So there I was, squashed in the back seat of a car among colleagues and friends decked out in their 12-inch shorts while I wore knee-length khakis. Yes, I was on my way to the Jamzone Beach Jam, already regretting my decision to take this journey in the pouring rain.
As we made our way along the Soesdyke-Linden Highway, we came upon a back-up of traffic. What could it be? Great! Just my luck, an accident. So I asked the driver to pull over and I dragged myself out of the car, greeted by a fresh puddle of mud of course – after all, it is ‘my’ day right? So I made my way over in my mud-soaked flip flops to the scene of the toppled car, lying in a ditch. While making my way through the gathering, armed with my Blackberry, (camera/notepad/recorder), still drizzling mind you, and enquired about the accident, I realized that it was not of much interest and so returned to the car, anticipating the sniffles I’m soon to suffer.
After a few minutes more, I finally arrived. Half-naked men, not to
