Survival of the Wittest

Joburg is a tough terrain. Its climate is harsh, with dry, skin crackly winters, and hot, lightningy summers.

Traffic is an every day opportunity for each of us to lose our lives. (and minds)

The crime rate can be a problem. Especially for anyone living in the North, South or East…or Pretoria and the neighboring cities and suburbs .

To top it all off, straight men in this city are few and far between. And if they aren’t complete jocks… they are gay. Or struggling musos in a hard core band.

Girls in this city need to be at LEAST a 9 to catch their eye…alternatively, they could also be boys.

See? Its tough! In fact, its enough to drive one to drink…

BUT, sadly…even that one little pleasure is now becoming impossible for us to enjoy.

Unless you have a dedicated, 24 hour wingperson who abstains from alcohol and drugs…or you are willing to sleep in prison, drinking on a night out is something you should not attempt.

JMPD (or Johannesburg Metro Police Department) (or Pigs…but don’t say that because it is quite obviously racist. Obviously! Pfffft!! ALL cops are pink! No wait, ALL pigs are brown? No, that’s not right either?? Mmm… Ok.)

THEY are the ruiners of fun we need to start blaming!

Ok ok, yes, their roadblocks save countless lives by getting drunk drivers off the road and locking them up for one full night…or perhaps just scaring them by driving them to the nearest ATM and accepting a “donation” of 200 bucks.

BUT tonight I experienced them first hand… TWICE! And I hadn’t been drinking, which I’m grateful for AND I didn’t get offered the opportunity to “donate” to their fund…once again, grateful.

In fact I was dead sober as I was on the way home from work. It was approximately 9pm and I was enjoying a much anticipated hotdog.

Here’s how it all went down:

Cop pulls me over.

Unfortunately, I have a natural guilt-complex which means that the second that shiny little light of his tiny little torch shone into my eyes, I started to doubt my own innocence!

I shudder to think what would happen if I were ever to be cross-examined in a murder case! I would absolutely break down and just confess my sin…completely ignoring the fact that I was in NO way responsible for the death of the deceased and was not even in the COUNTRY at the time of the death.

Anyway…

I open my window…quite obviously inviting him to stick half his torso into my car and rest there while asking me the following questions.

Cop: “Do you drink alcohol?”
Me: (WHAT is the correct answer here???) (My mind flicks back through all the wisdom I’ve gained over the years: Always go to bed with clean feet in case you have a seizure in your sleep and need to be rushed to hospital and you have some weird paramedics that look at the underside of your feet while trying to resuscitate you… No, that’s no use. Don’t cut veggies on the same cutting board as raw chicken for fear of salmonella… Mmm…very sound advice, but no, not exactly relevant here. Um…I know there must be something useful here somewhere… Ah yes! Honesty is the best policy!)
So…
Me:”Yes?”
Cop:(Leans even further into my car and is now almost ON my lap and speaking directly to the space right between my eyeballs) “How many have you had?”
Me:”NO! Not TONIGHT! I thought you meant, like in GENERAL?! I’m on the way back from work now.”

See, the problem here, was that even though he had good intentions of being a successful Metro Cop and will possibly have a long and prosperous career in this field…he has a somewhat limited grasp of the english language. You see “Do you drink alcohol?” does not translate to “Have you consumed any alcoholic beverages in the past 8 hours?”
He let me off with a friendly wave (after removing his upper body from my lap, obviously)

Not even 500m down the road… They strike again! JMPD were in full force on Malibongwe on the Braai Day.

A lady Cop pulls me over and after inspecting my drivers says,

“Roos, (at this point I’m relieved to find evidence of her reading ability) where are you from?”

Mmm… I immediately suspect this to be some sort of tactic to catch me out. Get me into a conversation and perhaps you’ll catch me slurring…

“Well, originally from Kempton Park but I’m currently living just…”

“No! Where are you from NOW?”

Ah, so in English the question would have been:

“Where are you on the way from?”

Me:”Oh, I’m on the way from work, at Mnet”

Lady Cop:”Were you drinking alcohol at work?”

Obviously she is joking. (Right?)

I retaliate with a joke of my own

“I wish I was drinking at work, but no”

She let’s me go too.

I think that was a pretty successful brush with the law. Twice.

So the lesson here kids, is:

Always remain sober enough to decipher what the cops are trying to ask you. And if you must, crack a joke.

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2 responses to “Survival of the Wittest

  1. Hahaha! Very funny to read! Thank you! 🙂

  2. Babe …. English a lost language ….. Maybe you have to have partake in a few bevies to actually understand the JMPD ….. Therein lies the dilemma !

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