Notes from an East London Surf Trip: Part 2

After cruising through the Slum Town countryside on Sunday afternoon, we decided to see the new James Bond flik. Now, I love going to the movies, but the ticket and food prices are absurd. My dad has always felt this way about movie theatres and I see his point. "Twelve bucks for movies AND pop corn! Are you buying mandrax? Don't lie to me Bugs, we can help you," I remember him saying when I was in Standard 7 or so.

Strangely though, I feel like a junkie standing in line, fidgeting nervously, waiting to pay almost fifty bucks for coke and popcorn— especially since a bag of kernels and a box of cola syrup probably cost around R9 each. Next to booze and hard drugs, movie theatre treats must have the highest mark up for retail stock.

I’d consider bringing sandwiches and a bottle of Oros if I wasn’t so sadly hooked on popcorn. I have a terrible problem... It brings out the beast in me. A werewolf transformation takes place the moment salty popcorn touches my gums. I can’t get the next handful in my mouth quickly enough. By the time the trailers are done I’ll be half way through my second box. Twenty minutes into the movie I’ll have my cell phone out, using the light to help me put together 20 bucks in bronzies for a fresh box of the good stuff. And screw sharing. I’m a complete pig about it. Even if I’m on a first date, I’ll gladly buy a separate box so that I don’t have to share. When I'm finished my own box I'll steal from hers, too.

Its people like me that keep theatre owners selling treats for a small fortune. Bringing a packed meal to the movies is a far more affective act of protest than whining about the prices I gladly pay… there, I’m done ranting.

On the way back from East London this morning Zok and I stopped in Port Alfred again— this time to surf. It was a welcome break from the heat inside our air conditioner-less vehicle, which was starting to feel like an incinerator on wheels. We had East Beach to ourselves for a good forty minutes before a few locals joined. I managed to take a few pictures before my camera died, but it’s a crying shame I missed Zach’s barrel early on in the session. After getting thrown over the falls twice in a row, Zok stroked into a beast and set his line perfectly. The boytjie’s barrel was so sick it needed medical treatment.