Big sweaty hairy men huddled together....

Its nearly time....the rugby seasons approaching!

I love any sport but there's something special about the old game of Rugby. Weekends just arent the same without the screaming and shouting at a TV or best of all the excursion to other cities..........(insert witty first person report of precious experiences here)

A couple of fun loving mates and i decided to see if we could find Bloem and go support or national rugby team against the invading Irish.

After taking as long as possible to leave JHB on Friday we finally hit the open road in a nearly new 3.0 KZTE fresh off the sales floor at Toyota. Now Carl's been driving what could be best described as a Ox wagon with lame oxen for the last year so this new found power was well appreciated by all concerned. The roads were busy and with the nightfall fast approaching Carl finally "let loose" and started to see what the new acquisition could do. 400km and a few near death over-taking manoeuvres we arrived at our lodgings. A youth hostel with 20 steel bunk beds. A stiff bottle or 2 went to waste calming the nerves.

Friday was meant to be a quite night at the resort in preparation for the rugby the next day but It was massive, obviously. I got hammered (unusual) and apparently sparked quite a debate with some of the locals at the resident bar. We had to leave, something about them having to open up early. Somehow managed to find our way back to our palace without breaking anything. We named it a palace because we were originally going to camp!!!!

At some stage while the 6 grown children were preparing to retire for an evening of messy sleep Carl disappeared out into the freezing night mumbling something about the plight of spotted owls in barns all over the world. After a few minutes (somewhere between 1 and 120) i realised that Carl was not around, he wasn't answering my knock-knock jokes.... On closer inspection after falling on his bed, i realised he was not back.
Our palace had a design flaw. It had no bathroom. The closest adequately equipped walled area was about a 10min freezing stumble in a northerly direction. Somehow Carl had managed to overcome the distance and had locked himself in a toilet booth for a quick snooze. Perhaps not the first pissed male to fall asleep on the crapper but definitely the loudest snorrer!

The sun rose on Saturday with the promise of a great game of international rugby and a monster hangover to beat. I had to have a few shots of Tequila to recalibrate myself, this signalled the beginning of a big day. If you thought orange juice and toothpaste was rough try Tequila!
Saturday is a bit of a blur. I thought everyone was drinking when we watched the early game but it turns out it was mainly me. I am rather excitable when England are getting the sh*t kicked out of them, so i proceeded to get rid of the dehydration at an almighty pace.

By the time we got to the stadium in Bloem at 12.30 i was hammered. Bloem's a great place to get hammered, its almost built for it. Friendly corruptible cops, low pavements, big road signs, minimal one ways, tons of "friendly" chicks and of course tolerant, friendly folk embracing change a bit slower than the rest of the country.

We managed to find our way into a fantastic beer garden which was well stocked with allot more supplies and an all women rock band who weren't signing in English, so i didn't have to act like i knew what was going on. I seemed to be attracting allot of attention from the ladies that were present. This was a watershed moment, an epiphany of sorts. I was drunk.

After exploring a large portion of the stadium and toilets we finally found our seats. I watched about 5% of the game, and for that time i screamed for the guys in green which i later found out was Ireland. Didn't we play at home? The rest of the time was spent talking shit and explaining the rules to anyone who would listen. Much to the disgust of all my mates i managed to chat up a girl. Im not sure but i think she was chatting me up actually. (Could be the booze perspective again.) Alas it all amounted to nothing as i couldn't convince the boys to facilitate my destiny and follow her to a bar somewhere in Bloem. After getting over the loss of my future wife i followed the people who looked more familiar than all the other people and continued to drink at a selection of venues carefully selected for their lack of atmosphere.

The final destination turned into a bit of a gem. It had women in it. Ones not wearing rugby clothing! It also had a bar that sold more than just beer!!!!! It was also equipped with a sound system, dance floor and a DJ who was familiar with music post 1982.

After drinking as many Red Bull and vodkas as humanly possible (R13 for a double - someone is getting screwed!) and dancing like a queen for a few hours we left the bright lights of Bloem (after the cuddly one got his burger) for our youth hostel.

Sleep was delayed by recounting some of our funnier moments from the past day and Carl again doing his impression of a walrus procreating, which he cleverly disguises as snoring.
Woke up on Sunday feeling ok. Found no serious wounds. Managed to locate both wallet and cell phone. Found out who had won the rugby. Packed and headed home.

Bring on 2006 with boots and all!