. Excellent vibe, decent food over several hours, pretty pretty lights across the entire length of the street, and all behaviour remaining civilized. Well, until someone walked past me with a vase of roses and his waiter passed me carrying 10 metres of red ribbon…
I think I did quite a good job on the bow though….