Squadron and Soda Please or Safari pt. 7

We got back to land and our driver was no where to be seen, so we hoofed it back to camp.  At the head of the camp we came upon a couple of warthogs and so stopped to give a good look.  Interesting fact, when eating off the ground a warthog will lower themselves onto their front knees.  Hand to Christ.  They kneel to eat.  Awesome.  I joked with the others about not feeding them for the fracas that would ensue and snapped a couple of pics and we plodded on.

All of us decided upon a time for dinner and parted ways.  And, as had happened the day before, I opted to just dunk my head in the sink while the others took full showers.  While they were washing I was well into my first beer.  The male Brit former tour leader was next to join me in the bar and we toasted to being in Africa and being awesome.

Around this time I began fretting about my funds.  All the meals and beers I had put on a running tab and I didn’t bring a shit load of Schillings.  Soon enough we were joined by the rest of the squad.  I noticed the new cute Brit girl seated with a friend and a bottle of wine which I used as a conversation starter.

How’s the wine, I asked over my shoulder.

It’s all right, nothing special, she said in an awesome accent.  You wanna try?

I may well get to that.  I was scheming to use my sampling as another seguey into conversation.  How much was it, I asked.

25 thousand.

Not bad.

Nope.

Expect me later.

I returned to the flock and discussions of splitting a bottle had begun.  My potential Schilling shortage silenced me and I snuck away to check on my tab, sampling a sip from the new cute Brit on my way.  In the end I was financially fit and wine was ordered and all was well.

We had wine and time passed.  The new cute Brit and her friend had moved on to cocktails.  Spotting an excuse for interaction I asked about the switch in spirits.  Rum and Coke I was told.  The rum was a local label called Squadron.  And it was fund friendly.  It was Squadron and sodas from then on for me!

Unfortunately my being a polite person prevented any further friendliness with the new cute Brit.  By the time I had untangled from my troupe and asked her if she and her friend would join me for a rum she was readying to leave.  Ah well.  Time is fickle and I had overplayed my cool card.  No harm done.  It was late and I was tipsy so I traipsed off to bed, tomorrow was another adventurous day after all!

NEXT: Pachyderm Pals (swear) or Weariness of Women in the Way