Somethings are so funny because of the context in which they happened it is hard to translate it into white and black. Hemingway might say the task is insurmoutable, but here at RSJ we try to 'mount' anything...
I love how in most contests the crowd will always have a soft spot for 'the little guy'. Unfortunately this soft spot doesn't match the desires of all the hotties in the crowd to gargel the manhood of the the winning QB; but take nothing away from this soft spot as sentiment does count for some measure of moral achievement. Look at Tunisa at the George 7s!
However, this soft spot phenonemon doesn't extend to doormen, bouncers or security personnel as no matter how cute and cuddly you are, you aren't coming my side of the stantion unless you wait your turn like all the other patrons.
I experienced evidence to this fact very recently, this sunday night in fact. We were relaxing at a quiet subdued Camps Bay social venue when time passed into the business end of the innings and security set up their rope barrier and made partygoers queue in an orderly fashion...
The queue amassed about 30 people fairly quickly and as with all queues somebody is brave or special enough to walk right to the front and slide passed the hired muscle with a high 5 or sexy wink. For interests sake, I'm not that guy.
One such 'bravespecial' (and life-ruin-ingly short) guy came barging through the crowd and went for the 'I-come-here-so-often-to-be-considered-a-famous-VIP-local-hence-need-special-treatment-and-I-do-all-this-to-compensate-for-my-ummm...' angle and his crowd ploughing was rudely halted by a big black swinging stiff arm...
Getting asked to politely wait with the other minnows is hardly worth making a post about but the tantrum Lord Farquaard then threw was priceless. Indignant at not been recognised as the guy who spends enough money at the place to warrant special treatment the little guy threw a scene that 6 year old girls could only dream about mimicing in the aisles of toys-r-us this christmas.
He ended up phoning someone in a very high place (mind you, any place above 4' 2 is high for him) and passed the phone on to the security guy and they sorted out the 'miscommunication'! However the damage had been done, having to phone your mom to speak to the bouncer is just as provencial as waiting in the queue...
I doubt this story will feature in the little guy's memoires..!
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