Of sailors and beautiful girls

Do not accuse me, dear reader, of being mundane in my writing seeing as it is I have not delivered any post containing deep issues bent on world enlightenment. I have disappointed you, educated one, for that, my deepest apologies. But sometimes a man must write for the sake of writing,  a man must seek vindication, any where or everywhere, and in writing, even the mundane, lies redemption. So as I sit in my office, my colleague busy watching a movie, the Monday blues tampering with my work morale, I chose to tell you about my Saturday sojourn in the confines of a bar in Hurlingham called Sailors. I do so not because my Saturday was better than most but because of an aspect of this place that appealed to my fancy.

Sailors is a cool place, at least in my book, and I’m sad that I just discovered the place after having to suffer for so long in crowed noisy CBD bars. The bouncers at the entrance were a tad too strict on the age limit, I don’t quite remember how old they  were asking but one of my pals had to borrow an Id from her older sister in order to pass. On the brighter side, this kept most teens out of the club, in particular a bunch of six or so high school louts who were busy trying to bribe the said bouncers for admittance. I got news for you toddlers, grow some beard or ask your dad to buy the damn club or otherwise just party at the likes of Tacos and steps. The upstairs section was comfy with its expansive sofas and its lack of congestion and the music here was suave and mature. After being placed strategically in the middle of my three female companions, I would have been comfortable to remain there with my ice cold pilsner ice hadn’t my pals gotten restless with their urges for dancing. So I was, with indignation no less, dragged to the underground section which was more livelier and more to the taste of my friends.

Here the crowd was busy getting down and in the world of some obscure artist, shaking what their mamas gave them. You should have seen my pals shake their ample behinds, and since they were all well endowed kaos, you can bet your sweet *** men were ogling. Holy cow how they ogled, such ogling can only be fathomed in a mind totally obsessed with the ogle of beautiful ladies shaking, with extreme vigor, their sizable assets. I even took pictorial evidence but I shall not insert  them here due to the effort needed to get this task accomplished. Hell I even got molested, temporarily by one of them but i shall insert the pictures at a later date. The music was okay here and we danced our hearts out till our bodies were spent with exhaustion. Unlike most pubs, here men don’t disturb ladies when they stand to dance which is a refreshing change from the hyenaic tendencies of the Nairobi man. So for those who like bars where you have a choice in the type of music, between loud an jiggy or mellow old school, then I recommend you add sailors to your favorite pubs list. You can get more helpful information regarding the pub here http://www.hurlingham-noticeboard.com/?ad_listing=sailors-bar-restaurant-lounge-2

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One response to “Of sailors and beautiful girls

  1. This one I disagree. Sailors is the one of the unsafest clubs to go for a rave. Why?
    1. The mchele there is on another level. Even a person died there after kuwekewa mchele a while back.
    2. The women (prostitutes) there put mchele in your drink the second you look away from your drink.
    3. Mchele!

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