Hanging Out At The Boardwalk

The Information Super Highway of Port Elizabeth is a force to be reckoned with. It matches the Internet in terms of speed, but is beyond machines or electricity— it’s in our minds. When someone tells a story in PE, people ask “who?” first, because odds are they know who it’s about. That kind of response is preprogrammed and carried through generations. Science can’t match it.

It was business as usual when word got out about the demolition of Sea Acres Holiday Resort, a popular caravan park/ holiday bungalow jol facing Hobbie Beach. I heard they were going to build the first Space Exploration Centre there, or a skate park and a church, or just a big statue of Nelson Mandela. No one knew for months, but the guessing game got outrageous. “No man, they’re building a water park,” Kendrick Steiner, a famous tall story teller from school, told me, “The biggest slide’s going to be as high as the Campanile… that’s what they’re going to call it- Campanile Water Park. Ja, and there’s going to be a Great White pool, where trainers will make those unholy bastards jump through hoops like they do with dolphins at Sea World. I swear, my dad told me this stuff. He’s not a liar.”

Eventually it became known that PE would be getting a Casino complex, one that would match the fire power of Cape Town’s V and A Waterfront and Jo Burg’s Century City. They would call it, ‘The Boardwalk’. Jussie, I was excited. Everything was going to change once the Boardwalk was finished. It was going to put us on the map. We’d get more bands coming to PE, for starters. “Brian Adams and Westlife can get lost. I heard Metallica and U2 are coming to the Boardwalk’s opening NIGHT,” said Kendrick, after hearing about the casino.

I was in Matric when the doors to The Boardwalk opened, and found myself having a great year so far. High school was almost over, I’d made the EP senior surfing team, I was old enough to drink (after getting bounced from every pub in PE until I turned 18), I got my drivers license (3rd time lucky) and I was hopelessly in Love with a girl living near my house. She was beautiful, kind and fun. She smiled and my knees wobbled. Every time I spoke to her I mutated into a ham fisted moron who couldn’t speak or sit still.

It was on a rare August afternoon that I came up with a plan to show her I was cool. The sun was baking down after school, without a breath of wind in the air (a complete freak show for PE). I had a three part plan that looked masterful on paper: pick her up in Blou Bliksem (my 1981 VW), go to Humewood beach for a swim (where I could show off my amazing body surfing skills) and then hit The Boardwalk for an ice cream afterwards. What could be simpler?

I summoned my older brother before setting off. He sorted me out with a pair of his shorts and some Lenny Kravitz shades. “Just be careful, Bugs, those shorts have a tricky zipper.” Sure thing. These words would come back to haunt me.

Back to the story though. Phase one and two of my plan went swimmingly, so to speak.
I managed to get Blou Bliksem to the beach without stalling or getting lost. At the beach, we frolicked and splashed each other in the shallows; we spoke and laughed like old friends who’d known each other since time began. She smiled at me and I managed not to die. I was higher than a homeless man with a liter of petrol and cabana bottle of sniffing glue.

By the time phase 3 of my operation was underway, we were holding hands on a regular basis. All that was left was The Boardwalk.

***

Dulce’s is a good 200 meters (or so, I suppose) away from the parking of The Boardwalk. On a sunny day at The Boardwalk, you pass another person every second step. In the Boardwalk’s first month of business, almost every person in PE was there, daily, to check out the amazing new structure that was going to liberate PE from its reputation as a mechanics village.

To say that I was proud while walking beside this amazing young lady would be a gross understatement. I was moonwalking next to her. As we passed a host of onlookers I got funny looks from older patrons and their young ones. I just assumed that the funny grin on my face was unsettling to people.

We had our ice creams and marched through the complex hand in hand, admiring the accomplishments of PE’s architects. It was only once we were ready to leave that I heard sniggers coming from a group of teenagers nearby.

As we passed them, I wondered out loud, “what were they laughing at?” As the words left my mouth, something HORRIBLE became evident, and my brother’s words of warning rang clear in my head.
I looked down and saw (to my awkward 18 year old horror) that my zipper was all the way down, and my entire package was hanging out.
Now, there are moments when something is so terrifying that is silences you. It’s a whole new ballgame when you freak out and scream in terror. I let my Love’s hand go, on impulse, and ran to Blou Bliksem, wailing Blue Murder, where it would take me a good 20 minutes to explain my actions. Like I said earlier, she was fun and kind, so she found it quite funny, but I sure as hell struggled to stomach the incident for a while.

The next day at school, Kendrick Steiner was telling a new story that went something like, “Jussie ous, did you hear about Trussie streaking through The Boardwalk yesterday? Security had to escort him in handcuffs, after they bust him harassing an old lady! By the way, who’s up for Roxette on Friday? I heard Brian Adams is opening for her.”