aside Big Daddy Bae’s festive period: Escapade #1

Big Daddy Bae has always been a classy guy….everybody knows this.

So it is no surprise that he was booked  at Sunbird Mount Soche in the days between Xmas and New year’s eve…because you know: it’s just how he rolls…(if I am to be completely  honest ndinapitirako zanchito but that’s not important here…aku vephi kukugonesa full board ku hotel ndi chi modzimodzi kuzigonesa wekha…shupiti)

Anyway , Dear reader you are here to read about that experience  (as part 1  of Big Daddy Bae’s  festive period’s sojourns)….mwina enanu can catch a glimpse of the glitz and glamour of Mpambira Aubrey Kambewa’s celebrity life:

 

‘Check in’ was on tuesday the 27th (day after boxing day), but before then I decided grace ‘zodesa’ complex , mwina ndikumwako uwiri and find an audience of Blantyre people capable of being impressed kuti ‘Big Daddy Bae is in town but not relying on a friend for malo ogona but rather putting up at Mount Soche Hotel.

kany

Surely enough I got at zodesa and was quickly recognized by a couple of Blantyre friends who after detecting the distinguished vibe around me invited yours truly to where they had camped.

After I had sanctified my presence with a round of drinks and a plate of Linunda for our assemblage, the vultures started to enquire about my presence in the commercial city and my plans there:

 

To which I humbly notified them of my room allocation at the 4 star establishment that is Mount Soche…and purposely left out the part about being there for work. This had the desired effect and sure enough I was soon giving out financial and professional counseling to everyone there monga afana ogona pa hotela…I was manifesting my innermost  ‘Henry Kachaje’ and ‘Vieson Thawani’  and everyone was intent on my every word, listening and taking mental notes….mwina nawoso nkuzagonako ku hotel time yina yake.

Two hours and 12 thousand Kwacha later I found myself running out of cliché life instructions and money to feed my disciples intellectually and alcoholically, thus I took my leave of them (making up a lie about being due for a skype call with Tie Glean…something to do with me being in the organizing committee for his upcoming Brak-lie-no new year’s party…just to complete the picture yokuti ine zinthu zikundijamira heavy)

 

Smarting from the spending of the 12 grand I had used at Zodesa but feeling contended with the new found respect I had inspired from my friends I got to Mount Soche:

I got out of the car….and quickly headed towards the reception area.

At the door I was greeted by a troupe of doormen who quickly profiled my Ray bands sunglasses and Lacoste golf shirt then concluded that I wasn’t a first timer. They proceeded to crowd around me requesting to carry my bags for me and hitting me with ‘good day sir, welcome back’ ‘its been a long time sir’ ‘how was your flight?’ ndi zina zotero, I almost felt like giving autographs…this is what Busy Signal must feel like whenever he is here(I thought to myself).

 

I was ushered to the reception desk where a smiling Naomi (from her name tag) greeted me and advanced to walk me through my check in procedure…busy asking me personal questions like ‘if I had a passport’ ‘If I wanted a smoking or non-smoking room’ ‘if I would require assistance in case of an emergency..’ blah blah blah….i think she just wanted my penis.

Still  my ‘busy signal experience’ continued when after I had finished checking in , another slut by the name of Chitsanzo (also from her name tag) forced a glass of juice into my hand (without my consent I must add) and then suddenly all eyes in the lobby where on me as if everyone was silently chanting ‘Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!’

I paused for a moment because all the meat and beer I had recently devoured from zodesa  had made my stomach sensitive…so putting juice into the mix might accelerate something undesirable.

But fortune and fame come with sacrifice, so I quickly gulped the contents of the glass down.

After which a Bellboy (whatever they call those people who carry your bags) picked up my bags and led me to the elevator…I was assigned to room 421(smoking) on the fourth floor.

When we got to the room I felt compelled to tip Sam the bellboy (also from his name tag) and I’ve always seen people in movies tossing coins stylishly to bellboys as a token of appreciation, hence I fumbled into my pockets and fished out a K10 coin which I then earnestly offered to Sam…but he must be an unappreciative son of a bitch because unlike in the movies he did not joyously receive my donation with gusto but rather looked at me in disgust and uttered the Chichewa words ‘koma zokuonera adha?’…which caught me off guard as we had been conversing in English all along plus he had been addressing me as ‘sir’..

 

Now nobody and I mean no one calls out Big Daddy Bae in his own hotel room…so I gave him my meanest and leanest ‘Nyopako aise’ and shut the door in his face.

soc

Then I quickly arranged my belongings and surveyed the room settings. My eyes quickly wandered to the bedside where there was placed a complementary plate of cookies which I configured is meant to be eaten there and then.

I quickly ingested the snack and as soon as the last bit was down beyond my throat….m’mimba muja munazalowa fifth gear and I knew I had to dash to the lavatory as soon as possible.

 

I quickly stripped down naked (don’t ask me why…but just know kunyera uli mbulanda makes a difference…try it) and rushed into the bathroom.

Three minutes later I was left heartbroken: I had been  expecting a good dense shit but all I got was a couple of simultaneous acidic farts.

Moral of the story is: shit does not happen in expensive places!

 

The end

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