Glances and Chances

How often do you turn your head, make eye contact and glance at the person as you overtake them?

This has got to be one of the most succinct moments of our modern lives…  Perhaps we were never ‘wired’ to move this fast and this is one of those engrained instincts that has stuck with us to seek out, adjudicate and act (or not act…) or as we have now termed it JUDGE.

That moment where in an instant, you either regret looking or are surprisingly pleased to have glanced casually – always casually – and made eye contact.

It’s that fraction of a second – that miniscule moment – that I find so funny…

There are endless scenarios that run through my mind – traffic in Joburg lets you have time to think and experience some of these things…

Whether its overtaking a sluggish silver Toyota Corolla on Rivonia only to pass a glance – WOW she’s a cracker – feeling yourself subconsciously slowing down to have a second look?

Seeing the attractive person in the review mirror as you wait … Red … Amber … Green...

Do make eye contact again…? Give them a wave, a dorky smile – a smile that will never go anywhere?

RATS s/he pulled off – realising as you start to work out the number of cars on the roads in Gauteng and the likely probability of EVER seeing her again becoming as minuscule as the timeframe you interacted with them… (sigh)

OR

The biker that squeezes by your car while you are set on the tarmac, almost bumping your side mirror, only to give you a glance and the reflective visor to quite scarily force you to look back and zap him in your mind as you watch him – irritated – disappearing into the distance – take the turn off into the McDonalds Drive-Thru grab a Number 2 – I like to think so – and be off before you have made one car’s progress…

OR

The grotesque individual – male or female – not smiling, eyes hazy, wrappers and cans in the backseat that literally forces you to pretend to be looking at their car and slowly start to remove focus from the spot you are pretending to look at just below the handle of the door…

Green …

Thank goodness…

On a funnier more abstract note does this provide the platform for the next form of modern dating – we’ve heard of online dating – is traffic dating or “trafficking” – wait that’s something else… the next BIG thing? The chance to make contact and tell someone to stop putting on their make up or picking their nose, someone you feel you could connect with – perhaps star sign compatibilities displayed…

I can already see the red dotted LED screen mounted on the windscreen scrolling… (Courtesy: Notting Hill)

“You are the most beautiful women in the world …”

“Fancy a Shag? J”  (apparently anything ended off in a smiley face these days means "said comment" cannot be offensive – FYI…)

No… that’s creepy I hear the beat of your binary thoughts toward me over the Internet…

But we’ve all done it… Well not Traffic-Dated – but judged…

I wonder if there are any success stories…? Pieces of paper with a cellphone number scribbled in Lipstick?

Hand-signing your mobile number to the hottie next to you – while hoping the tattooed tow-truck driver isn’t writing down your number at the same time…

“Where did you meet…?”

“In traffic on Marlboro just before you hit the N3” (not romantic but hey…)

We all judge – the immediate judging of the driver of a flash sports car, the skedonk Datsun, the stinger missile in the Hyundai ix35, MILF in the Toyota Prado, relaxed cat on his Vespa with a loaf of French bread and an Olive Tapenade dip in his carry basket as he scoots by on 4^th Avenue as you anxiously prepare to parallel park in front of Espressos as the crowd watches… and judges.

So judging has become part of modern society – practiced – accepted – maybe  there’s some fun to be had here?

So … next time you steal a glance take the chance – wave, wink or smile – I always do – you never know, it just may be worth your while…

Betamorphosis - Lycra likes this...

Protected from the harsh sun in our expertly constructed full body suits - manufactured and imported no doubt from a factory in mainland China where working conditions are less than ideal - the weekend unfolded with the chants and jeers as 6 brave men sucked it up (quite literally in most photos) and paraded outfits that left little to the imagination of most onlookers... Some girls (most at the guy wearing the camo suits) looked impressed - or at least that's what I could make out from the blurred vision you experience as I looked through a 1000 thread count polyester blend of ridiculousness.

This brings me to the Fun side...

Imagine everyone was clad in Lycra as the default option of dress...

Imagine waking up, groggy from a big day at the cricket (picture all your photos on Facebook - everyone in different coloured morph suits), getting a glass of water at the tap - your fountain of refreshment - and realising you are late for a meeting and have to decide what colour morph suit you had to wear. Imagine them all hanging there, arms and fingers dangling lifeless like the second skins of silliness you currently associate these with...

Hilarious...

You arrive at the meeting after seeing an array of morhps (not a homophobe...) on your way to work in their cars head nodding to the music, mouths (where they use to be...) gaping as the radio song hit the crescendo of "I would do anything for love - but I won't do that..." as the Old School section on 5FM plays as the soundtrack to your morning life and drive.

I wonder if all of life's sub-cultures would subscribe - goths in black, hippies in tattered flower power shades of grey, car guards with a luminescent yellow reflective item on the chest and the rasta at the robot in candy-striped green, yellow and red...

I can see people or at least only one person on the Gautrain bus listening to his / her iPod with big earphones - inserty ones just wouldn't cut it anymore... Apparently the loss of revenue hit the earphone factory - actually the one next to the factory where the morph suits are made - very hard and they had to close down as a result.

Silly. Well not if you were employed there I guess...

Scoping the lady or man of your dreams would be quite nice - no room to hide those delicate bits and the flaunting of flesh would be rather revealing. I wonder if shop assistants would prescribe vertical line designs to make you appear slimmer and taller despite being obviously overweight and short in your suit.

