Rough Times

Just a quick post in the interim of the novellas that constitute our dangerous canoeing escapade. The occasion is my first Zambian club experience, though probably not with the most truly Zambian crowd of them all. A gentleman graduate of the American school  here hosted an open bar and Jack and I earned an invitation through Taylor, a girl we met through some nebulous ex pat connection. She was nice enough to bring us roughnecks along and somehow got our name one the list. There was a list. But I digress. We arrive, and the club is full of white kids, ostensibly diplomats children, as well as South Africans. I think I love South Africans, or at least this certain chap named Quinn (or something). He has had laser hair removal. All over his body. He told me a story about slitting the neck of a sheep and then skinning it. All for fun and games. He takes flaming sambuca shots and snorts the vapors. He has other attributes I cannot remember. Clearly, he is a man I hold in high regard. Anyways, in addition to the intoxicating influence of my new friend Quinn, we discovered there was an open bar. Jacks eyes met mine and we had a moment, a moment during which a decision was made. No words were needed to communicate that decision. The decision was to have a rough morning. Open bars are a nefarious thing that I wish were banned. Honestly I have no use for them. They only lead to pain, misery, and me finding myself the next morning at 9 am with water and coffee in respective hands having just taken a couple of tylenol. Anyways, these quasi Zambians did nothing to mitigate that inevitability, and Jack and I were quickly swept up in the revelry. They were giving away my favorite beer, Windhock. I became very social, and tried to strike up numerous conversations with individuals who proved patently uninterested in my addled musings. The night wore on, and the situation became untenable. I diversified my portfolio to include water and eventually then shifted all my assets into that safer asset class. It was a wise decision and paid dividends as high demand for alcohol led to an asset bubble. When that bubble popped, sometime around 8 am the next morning, investors fled to safer assets like water and the value of my investment increased immensely. Those people with positions long alcohol lost much or all of their dignity.