Them's Fightin' Words

I wasn’t sure if anyone gave two shits that I was flying up to the Big Smoke awhile back for my 10 year highschool reunion, so I never wrote a follow-up post saying what it was actually like.

Since writing that post though no less than three of my regular readers have asked me what went down so I figured I owed it to them to give a full account of the sheer insanity, the mind-bendingly twisted and life-alteringly fucked up shit that went down that night.

So pull up a chair, this post’s gonna leave you a changed person…

Cool, still here? Rad, sorry for the over-dramatic intro, the reunion wasn’t all that life-changing but I’m glad you clicked the link cause there was one funny thing that happened that night that bares repeating.

To be perfectly honest, I enjoyed the Friday night I spent up in Jozi way more than the actual reunion night itself on Saturday. I just kicked back at my good buddy Peggles’ place while a whole host of my Joburg buddies came by and we spent the night getting rat-faced at his flat and playing darts.

It was just good times. One of those waypoints on the road that is life where you get to catch up with old buddies and knock back a few tequilas, swap a few war stories and enjoy one another’s company.

Come Saturday, Peggles and I were driving to the reunion asking one another why the hell we had decided to go in the first place. We already knew exactly what it was going to be like – all the guy who never left Joburg crammed into one venue getting good and wasted and asking each other the same damn questions all night.

Which was pretty much exactly what happened. But strangely enough I really enjoyed it. Mostly because a lot of the guys had embarrassingly boring stories and were content to just listen to me babbling on all night about myself, which seemed to be going down really well.

What was fucking sick though was the fact that there were guys there who I literally haven’t spoken to in 10 years who not only know about this site, but read it regularly. Then there were the moments of pure win when I told one or two people that I write this site and they were like “YOU’RE SlickTiger?! Fuck bro, I LOVED that klapping gym post!”

Well, I say pure win, but obviously they hardly read the site or they would have seen the pictures I sporadically post of myself and made the connection sooner, but hey, at least I’m known for something.

Then, BEST part of the evening by far, was when a good buddy of mine walks up to me and says, “Cornelius dude, I gotta share this with you man,” (not my real name, but let’s just roll with this one…).

“So we’re having a conversation about how some of the guys here are clearly talking themselves up a little to sound more important than they are.”

“Sure,” I replied, “that’s a given, right?”

“So one of the guys turns around and is like ‘Ja, a lot of okes are doing that. I mean Cornelius is walking around telling everyone he’s SlickTiger!”

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Too fucking funny I tells ya! THAT made the whole trip worth it, what a chop.

But I dunno, I’m not sure my life would have been that different had I not gone, so maybe let that be a lesson to anyone considering attending their 10 year reunion.

It’s going to be exactly the way you think it’s going to be.

Just pray when yours rolls around they stock the bar better than they did for ours – one hour in and all the tequila and Jagermeister was finished and at 1.00 on the knuckle they rang for last rounds and sent us all home.

If I could go back in time I definitely would have still gone, but not without first ingesting a LOT of acid.

Now THAT would have been a fun party

-ST