Comedy Night
My belly full of sushi and beer, I hugged my friend goodbye and clambered on board my beloved purple bicycle for the journey home. It was late, and I was nervous – I don’t much like being out and about in Windhoek at night on my own. The streets are deserted and eerie. Everything is still, apart from the odd piece of rubbish blown by the breeze, which feels like the breath of old souls on your skin. Drunks occasionally lurch from the shadows into the bright puddle cast by a streetlamp. It’s like a ghost town; a menacing one that means you no good.
I came up the hill and around the roundabout by the barred up, darkened windows of the Pink Panther Videorama, hearing shouting and the grumbling of pool tables from the Casino gambling shop next door. A group of toothless girls, past their prime, sat outside on the steps, drinking whisky out of a plastic bottle and sharing their cigarettes with the Ausspanplatz amputee – a scarred and twisted man with one leg and half an arm, who drinks all day in the shade of the shop awnings, and never seems to sleep.
As I came around the corner, the nearest girl leaned off her perch, stretching the bit of her skirt that was trying to keep her arse in check to the limits. She was staring at me with her eyes squeezed half shut, as if this would help her to see me more clearly. She looked as if she had spotted a potential meal on the run. I almost expected her tongue to shoot out and grab me by the leg. Slowly, her arm came up. She pointed, mouth agape, at my approaching figure.
“Look! Look at that!†she shrieked in mirth as I cycled past. Her friends all fell about laughing. I advanced down Independence Avenue, their cackles swallowed up by the silence behind me.
Two minutes later, a car full of girls pulled up beside me at a stop light. It only took once glance, and they were instantly incapacitated by the hilarity of me.
I don’t know what was so funny. I even got off my bike to check the back of my skirt, to see if it was tucked into my knickers, but it all seemed fine. I came to the only conclusion I could: the essence of comedy runs through my veins. I am instantly amusing to everyone who sees me. This is quite a burden to have to bear, especially at this stage in my life, when I want to be taken a bit more seriously. Still, we all have our crosses.
I bet I’m worth a fortune on Ebay.
September 14th, 2006 at 6:33 pm
Oh, you really don’t want to be taken more seriously “at this stage in your life”. Trust me. Being taken seriously is not at all what it’s cracked up to be.
I’d like to see you on that purple bicycle of yours, though. To see if I can keep a straight face.
September 14th, 2006 at 6:37 pm
Undoubtedly, but I think they have rules about that sort of thing. In any event, you should seek an upscale audience because I don’t think the people who so appreciated you last night (a) are likely online shoppers, or (b) have large disposable incomes. Have you considered a line of Rachie “merch” for offer on your site, or via eBay? Might you charge a personal appearance fee for riding through neighborhoods better able to compensate you for your mirth-giving abilities? There must be a way to monetize this talent!
September 14th, 2006 at 9:15 pm
for some inexplicable reason, you are peculiarly comical en velo.. did you have a clip on one leg to avoid chain-chafage?? the light sheen of perspiration on the upper lip? a humorous helmet? who knows.. you’ve made me chuckle again in any case. well more of a snigger and a small snort at the end.
September 15th, 2006 at 12:23 am
Your reading public demands a photo so we can judge for ourselves.
September 15th, 2006 at 6:27 am
Well, we’ve always found you very amusing
I think a photo of you and the purple bike is going to be necessary though
xx
September 15th, 2006 at 6:57 am
You think cycling causes mirth? Any time I walked in Windhoek several cars would screech to a halt asking if I needed a ride to the nearest service station. As obviously my fancy car had broken down because dear god there is no other reason for a human being to walk!!
September 15th, 2006 at 9:45 am
Waterhot – I’m never to know, as I doubt I’m in any danger of ever being taken seriously. sigh. Also, you wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face. No-one can.
Mel – I don’t understand why. Yes, I had the helmet, and the sheen of perspiration, but I have a chain guard now, so cycle clips are a thing of the past. My friend’s boyfriend always used to call me Bunty, though, and piss himself laughing whenever I showed up at their house on my bike. I don’t get it.
Hobbes, Ellie – It would have to be an action photo – I’m like lance armstrong on a shopper, only instead of a yellow jersey, I wear a pink skirt.
Clare – wow, that’s very civil! Now it’s only taxis honking at you all day long. Sometimes I just stand in the middle of the road and shout “I’m WALKING, ok? I dont’. Need. A. Ride. Stop with the beeping.”
September 16th, 2006 at 3:26 am
Yes, join Hobbes, photos required. Video post even better.
September 19th, 2006 at 9:54 am
Joe – I’ll think about it. Maybe if you’re very lucky, I’ll make my silver screen debut right here….