Some say the best things in life are free. Well I personally think Love, sex and most importantly alcohol have never been free. Even when someone buys it for you, you pay with a hangover.
I also get those days when I have to dig into someone else’s pockets using my tongue. Money or no money it’s always important to turn up. It’s such nights where the wallet mocks me but for some reason the night turns out fine.
I start with a treck to my usual kafunda ‘Tortuga’ thinking Jemo my personal waiter would give liquor on credit like he does once every few months. My thirst and hunger levels were so high that I got a taxi to my drinking heaven.
Upon arrival, a tear dropped from my left eye when I saw that the usual kafunda had just been demolished. I greeted Jemo who told me that the Pope’s visit had put it into the KCCA spotlight for demolition. Jemo told me how he had no transport to transfer the last crate of Guinness he had and called me to assist him finish it.
My lips kissed those Guinness bottles as if they were my girlfriend before going for an overseas trip. Bottle after bottle, we sipped while speaking broken Jamaican English since Jemo thinks Rastas should only speak Patois , but for some reason he kept saying “Nalumasi” instead of “Lawd Have mercy. ”
I noticed it was about 10:30 in the night which meant I was late for Emmy’s birthday. I called Kyehuba to come pick me using some money a pensioner had given him for a job well done. Kyehuba came and we got a bike to Namugongo.
Our arrival was embraced by high pitched chants from Emmy who was high as F***. My wallet was clearly telling my hand to grab the remaining Red Label from the table. I galloped the bottle like a street kid grabs food from a charity organisation.
The problem with free things is you just can’t have enough of them. And since everyone at the party was being housed, most of them were rug drunk and occasionally broke bottles. We exhibited extreme levels of hooliganism for until the waiter brought us a knife.
Time for the most epic and alcohol inspired cake cutting had reached. I don’t remember what the cake tasted like because my taste buds were dead at this point but thankfully my legs were still able to hide my ‘height.’
At midnight, the party was over and we had to get bikes back to our places but there was no way I was going to bed at midnight. I pulled my colleague Winne to the side and convinced her to sweet talk Kyehuba into giving her money which she would later give me. Trust me alcohol was doing the talking. My plan worked as she slid a ’20K’ note into my back pocket as I went to hug her Goodnight.
I sat with Shawn on the boda-boda back to Kampala because he seemed more sober. I jumped off near Panamera and left Shawn on the bike since he was going to what I call a substandard bar. I dodged paying for entry coupon the by chatting with a bouncer.
I then made a few calls to my usual barmates. Well, most of them were in bed, except a certain CEO who was quick to my rescue. He apologized for always making me do things, and today he would kill me. Big Guinness bottles appeared on my table and ladies came by and a shisha pot appeared.
The drinks were on point and I wasn’t spending a penny but this turned into a booze war as it clocked 4 am where walking was a problem.
But the Lord loved me that night! A long lost villagemate saw me and decided to drive me back to my residence. My eyes opened at 2pm the following day. I had a tonne of missed calls but the sight of a bank deposit message put a smile on my face.
Damn!! I just finished my reserve Smirnoff Vodka. Allow me go and buy more because drunken Tales have to keep coming.