Would we be healthier? Mind you we would probably all be thinner providing our face masks were permanently zipped up - massive mission to drink and eat out of and if you knew what a hack going to the bathroom was, probably well worth holding back the 6 cups of coffee and a Bar One at work...

MMMmmm Bar One...

Imagine the conversation - "Guys lets dress up for the cricket..."

Would the outcasts and attention seekers created by Universities and 21sts during our irresponsible youth dress up by ... dressing up in a suit like bankers / accountants ... 9to5ers in chinos, white shirt, brown belt and brown shoes (all from Woolworths naturally...)

Ridiculous and rather boring don't you think...

Quite happy we don't all wear morph suits 24.7 - especially a couple people I saw at the cricket on Saturday on there fourth boerie roll and 10 beer - mind you I had two and the same respectively...

Whoopsy daisies...

So next time you see me - or whoever in a morph suit - perhaps rather think of the corollary to silly dress up themes (particularly the morph suit mania we are seeing) and that we may just be dressing up to remind everyone that the uniform, faceless, grossly revealing aspects of what our hips are telling you, is the scientific process of making the world a beta place and that this - betamorhosis - is only a vehicle for laughter, fun and silliness...

Water Cooler Story # 1 - The Great Escape

So while casually filling up a glass of water at the cooler...

Turbotrev a colleague at work walks up to me and we begin to discuss the holidays - as you do - and how much we really wished our offices overlooked infinity pools, above palm fronded white sanded beaches (sigh) and that tanned blonde waitresses were our PA's, or that we even had PA's...

So idle banter becomes chit chat - chit chat becomes meaningful insight - meaningful insight becomes banter...

WHAM!

"...You wouldn't believe it but we almost lost our Kreepy...".

WHAT!

How do you lose a Kreepy!?

So the story goes that with all the rain their pool overflowed onto their sunken veranda to a knee height level, flirting with the next level which would have resulted in a small rapid through their carpeted living room. The obvious conclusion was that as the water level rose, so too did the courage of the aforementioned Kreepy Krauly... or was this chance...?

Silly you say. I see the fun side.

All I can imagine was this poor Kreepy Krauly dreaming of the day it could escape the bounds of its blue - sometimes green (often yo-yoing between the two) existence. I can see it sitting (cramped) on the shelf at a Game store - in the beginning - chatting to other Kreepy Kraulys awaiting a similar fate, to be sentenced to the blue confines of subdued whispers and summer shrieks of people swimming, as a watermelon arrogantly bobbed above it - almost as if to say "yup its lekker up here, loser."

It gets worse for Mr Krauly as it's stuck with only the constant shudder of its erratic backward movement (imagine having to drive in reverse all day) spurred on as the timer kicks in and the slave driver pump house bursts into life to force it on its inefficient loops of the now green pool. With its unhealthy obsession with the stairs and occasional flirt with the surface of the pool as it gasps for air while pushing the boundaries of its manufactured limits - Kreepy Krauly really is in an unhappy place for most of its existence (especially in Winter).

But NOT today!! (well the other day) you could probably have heard the Kreepy say over the torrential rain... The opportunity it had been waiting its entire 5 year guarantee for - water overflowing it took the chance with its twisted tubes and it was so close... it had almost made it - out the pool on the edge of the veranda - the great escape.

Then the water dried up in the summer heat - Turbotrev found the Kreepy - picked it up on the veranda and threw it back into the pool after an extended holiday. Years of patient waiting and he had almost done the impossible.

Funny definitely.

So next time you're having a bad day or think something is impossible - think of Convict Krauly in his pool of imprisonment and his nearly Great Escape...

New Years Resolution - Grow Down!

It was after a lengthy discussion with a younger friend still at varsity (pickled with Jager) that I came across this simple but life altering Mantra. He is by no means the most intelligent person - he will definitely contest this - but his foresight on the topic left me wondering, maybe it is in fact the youth that hold the answers to the Fun Side of Life.

So after the influence of family, friends and our numerous outings - nights out and morning ins - that I submit to the all powerful online universe and attempt to capture and share the essence of optimising fun! My theory unfounded and unresearched like many online sources of debates and discussions centres around "growing down".

Growing down you say... Do the following phrases sound familiar...

"A double bender on a weekend - you should really grow up..."

"Benoni bombs - really? You should really grow up!"

"You went to Manhattan? Its really time you grew up!" "

Yes - some of this good advice and mind you most of it general concern for another's well being - however (and this is the kicker) this still doesn't change the fact that we often have the most fun doing the things we normally wouldn't/shouldn't be doing i.e. all of the above.

In my quest for fun and result of my undeniable FOMO (fear of missing out) I give you the coup de gras of thought processes which you can unashamedly reply in your head or out loud to make you feel better in a situation like this...

"Why don't you grow down!"

It will cleanse you of your guilt in an instant I assure you, however I can't promise it will help the next morning or when your outlandish behaviour becomes the object of discussion at your workplace after your Christmas Party and the news of the punch downing competition and late night skinny dipping with Debbie from Accounts leaks at the water cooler... but that's neither here nor there...

So its this Mantra I will hold onto in 2011 (within reason - remember we are now tried as adults in the court of law not minors) and the substance that I hope to share, discuss point-out, urge, photograph, advise, complain, laugh about, recount embarrassing situations and document some nuances in the crazy life we lead... particularly in my home city - the not quaint - the not quiet - City of Johannesburg.

Welcome to the Fun Side of Life - dont feel bad about coming back...