Life's a Beach

It was late on a cold, wintery night, as students crawled out of the shadows of the acclaimed Edward Street, (cue scary music). But, what could the destination of these outlaws be, and what were their intentions?!

No, that was not the trailer for the 100^th Twilight movie or a re-adaptation of the low(est)-budget film, Paranormal Activity, it was merely the story of an unforgettable night (said in a Kenny Rodgers voice). Some facts about that introduction however, remained the same. Like, that it was cold, and that the students crawled (for reasons which shall not be mentioned), but oh, how they did crawl. It was a start to a legendary beach party, without the, sand-in-every-nook-and-crack…I mean cranny, aspect of it.

Every Prestige student and passing stranger, was warmly welcomed by the SRC with glow sticks, glow-in-the-dark face-paint, (applied in fascinating, somewhat Ndebele-like dot patterns), and half-naked people with free, surprisingly potent, jelly shots.

Slowly and against their better judgement, individual students leaped into the fiesta of tropical paper figures, and flower necklaces that transformed Cantina Tequila into a modern-day Hawaii.

Hand a club-full of students a few jam jars or fish bowls, and a good set of dubstep mixes, and you will find yourself on a dance floor filled with “semi-professional modern dancers”, as they like to call themselves. As these inelegantly flexible students, borderline belly-flopped their way between fairly astonished spectators; the SRC couldn’t help but join in!  Thus, we dropped it like it was hot, and shook what our mammas gave us. The deafening music, that awkward moment, when you shout something very personal to you friend just as the music dies, and the strong current of ….uhm…orange juice, did not rain, but POURED, as the clock ticked on.

Other than the moments when you found yourself proudly lip-singing the wrong words to a song you thought you knew, and dancing back-to-back with a stranger you thought was a classmate,  the night was enjoyed by all, including the few that thought it was a Bar Mitzvah gone wild (don’t ask!).

To conclude: Thank you to those who were honest enough to tell a friend that he/ she had no swagger, and that it was in their best interests to leave the dance floor, or those who simply returned a hug from that stranger that mistook them for a long-lost sibling. But most of all, thanks to the SRC. Not only did they organise, and fiercely market the shebang, but they actually took some time to join us in… well…TO THE WINDOWS (TO THE WINDOWS), TO THE WALLS (TO THE WALLS), TILL THE…the end.

The Writers

Our Photographer on the left.

DJ Spike.

Face painting.

Written by Stef Maritz.

Thanks to Jaclyn McGregor for taking such rad photies!