It all starts out so innocent. A Wednesday afternoon and the work week couldn’t be any longer. Everybody in the office is hunched up by their keyboards and their eyes are glued to the glowing screen as they type away. It doesn’t really matter that most are posting Facebook updates and commenting on pictures from the last weekend. Remember it is almost mid month so the pinch is starting to feel. These pictures represent bad financial decisions. There’s one particular one that caught my attention – I was not snooping but it had a damsel in the shortest of dresses hugging two large bottles of whiskey. What stands out is that she is in a club. We all know they cost two arms, a liver and both kidneys, well only if you are a gentleman. For ladies the price is dignity.
So anyway the thirst creeps in and I can definitely use one for the road. Who knows where this road leads to? Anyway back to my story. If you’ve ever had the thirst you know you first go through the motions of looking for a drinking buddy. I fire up my texts hitting up the usual suspects. This was my first mistake but human is to err. As fate would have it the thirst had hit them hard. It was set; we would all meet up at the local joint for one or two. The number wasn’t really agreed upon – our second mistake.
Two years ago a club and a church had one thing in common on a Wednesday – they were both empty. How time changes things, the place was packed. Guys in suits and sweaters swarmed the counter as ladies in black dresses flocked in drones hunching up in small tables sipping red wine – FYI ladies kingfisher is not red wine! I was the last to arrive – blame it on the Ngong road traffic. The lads already had a bottle of brandy sitting pretty on the table. I was in dismay.
After the usual mini celebrations and bringing of an extra glass festivities broke. We all knew that the offices the next day demanded our presence but offices like girlfriends tend to be too clingy and a man needs his space. Long story short we had one for the road. Well, more like one for all the roads. I had one for Moi Avenue, Kenyatta Avenue, Mama Ngina, two for Jogoo Road, and a cheap froth for Luthuli.
The morning after I had a head heavier than Nazizi’s former body. For some reason painkillers did not work. I took three tablets of mara moja – they should change that name to mara tu mpaka utapona. That’s false advertising!
A common myth is ‘kutoa lock’. Basically what you do is take more alcohol to fight the effects of last night’s alcohol. It doesn’t seem like a good Idea but there’s something about drowning men and clutching straws. I had two shots of straight pure grain vodka. I admit it felt good – until I woke up on the carpet. The phone had more missed calls than I can count – remember us saying something about a clingy girlfriend? It was 5 in the evening. I hadn’t gone to work and my head still felt pregnant. The door bell rings and my friend is standing there looking sheepish. He claims I skipped job on purpose. I explain to him what happened and laughing he convinces me I did it all wrong. So we decide to try it all over again and do it the right way. Did it work the second time? Well, I will tell you once I am done with the HR we have a meeting at two. For now I just wish mara moja had a minty flavor.