A Julie Good Day

I wrote this at the beginning of semester, got high and forgot to upload it. Have a blast.

A Julie Good Day

I almost always wake up with no clue whatsoever on how the day will go. You’re probably thinking, ‘dang doesn’t everyone?’  So, I’ll rephrase that. Do you ever stay in bed till mid-morning simply because you’re not sure whether you want to eat, watch TV, listen to loud music or check your Facebook/twitter timeline?

If your answer is yes, please get your shit together and get a life.

Indecision is what I’m made of.  I never plan because hey, life’s supposed to be a roll. Besides, indecision breeds flexibility. And this particular morning, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to travel to K’la or Jinja. I lazed in bed for over four hours weighing the pros and cons. Then I remembered it was supposed to be the first day of semester.

Arrgh

I decided the best thing to do would be to drag my lazy ass out of bed and into the shower for starters. I dressed up, got my backpack and J.R. Tolkien’s 1000 page Lord of the Rings hard paper back novel. With no inkling whatsoever on my destination, I asked mum for transport (which is just a nicer way to ask for up keep). She handed me a wad of notes which I didn’t bother to count. Because the last time I counted my PM, I was so heartbroken that I decided to head to my room, unpack and chill in my drawers. Which broke mum’s heart—which broke my heart all over again.

But none of that could have possibly prepared me for the female rollercoaster I was about to ride. I reached the station and decided to ditch a bus and use a coaster for once because;

·         I have beef with those Elgon Flyer Bus guys for refusing to transport my baby sister’s mountain bike in time for her umpteenth birthday. I later realized her BD isn’t until September. But I’ll probably forget again since she’s not yet on Facebook. Happy birthday in advance Tracy!

·         However much I concentrate and pray, I always choose a seat number next to that of a fat woman, obese man and/or breastfeeding mother of seven…make that eight.

·         The coaster looked full. A cursory look later indicated that they were just goons paid 200 shilling coins to make it look that way.

Who cares? I was in no rush. As I fumbled with my novel, she walked in and sat right next to me. Well, that was a first…let the ignorance begin. Wait, does that—does ignorance also refer to that moment when you don’t give a fuck about someone’s presence? Anyway, I’m a specialist at it, whatever it’s called. Sometimes I turn on the TV and radio simultaneously just to get that awesome feeling that I’m ignoring something/someone. Plus I didn’t pass on my tall genes so I doubted she’d fancy me but whaddayaknow!

She handed me a PK mint and that commercial just played in my head like—LET’S GET CLOSERR…

She was a nice girl and should I tell you how I know? Because she’s generous that’s why; I mean how many times have you met a girl willing to share a PK? Not never! So already, the thoughts in my mind started running along the lines of, ‘man, I would go to church for this girl.’ Yeah, that sounds off so when the journey started, I noticed she was doing that nodding disease thing that people do when they’re trying to fight sleep. Before I could stop myself, I was saying;

-          Are you sleepy?

-          N-No, I’m just a bit tired that’s all.

-          Sorry…well you could rest on my lap for a few minutes.

-          I don’t think—

-          No, it’s okay. Trust me.

I quickly put the backpack on my lap and for a moment I thought she’d laugh it off. She didn’t. Instead she calmly lay on my lap.

No way!

You think I’m lying? Well me too! But trust me, if you wanted to get lied to, you could have just turned on the television. I find it easier to talk to strangers. Matter of fact, it’s easier for me to ask a girl I’ve never met before for her bra size than telling a girl I’ve known for some time that I like her new hair-do.

I was enjoying every bump that we hit but apparently the coaster wasn’t. I didn’t notice the whole interior was filled with smoke until all the passengers started shouting and she woke up. The engine had over heated. Sadly, we had to disembark. It was until we stood outside that I realized it wasn’t a passenger service vehicle. It was a kindergarten coaster. That would have been okay save for the fact that it was called, ‘Train up a Child Kindergarten!’ How people think up these names will forever remain a mystery to mankind. What was worse is that this Train-up-Bullshit thing couldn’t go any further.

Holy Crap

I used this opportunity to get to know the girl.

-          So, what’s your name?

-          Julie, you?

-          Romeo.

-          Seriously? You’re lying!

-          Seriously, I’m not. So, what do you do?

-          I’m doing *oba what I don’t remember* at Kyambogo.

-          That’s cool. So what’s good at Kyambogo, if I want to visit?

-          Nothing—depends on what you like…

-          I like you for starters (she rolls her eyes). Seriously…

-          Hmm…ok.

She had this thing where her hair falls into her eyes and she always laughs as she brushes it away. She was dressed decently. Maybe too decently…it was like she had sold her soul to Beelzebub to get clothes because there was so little skin if you know what I mean.

All this got me a confusing boner.

While we were getting cute and shit, we didn’t notice that the conductor had been dragged to a nearby police station. The journey had officially run amuck and he was told to pay a fine and refund our dime. Unfortunately, the motherfucker gave me and Julie 10k. Five each. Which was like half what we both needed but I wasn’t in the mood for bargaining so I just let the girl have it all. Stupid?

Maybe

But no worries, since she wrote her number on my arm—somehow that sounds cooler than just saying, ‘she gave me her number…’

I decided to go to Jinja since I’d have some change for a pint or two when I reached. I hit the bar with the plan of playing the ‘help me, I’m poor’ drink pick up line. But I needn’t have bothered. I met another girl at the pool table and (wait for it), she was also called Julie! Except (mbu) married and an ardent fan of the devil’s nectar. Anyway she bought my humor and got me a drink and a couple of pool games.

It was a Julie good day…until I took my jokes a tart too far and got into a scuffle with some high South Sudanese nincompoops.