Friday night
Evidence wa ka Ngobeni
It’s another Jo’burg Friday night and as usual I meet Paul at the same restaurant that’s seen us for the last five Friday nights. Waving his “phat” wallet at me, Paul suggests that we hit the town since we have the cash, babes and status to match the attitude. It’s cold, but we have the fine stack of notes, so we set off to mix with everyone from yuppie executives and Wits students to township conformists.
Our first stop is the very full Full Stop in Melville. Tonight, however, the United States-decorated restaurant is crawling with journalists and government officials.
Six of them – one my co-worker – are seated at a homely wooden table, coated with a rose- covered cloth. The journalists look happy to see us. We settle comfortably into the nicely netted chairs and wait. Although the waiters are usually engaged, tonight one with short blonde hair quickly attends to us. We’ve eaten. Paul suggests we vibe. We decide there’s a good chance that Horror Caf in Newtown will be packed with some babes and some blaring sounds. We are partly right. But there are no babes.
Mark, a part-time teacher, tells me Horror Caf is usually empty these days. (Perhaps it’s because of the chill or the darkness, or because of the filthy old building next door.) Anyway, Paul, after having a few cans of Windhoek argues that Morgans Nightclub at the Randburg Waterfront is the place to go.
On the way we check out The Base in Hillbrow. A R20-per-head fee at the door is fairly high and Paul wants to save money. But the few notes of kwaito, filtering out of a window somewhere, encourage us to part with our bucks.
And there are the babes, stuck to the dance floor. Johanna, in her sexy good clothing and fine shoes, asks me to dance (later she asks for cider). Paul and I drink brandies. Johanna makes the first move. Paul and I decide it’s time to get serious and remove our jackets. It’s hot. So we hurriedly leave for Randburg.
Morgans gets pretty busy in the evenings. It’s one of the few clubs (if not the only one) there with a vibey thing going, the music ranging from house to speed-garage, to drum’n’ bass.
White babes in fly gear, with fly hair and bad attitudes, litter this club. The downstairs bar is full of yuppie lawyers and the groovy gang playing pool. We fight our way through the throngs in thongs – men in Morgans T-shirts and women in black jeans taking orders before we’ve decided to drink. It’s happening here, says Paul.
In no time at all we have new girlfriends, with expensive tastes. We’re buying the rounds and everything is moving well. Too well. Later Paul tells them that we’ve have had enough for the day. We take off but we’re going nowhere. Sadly our car can’t go, we left the lights on!
Evidence wa ka Ngobeni is a news reporter for the Mail & Guardian