To get to Alex. I mean, Wynberg (I just can't resist the whole "ALEX" thing... it's like catching a taxi to Orlando, as in: I wish... no white man has ever, so far as I know, ever caught a taxi to Orlando... that's like "end of the line..." in more ways than one... but, I might be wrong, you never know.
Anyway. Back to the start. I gave myself 2.5 hours to do the round journey. This was before I got a call from Tshirt Terrorist's brand manager and entrepreneur extraordinaire Ant Scholte from TheAntsNest.com who was up from Cape Town for business and presently at my place. It was 1 when he called and said he would be at The Ant Cafe in Melville working (no guesses why he would choose this particular venue) so I said I would see him there, with the Ts!
To get to Alex you need to take 2 taxis. The first taxi, jumping on halfway, is one that travels from Cresta to Wanderers. Wanderers is not the cricket ground, I made that inaccurate assumption once, but a small street running off Plein Street, about three blocks away from Noord Street Rank. I don't like Noord Street. It is like Bree Street Rank except slightly more seedy, and in the open, which therefore feels less controlled by the taxi mob. The mob, the Bosses, keep the ranks clear of Tsotsis, so that commuters can travel the system, can feed it. Noord Street has always struck me as a dodgy haunt, but the taxi to Alex leaves from here. I don't know exactly where but I'm going to find out.
The funny thing is, when you catch a car midday, as I was doing now, the taxi driver often doesn't haul ass as he would through traffic during the rush hours. When the roads are calm so is he, cruising along slowly for tabs, hooting all the while to catch the heads up on potential fares. In other words it took about 45 mins to get to Wanderers from Melville. I asked him on route whether he knew where I could catch a taxi to Alex (iow: Wynberg, Sandton, along Louis Botha) and he said, yeah, he would show me. This amounted to pointing me in the vague direction of Noord Street Rank after depositing me on Wanderers Street. So much for that plan. I began my three block walk through the middle of Jozi.
When I travel taxis, especially routes I am not sure of, I make myself vaguely vagrantish. I don't shave, take off all bling, and keep it simply jeans and a Tshirt. Sometimes I test out my Tshirts, to see how offensive they really are, by running them through Bree Street Rank to see if I get a response. I would never do this through Noord though. I just don't feel that comfortable with the rank, or the people in it.
I make it to Noord though, trailing school kids and others, and head immediately for the far end... rows 2 - 4 where I once caught a taxi for a week through to Balfour Park, which is also on Louis Botha, on route to Alex. The best way to find out what car goes where is to either ask the line bosses, the guys who usher people into taxis, and get paid about R5.00 per taxi that leaves the rank, or to ask the passengers inside a taxi, the theory being they generally know where it's heading. On this occasion I head up to a dude who looks of passing importance and he fucking ignores me. Can you believe it? I must be white. Well, it takes about 5 mins of walking around getting told no this taxi no this one, no, man, this one, (which was the last one which wasn't the right one) before I get handed back to the guy who originally ignored me. His taxis go to Alex. I get in. Go figure.
The journey to Alex... hahaha... you know what I mean, would have been uneventful were it not for the driver stopping just outside Hillbrow for petrol... The Hillview Service Station, a regular fucking dive with apparently either no working pumps or working attendants because the driver had to reverse a few times and find a new pump. Now, I have no idea how he got this right but the driver had rigged some sort of ringtone effort to his reverse gear. You know how trucks make this incessant beeping racket when they reverse well, try this out. This 'ringtone' (I thought at first it was an unanswered cellphone) was a high-and-low-pitched recorded baby's wail... WAAAAH waahwaah... WAAAAH waahwaah... WAAAAH waahwaah... you get the picture.... This guy spent at least 5 minutes in reverse, then forward shifting, then back into reverse, and all the time, from somewhere behind and to the left, WAAAAH waahwaah. It stopped when he went forward and began again when he reversed. It damn near drove me ape.
WAAAAH waahwaah SHUTUP! WAAAAH waahwaah SHUTUP but of course I could not do that.
We got out of that bullshit situation thankfully and once more I was heading out to Wynberg, the scruffy ass-end factory district of the otherwise trendy and dolled-up Sandton. I jumped at the corner of Ark Wright and Louis Botha, just before the robots changed, and made my way down to my printers.
Someone ordered a Tshirt off my site. Low and behold a fucking miracle. But seriously, I wasn't expecting this T to sell... DOOS... it means: you cunt! or asshole! in afrikaans counter culture but really what it means is "box" so the design is effectively a cardboard box going ta-ra! and the guy wearing the Tshirt can advertise himself as a real piece of work, or advertise a "friend" as that real piece of work, if he doesn't want to wear the T himself. On my site you can buy the T and send it to someone else. I will then say, some guy thinks you're a DOOS, so we have bombed you with this Tshirt. Enjoy! I am not sure into which particular category this sale fits in, but as the guy ordered an XL I'm pretty sure he can deal with either wearing it himself or handing it out to some other doos.
I collect the Ts without too much hassle, discuss my brand with the owner of the printing concern some, then make my slow way back to the main arterial taxi route - Louis Botha Street. I really despise factory districts. It seems I have been ploughing through them, heading to or from taxis, for a long time now, ever since I started making Ts. There's dust and dirt everywhere, and people wandering around, and trucks and trucks and a few more trucks... just fucking trucks everywhere and me, walking through this to get to a taxi.
I was on a bit of a high though, having just collected Ts. Something like that does this to you. The journey from design to finished product for a small T company like mine is an amazing and very personal experience. I am way stoked, and feel good travelling back up through Orange Grove, passed Yeoville and Hillbrow, back into town.
Passed Noord street I jumped out and ran/ walked/ eyes-down looking for change, to outside the MTN butchery. MTN, not the mobile network, although their branded colours are similar to the MTN Jack Mincer Rank (Noord Street) across the way... but MTN - Meat Too Nice! (Can you believe that shit?) They name a butchery in such a sucky way to play on the larger branding across the road which means you're effectively left with a bull on a fading yellow background glaring at you with fading red eyes going, Meat Too Nice! Fuck me. I see a taxi that's heading to Bree and now I'm in a hurry cos not only is Ant waiting me at the Ant (and he's a busy guy but it has been almost two hours since we spoke) but I think I have picked up a printing fault on the Tshirt, and I can't exactly start checking this out in the car... this is low key stuff, this jumping cabs, you can't reel your reputation out as a big wig businessman in this environment and expect respect... you'll just call down all sorts of heat on your ass, so you sit still in your faded jeans and week-old beard waiting to get out Jozi. For some reason everyone else has chosen this taxi to Bree too, it seems. There are mamas struggling to get up into the car trailing helpful, dedicated sons carrying huge bags of goods. This whole process of filing people in takes a lot longer than I would have liked, but once again, like that kid in reverse, I gotta keep my mouth shut and my eyes on the ground, scouring for change. Do Not Fuck With The Locals, white man jumping, Just hold your lid.
I eventually do get back into Melville, convinced the printer has messed up the Ts, but it's all a big misunderstanding, between me, two different designers and the printer designer who eventually had to make a tough call, did so, and seems to have done the right thing. A few things I need to sort out tomorrow but for the most part I am happy, and Ant is happy. Got himself a Doos Tshirt is why... has been keen on one of these for a while now. I didn't ask whether he planned to wear this himself or hand it to some other doos. He told me....
WHITE TAXI, by White Man Jumping
is brought to you by
TSHIRT TERRORIST
www.tshirtterrorist.co.za
Tshirts TO DIE For!
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