Dance like no one is watching you:

Okay, that was 2020's to 2000's.

Let's continue the journey.

90's music!

 
This (my absolute fave) takes me back to 330 , middle dance floor just outside VIP section at the top of the stairs that you have to pass through on your way up to the roof:
 
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These songs take me back to the late 90's living at "The Ascots" next to greyville racecource. Such an awesome spot. Even had a squash court next to the laundromat.

We were in unit 2 right next to the entrance, always playing this **** at top volume, loud enough for all the residents arriving home after their jol at 1amish poking their head in out of curiosity and end up staying and making friends.

We had a friend who was "speaker" on the body corporate, so unit 2 was always squashed when it came up and my neighbour above me was the owner of 80's.

Only after we had left (the 10% annual rent increase was too hectic) did we find out that the extractor fan in the toilet wafted all the weed smoke into the 2 floors above us (we were ground floor)

I still vote at Clarence Primary though. Couldn't be bothered to reregister with IEC, mainly because I dont trust them to not **** it up and also its a nice 5 minute vote except this time which took the whole entire day of drivebys until 8pm when the line was finally shorter.


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I remember forgetting to pay my puny double digit leccy bill.

They cut me off without delay (less than 60 days) and it cost me like a hectic 2 months of would be usage as punishment to reconnect. I had to stand in a line like a pleb at their office next to the greyhound bus station, downstairs from crash were you can get to if you go up the ramp.

Only open Saturdays. My brother, this one time at c.r.a.s.h. (who was visiting from Jhb) fell asleep and woke up sometime sunday morning with the club shut down (we were enemies in those days and we did our own thing) but managed just in time to grab the bouncer or whoever had just locked the front entrance attention to let him out.

He could have starved as they would have only opened 7 days later and there were no cell phones back then. Maybe he could have survived on vodka or something?

This was the Mike Sutcliffe days.

 
Another jol was that place next to the Hilton, my brain fog can't remember the name, Tilt?

Anyway, I had to leave my car there on time after the jol closed daylight already sunday morning, as I couldn't get the thing into gear to go forward.

I managed to get a lift with the copious amount of friends I always make on the night back home and went back on monday to try again with the car. It was at this moment that I realised there was a gearlock which I then unlocked and drove home.

Before you judge me too harshly, it was a loaner from the panelbeater so my muscle memory was not that familiar with it because my car was getting repaired from bouncing off a retaining wall on my way to teezers, managed to miss a light pole that was somehow in the middle of all the mess I left on the wall, it was a left hand bend in the road at the top of a hill @ 120 in a 60 zone, so the tyres didnt grip as I was ramping when I turned the steering wheel, (sydenham, 45th cutting.

Somehow I hit in a way that didn't set any airbags off or injure me but I ended up on the other side of the road on a grass banck oinfront of a huge block of flats where all the residents started coming out and surrounding me.

Luckily the SAPS Police still "worked" in those days and the station was just 1 min away and a hilux appeared in no time. I was still trying to start the car that was dead (cracked battery?)

They were very nice, they put me in the back of the van to keep me safe from the plebs of sydenam.

They asked me if I has valuables in the car which I did (work stuff) so they let me phone a friend who they gave a police escort to because he didn't know where I was so he met them at springfield n2 onramp.

He arrived, and we unloaded my boot into his car, we went to the station and filled out an accident report and then my friend and I went to that club at Greyville racecourse, where I puked into one of their pot plants next to the shooter bar. The pills in those days were good.

 
This one reminds of that place in Umgeni by the railways tracks. Traxxs?

They had a VIP dancefloor upstairs.

 
I only did a "Dude Where's my Car" once in my life.

This one time at Hooters near Oyster Box resulted in a proper bender and we ended up at some beach parking a couple of k's away.

Long story short, woke up at my friends house the next day, zero memory of the night before, thank goodness my posse remembered where it was or else I would have been pretty ****ed and would have probably had to involve SAPS (that was still good and specialised in those days) to track it down.

This takes me back to the back dancefloor at crash durban station. My first cousin from benoni who was living with me (judy lee in goble road) at the time was dancing the **** out of the nobody was watching rule.

 
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1993, my Orange Grove 13th St days where the only thing I remember was winter when the dog water bowl was frozen and walking across the frosted grass in the park to the bus stop, and PARK TOWN PRAWNS!

