- The Blind Kid
I share a birthday with one of my best friends, Hein. Well, almost, he was born on the 14th of February, and the doctor yanked my lazy ass clear of my mom three hundred and sixty three days earlier, or rather, on the 16th of February of the previous year (provided it wasn’t a leap year? Oh God, was it a leap year? Now I need to check before I print something that is factually incorrect… Ok, I checked, my initial math was right – are you going to check it, though? Then how do you know I’m not lying? Ok, ok, I’ll get on with it!) Anyway, they had to use something that looks like a pair of wonky braai tongs. Apparently, I was a large kid and it seems not much has changed since then.
A few years ago, we had a lekker kuier* to celebrate our birthdays with some friends and touristy drinks. I say “touristy” because I don’t have the heart to tell you it was slutty. Slutty drinks! Actually, Heinie enjoyed a few too many Heinies, and that’s pretty much all we needed to have an awesome evening – an over-served Hein.
After our (slutty) drinks, Havenga decided that he’d like to go and play some cards at Gold Reef City casino. None of us are gamblers (except when we test our new pick-up lines on a pretty bird a la http://www.superawesomebear.co.za/2010/06/i-searched-for-landmines-in-demilitarised-zones/ ), but we can’t resist watching Havenga play, he is just one of the luckiest bastards I know. Allow me to explain by way of an example: One evening he was just walking through Monte Casino, just walking through, and slot machines started hitting triple sevens in his wake, vomiting cash by the bucket load! Ek sweer! Ok, but seriously, he stopped at a table where they were playing Blackjack and watched for a minute. He noticed one oke had a seven, so he put R5 down. The oke ended up getting two more sevens and Havenga left that table with R25 000 from his initial R5 investment. Wasn’t even his hand. He was playing! When Havenga goes to a casino, magic happens.
We all do stupid things when drunk. Hell, I’ve charged a wall (repeatedly), called my dad “Luke Watson” (that’s just the PC version of the P-Bomb – his payback was epic), two Decembers ago we had a Guitar Hero marathon round robin type thing, I was told that I had to take a shot of Jack Daniels every time I wanted to play a game because I was too good and my friends needed to handicap me in a way. Three quarters of that bottle o’ Jack later, and I was STILL kicking ass in Guitar Hero. I did end up losing my pants in the process… Damn, I was rocking the Kasbah that night, though my friend’s kids still look at me funny, what a cheap price for GLORY!
Most of the time drunk people are an annoying chore. But when they’re not an annoying chore, they can be fantastically hilarious to observe, much like Hein who decided he was going to be blind for the rest of that evening. I mean, why not?
I’ve faked being blind before, it’s really difficult (and embarrassing, especially if you want to sell it) But Hein made absolutely no effort to sell this disability. He didn’t have sunglasses, and he didn’t even bother shutting his eyes properly. He looked like someone of Asian descent aimlessly meandering through the great halls of the Golden Reef. He bumped into objects, bumped into people. It was so disgustingly obvious, and that just made it ten times funnier. People had no idea what the EF was going on – is he blind? Is he faking? Is it something else, like a mild case of cerebral palsy? These questions went unanswered as we walked (and Hein stumbled) through Goldies.
When we finally got to the Blackjack table, Hein sat next to Havenga and started playing as well. Yes, the blind man was playing Blackjack. His explanation to the bint next to him was, “You can hear what card it is by the sound it makes when it comes out of the shoe…” I mean, have you ever heard such nonsense in your life – it was so awesomely ludicrous, yet Hein sold it with conviction and she earnestly believed him. The dealer, who was a man and thus not infinitely stupid**, just chuckled and went on with his work.
We left Hein and Havenga to enjoy their game, while Fred and I played some of the cheaper games on the floor, away from the smoke-filled Prive (They say second hand smoke is even more dangerous! I’m just glad I made the right choice). We opted for electronic Blackjack. We each took R50, fed the machine, sat back, talked kak and played Blackjack, with no hope or intention of winning. The idea was to kill time until Havenga won R1-million, or until Hein got shot.
Fred and I were enjoying our Blackjack game when we received a call from Havenga but Fred was too late to answer. We assumed he was winning big and we wanted to leave in a hurry, he probably needed the extra arms to carry all the cash he’d won. Unfortunately the Blackjack machine we were playing on didn’t have a cash-out option, so we figured we’d lose our R50 quick, fast and in a hurry, so we can get up to Havenga and help him carry his chips.
Therein lay our conundrum – Fred and I kept on winning, no matter how recklessly we gambled in an attempt to lose our money and get out of there, we just kept on winning. When our initial R50 investment was over R700 plus, we came to our sense, called the pit boss and cashed out. Obviously we wasted a lot of time since that first missed call from Havenga, subsequently trying to lose our money and consequently cashing out. When we finally got back to Havenga and blind Hein, Havenga urged us to leave as quickly as possible, he didn’t elaborate.
