A good friend of mine told me this story:
He attended a stag-party in his honour, or dishonour, a few days before getting married. The town where he lived was next to the Vaalriver, one of South Africa’s largest rivers. Dotted all along the river are hotels, camps and picnic areas and it was in one of these picnic area that this stag-party took place.
The party was organized by his work-friends, people who I can conclusively say, were a ragtag bunch of misfits who liked drinking way too much but had hearts of gold. My wife calls them instrumentation-hooligans to this day. The day started with them grabbing my friend, as he left the gates of the steel mill where they worked, and chaining a heavy steel ball to his legs. Added to the ball were safety glasses, blackened out with only small peepholes left in the middle. On his feet he had to wear steel toe safety shoes with no laces and no clothes barring a rag to cover his family jewels. Thick black grease was used to sculpt his hair into a universally unrecognized style. Needless to say, he must have been a sorry sight to behold.
The first travel part of all this was a 25 minute drive to the picnic spot. They used a pickup truck for this and had him chained onto the back off it. After driving through town and parading him through a few malls and bumping into the mayor’s wife, they reached the picnic spot just after dark. This part of the story consisted of lots of alcohol being used and abused, as well as several pathetically bad attempts to get a barbeque (braai), fire started.
My friend’s father in law to be, being a wise old owl, decided to collect him from the party at around 23H00 that night. I suppose he did not want a drunk as a skunk man to marry his daughter two days later. For some reason he decided to not use his own new car for the collection, but used his wife’s blue Volkswagon Beetle for the job. By the time he arrived the whole lot were so overly friendly and drunk that they did not even realize that the star of the party was being removed from amongst them.
That night my friend slept in the workroom of his father in law to be and with very good reason. It was clear that he reeked of sweat, grease and an assortment of cheap liquor. To try and get him clean in that state would have required a miracle and more patience that any normal man could muster at that time of night.
The next morning, the mother and law wanted to use the beetle to get to work and that caused a hell of a commotion to follow. She reached the car, smelled something obscenely puke-worthy and then noticed that the whole outside on the passenger side of the car was stained a funny mix of brown, green en yellow. Her shouting, akin to a street prostitute who did not get paid, was apparently heard all the way down to the local pastor’s house. Later I was told that she also needed special eye-drops as the smell made her eyes go into some sort of malfunction.
The father in law to be, just kept a low profile for the two weeks after the debacle.