Damn, those KES school scarfs and blazers came in handy. Can't remember if the double decker buses had heating. They must have as if I suffered it would have been imprinted into the "Character building" folder, like the crunchy grass.

 
1994 was the year when white victimhood started in proper slow boiling a frog style. I remember all the non-zulus where shitting themselves because IFP was marching up louis botha to town where anc headquarters were at shell house and where allowed to go home so by the time they came past the school only us whites were there and we watched them and their shields spears singing and dancing on their way. It was a lovely sight. Then they got shot by some ANC thugs with AKs because they were shitting themselves so much that they needed big guns to make them feel safe from a situation that was completely normal at the time until they started shooting.

That's when I learned that all the tribes are **** scared of the Zulus. Must be because of the history of them chasing everyone (the bushmen (remember the drakensburg cave paintings), lesotho okes, the xhosas, maybe the vendas and the sothos (not sure, I hate history) off stealing their land by chopping their heads off and ****ing their woman.

I think this was worse than white colonialism and the arab slave times when they had white slaves.

 
1992 I think was the the time I spent 1 year (std 6) at northview high school next to balfour shopping centre, where I was harrassed by the hottest chick in the school because I was "cute" because I looked 7 years younger than my age group (bone age verified, many experts later, no answer), but was the first co-ed school in my life, so my skills were none existent and I just ran as fast as I could through the shopping centre and always lost managed to lose her. As a skivvy, I had to beg for money for this matric oke every day which I somehow managed with great success. Strangely, I was never bullied at school, probably the "short man sydrome" expression that I carried at all times and the gift of being exceptionally strong for my size (I always won arm wrestles), you know like ballie strength.

This one time I ended up at a house party and she was there, I completely freaked out and managed to avoid her like the coward that I was at that age of 13.

Oh if I can have a do over of my life! Debra would be my wife now.

 
1990 I was at WHPS boarding school in waterkloof Pretoria (weekly, went home to jhb on fridays, back on sundays and had to listen to all the snowflakes in the dorm after lights out missing home crying, not me, I came from a broken dysfuntional divorced at 6 family where I watched mom chase dad around the house in dbn north (clarendon drive, around 1980) with an axe when she locked him out the house) after moving up from dbn in 88 in the middle of the year, std 3. They laughed at me because I couldn't roll my tongue with my r's in afrikaans, I could only make the eeerrrrr sound. In those days we used to get the belt. This one time I was playing in the 280E W123 merc and pulled the gear out of park on the driveway that was quite steep. It gathered some momentum in the few seconds that I was processing what was happenening as a 6 year old, then instinct kicked in and I rammed it back back into P, which locked up the wheels and it screeched to a halt. I immediately remembered that one time with the belt many moons ago (only one time, not even sure if it was used but...) and I immediately took action and bolted and hid in my hiding spot (the small top cupboard above the the normal BIC in my bedroom). Long story short, nothing happened, they couldnt find me and had calmed down by then, sorry for leading you on.

It was a private school, only 3 terms, and multi racial. Yes there were rich indians and blacks sending their kids to private boarding school during apartheid in 1988.

Again, my super strength and mad crazy short man syndrome demeanor protected me from bullies. Some tried (only once), they ended up face down in the dirt.

I had no clue about apartheid except this one time when I asked Mahesh after the weekend if he had watch the new latest movie at the cinema and he said no, he's not allowed to.

I had black and indians friends sleeping over on weekends a lot and my racist right winger parents seemed completely find with it reinforcing my ignorance of "apratheid".

It was only after 1994, when whites became second class citizens after ANC betrayed us all and broke their promise that I becamse a "racist". So ANC made me into a racist, not the kind that hates people, but rather the system where I have to go black face to protest about not getting into uni because of my skin colour.

This is not why we voted yes in 92.

 
1991. The year I was running away from prom queen every day for a year.

Std 7 I started KES, all boys again.

 
94, but this reminds of the days when I used to set the cruise control to 160 on my december durban to cape town non stop trips (before leccy and petrol was expensive). I had a jammer. I did the trip in 12 hours.

I forgot my cds behind and the only one was my speed garage one that was in the player already.

 
One of the best one hit wonders.

1994, a time when Jhb metro police had those box shaped skylines with the big bullbar on the front that they used regularly to ram the taxis blocking the roads when they were protesting about something, but we hardly noticed as it was over before it began, all impounded and probably crushed. The good old days when we had laws.
 
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