When we got outside, blind Hein excitedly told us that he was invited by casino personnel to go and gamble in the special room for blind people. The casino personnel he was referring to was security and the special room for blind people was most likely the one room in the casino with no cameras where they could break his thumbs with a hammer. You see, blind Hein thought that no one would notice him stealing the chips of the lady seated next to him (apparently Wonder Woman didn’t notice either, which was roughly the time Havenga phoned us to GTFO*** of there.
The four of us lit cigarettes (see, right choice, nothing second hand my cousin!) whilst Havenga filled us in on blind Hein’s antics in the casino. I was bummed that I missed it, but I’m sure, had Fred and I been with Hein in the Prive, we would’ve been arrested, maybe shot in some back alley, and the scene would’ve looked like we turned on each other… sneaky casinos…
Now I don’t know if you’ve been to Gold Reef yet, and if you’ve been, do you recall the fountain at the casino entrance with the beautiful metal sculpture of wild antelope leaping forward? And of course, the little fountains scattered throughout the parking lot that look like the modern equivalent of a horse trough with an iron nozzle sticking out of it? No? Pay attention next time! Blind Hein was sitting on the big one at the entrance and accidentally stuck his bum in the water. Seeing that he was now wet and February is known for its lovely summer evenings, Hein wanted to go for a swim. But not in his own pool at home like a normal sober would, no sir, he wanted to swim then and there. Parking lot fountain = problem solved.
Being the good friends that we are, we allowed Hein to go for a dip, but not in the big fountain, and certainly not with his cellphone in his pocket, his shoes or his watch, we escorted him to one of the fountains obscured by darkness, close to our cars (in case we need to escape in haste). The three of us stood back as Hein took his run-up in the dark parking lot, leapt and dove into one of these (extremely) short and shallow fountains. He hit his head against the iron pipe in the middle of the fountain with some force (he took a run-up for Pete’s sake!).
He surfaced, crying, “Julle maak my seer! (You’re hurting me!)” all the while weeping like a little girl – I didn’t blame him for crying, that looked particularly painful, I mean, he bent an iron pipe with his HEAD! And with all the class of Jerry Springer contestants guests, we started laughing at our poor friend who had a massive owie-boo-boo on his forehead. At least he had dry shoes, socks and cellphone.
It was late, Hein was wet, we were tired and hungry. The usual thing to do in these situations is to go to Bimbos. Flip, Bimbos was awesome when we were younger, a nice meal (which would always be a rather questionable meal when sober) after an evening of dancing. Plus they sold beer! We rarely had money to go to the much classier Catz, the only other 24 hour bistro in JHB. The Bimbos tradition was simple: Semi-drunk friends hook-up at the B, have a burger and a coke, enjoyed that last smoke while we reminisced about the evening’s adventures, beautiful birds, cool songs and the odd wanker you almost bliksemed, ate and left to go to bed.
That evening was different. Hein was sleeping in the back of my car (it was about 2am) and Havenga, Fred and I decided to go for a bite, knowing full well we’d all probably be home by 2:30. But not that night. On the early morning of Sunday the 15th of February, Havenga, Fred and I had one of the best chats in the history of the universe, we had everything right there, beer, food, smokes and of course a cornucopia of goodness to talk about.
It wasn’t until the sun started to come up that we realised Hein was still in the car, freezing his soaking wet behind off. Like any good friends would, we checked on him. The car was totally fogged up. We opened the door and a waft of steam escaped the vehicle while a shivering, quivering Hein lay on the back seat. “I’m cold!” he whimpered. We empathised. We too knew what it was like to be unbearably cold and not having any facility to do something about it. Except fart. But in a confined space that’s probably not the best idea. From the smell of the interior it was apparent that Hein was at his wit’s end and accessed his internal combustion ability to fight the cold, but to no avail.
As most men would, we left him on the backseat, walked back up to Bimbos and finished our conversation. I’m still waiting for the payback, knowing Hein, it’s going to be a bitch!
* Kuier: A get together, to be social, to spend time with friends.
** The dealer, who was a man and thus not infinitely stupid: Ok, so how many of you did I offend with that little line? I was going for all of my readers, yes, all three of you.
It’s just a joke, there is no truth to it, I’m sorry ladies, I was merely going for a cheap chuckle. By the way, while I’m defining the Afrikaans words ladies, did you know that “gullible” isn’t really in the dictionary? I swear! I even tried to google it, but Google couldn’t even give me results for “Gullible” – check for yourself! Clicky –>> Define: Gullible
*** GTFO: If you REALLY don’t know this one, just Google it, I ain’t gonna tell you.