Stitches, staples and a pocket full of dreams

I write this with both a feeling of trepidation and with a sense of guilt.

Some of you will know “some” of the details and for others, this is the very abridged version of what happened this passed weekend, yes, the Bachelors.

Friday night started and proceeded without a hitch. In between proposing to a n exotic dancer named “Natalia” and tussling with a fence, the Bachelors group – well, those who were together enough to carry themselves from one venue to the next – moved to our next venue, which in hind sight wasn’t the best idea ever. Over the next couple of hours there were two sets of incidents that seemed to over shadow what the Friday night, Part 1, as it has become known. The 1^st Part came as a bit of a shock to me because the truth is; I haven’t a clue how it unfolded. From walking off the dance floor to landing up on my back in the middle of the club, supposedly I was libertied (and for all you non-South African readers, a “liberty” is the term given to the action of hitting someone when they aren’t looking or expecting it). Now, these are all “semi-confirmed” reports from the rest of the Bachelors gang on the night. I exited the dance floor and was hit from nowhere.

Okay, so I'm not missing any teeth...but damn, it's sore.

When I came to, I was dealt a rather nasty gash to the chin and it was decided that I should go to the hospital to have stitches, which I drunkenly agreed to. We exited the club and while waiting for our taxi, the “fine” gentlemen who we seemed to have upset earlier in the club and who were subsequently removed from the club because of their fist slinging ways were waiting for us – 10-12 of them this time – between the 6 of us, we were dealt, 1 set of bruised ribs, 1 torn MCL ligament, 14 stitches and 4 staples – most of the external embroidery landed up in my possession. I know, right? Tow-truck drivers? Whatcha gona do? There was no fight…they hit, we defended and got hurt, they ran. The end.

I walked out of Morningside Hospital at around 05:30 Saturday morning with 7 stitches to my jaw and 4 staples to the back of my head. Don’t ask how they got there, all I know is that they’re there. What did we do? Nothing. What could we have done? Reported it to the Police, in our state? Yah, sure…it would have looked like something like the “Hotel check in scene” from “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”, I’d rather Pass Go and collect $200, thank you. If you’re wondering how I am right now, I’m fine…a little swollen and some mild bruising, but otherwise I’m quite fine. Stitches and staples come out on Wednesday and then the real healing can begin. I have booked myself in for some trauma counseling and I have joined a support group for men who need to HTFU! Please! I’m fine! To be honest, this isn’t the first time I’ve been slammed for no good reason, but this has definitely been the most serious case. It’s kind of laughable now, wasn’t then, but it is now…so it’s okay!

Oh yes…I’m open to random acts of kindness to ease my pain in the next couple of weeks, so ladies, feel free to sign up at the bottom of the post, and please…don’t hold back on the loving!

Go now and die for your beer...

We awoke on Saturday morning to behold what can only be called, a scene from Apocalypse Now, bodies strewn across every available comfortable surface we could find at one of the groomsmen’s abode. Let’s just say, no one was really very chirpy. 3 cups of coffee, 4 cigarettes later and we were off again – Part 2 – Booze, braai, buddies and a dam is all it took to turn 10 sad looking Vietnam Veterans into young, strapping privates who had just been drafted into the war on beer and all things alcoholic. We were again, ready for “War”. Part 2 was brilliant. Unfortunately I’m not going to divulge into too much detail here as no one was seriously injured, hurt or killed in the making of this…um…I mean quiet evening.

All in all, bruises, stitches and staples in tow…was it worth it? Yes.

Would I change anything? Yes! Although I could do without the extra appendages.

Did I have fun? Of course. It’s a little ironic that after the sabbatical I had away from the drink lead me to this point and yes, it is a little funny and many a colleague has already laughed at my expense, so please, feel free to toss your head back and have a good ol’ chuckle, because it is funny, even if it is at my expense!

So, what’s next, well…Project 10 has officially been sworn in as the ultimate bandage and out with the bad and in with the good will continue. Did I cheat my diet over the weekend? Regretfully, I did. Not out of choice mind you…there are very few things that could have stayed the kind of hangover and pain I felt both Saturday and Sunday mornings. Trust me. It hasn’t hindered my progress nor has it brought back any uncontrollable cravings, so I think I’ll be okay for now. Honestly, the thought of coming back to Project 10 felt like I was returning to “normality”, if that makes sense? I know a lot of you think that my eating habits might be a little extreme, but looking back on the Weekend of Satan’s Spawn, I can honestly protest that all of the crap I drank and ingested over the weekend…any normal person could do without. Fast food just doesn’t make sense anymore other than to form part of a dietary dependence, laziness and convenience. Fizzy drinks, well, okay…I still like those, but that’s only because I love to burp. *kidding*

Just so appropriate.

I could go on and on, internalizing this all until there is nothing left to hold on to, so I’ve made it easy on myself to summarize the weekend and it’s pros and cons, with 5 easy questions:

Do you know who you are?

Yes, I am David Alves. Writer, Geek and Social Media’s Last Rolo.

Did you have fun?

Yes.

Do you have any regrets?

No.

Are you continuing with Project 10?

Yes.

What did you learn?

That it’s okay to let you hair down, just not your guard.