For People On The Move

Cause I am a trusting sort of gal. And cause I like to cause shite. And well, cause as of December 1st I realised I officially have AIDS Work fatigue for the rest of 2006 & so I take my time getting to the office… I woke up this morning (in Siberia apparently! WTF happened last night. Did our little globe spin 180 degrees once I started to snoooze. Fall asleep in summer, wake up at midnight shivering & sobbing a little from extreme cold!) & thought, I am going to take the most direct route to work. The route that just so happens to pass through the pumping centre of Rosebank Gautrain chaos as of 00:00 last night.

As I said, I am trusting. I decided to TRUST the Gautrain organisers. I watched them over the last while cut all my gorgeous trees down. Paint brand new spanking white lines to direct traffic along the one-ways-to-be. Put up robots on Sunday morning, all in preparation for today. Over the past few months, I’ve been handed countless pamphlets, received newsletters & read 1001 articles on how things are gonna change in these here parts – to prep me & my nerves. Surely they know what they are doing. Surely it just might all go according to THEIR plans. Surely with half of Jozi out of town, Oxford Road now acting as a one-way will not take half the morning to get down. I had to find out for myself. Be an eye witness to this gamble.

I had a cup of coffee at home, just in case what was to be expected, expectedly arrived.

Half an hour into my experiment & not even 4 blocks along Oxford! I had my feet up on my dashboard, chilling, missing the weekly Monday morning office meeting. I was flicking between Gareth discovering not all S.A. girls wear panties, & Jeremy’s Christmas Wish, and I was sms’ing friends. Good times. Good C H A O T I C times!! This is gonna be one fun 3-and-a-half years!!

Me and the lady in the car to my right at one point had a joint chuckle. While the guy to my left in his beetle just had a joint.

It was when we got to Oxford/ Baker that true chaos ensued. The brand spanking new white lines might direct traffic beautifully. This would be if the amount of traffic joining up at such a intersection was like Pofaddersrus’ main road meeting its 1st Avenue. At midnight. On a Sunday. One truck started to hoot at one guy, asking him to move the f*ck out of the way. The guy started gesturing, “Sure buddy! WHERE??? I am in the middle of 8 lanes of directionless traffic!!!” …. I continued to chill (literally. Come back summer!! I still love you!!) & wondered how the guy in the beetle had gotten so far away. I could use some of what he was having.

The Gautrain motto apparently is “For People On The Move”. Enough said about what I think about the whole situation.

Over half a bluddy hour to move along 4 blocks. (Ok, maybe one more thing needed to be said).

The weekend was great. For the 1st time in three year, I saw a man who back then I believed I was in love with. We ignored each other at the Fri night braai until I took up my gutsy drunken typical role & sat down next to him for a chat. Cough. Chat. One of his friends disappeared fast, the other looked on in mild shock & confusion. My dear “friend” can remember more than I can about our whole past situation. Which left me shocked. And realising, thank you for being an immature spineless bastard back then & not having wasted my precious time & love cause I realise now how screwed up YOU are, not me. Good luck to his fiancé. Yes, I am still just slightly unimpressed with & angry at him. He is still kinda cute though.

Then I finished a bottle of someone else’s wine and headed to a friend’s 30th. I arrived 3 hours late, after the spitted lamb had just been polished off. My friend wasn’t too happy with this. I went to the kitchen for some water. I turned the tap on, and the tap came off in my hand. Water was flooding everywhere. In a house packed with 50 plus people. I couldn’t turn the tap off. I couldn’t get the plug out of the packed sink. I was terrified out my half-drunken exhausted emotionally-upheaved mind on what on earth to do. Run. Find help and leave the water gushing. Stay & try to sort it out knowing full well I lacked any ability to. The Malawian maid who can’t speak any English somehow sensed my panic through the walls of the house. She rushed in. Sorted the problem out. Laughed. A lot. Gave me a hug. And never again will we mention this. That for my friend’s 30th I nearly drowned his abode.

The rest of the weekend was great. No sleep. A day-long Christmas party, ending when I found a space between presents & a carpet on my cousin’s couch to snoooze. No xmas presents bought yet. 3 course lunch at a friend’s restaurant while admiring a bachelor’s lunch at the next table. Ooooo, I could so be a bachelor’s friend if I get to attend events like that! No order brought to my new abode yet. Cocktail at Moyos. Good times.

Now I must go and prep for a 3 day meeting with delegates from around the world. You might hear less than nothing from me during this time. I have the very very important job of being rappateour. What’s that? …a glorified note-taker. F*ck. Do not think I did not less-than-mildly throw my toys when my boss approached me about this.

And do not think these rapping notes are not gonna require translating into English from hangover tired language. Afterall, it is now officially the festive season baby!