Hanging on by a dress

It was one of those days when some insignificant thing that someone else thought was a matter of life and death kept me late in the office. But as a good employee and team player, I happily obliged to put in the extra hours to get the job done. Several tweets and Facebook posts later, and of course after receiving the email that my late night offering had been accepted, I contemplated heading home.

Thus I proceeded to fish out my wallet from my voluptuous handbag to check how much money I had. To my disbelief, all I saw was a crumpled brown note and a gold coin. My heart sank as a quick glance at the laptop clock revealed 10.45 pm. It was too late for me to safely walk to the taxi stage…

Still in disbelief, I proceeded to empty the contents of my handbag hoping and praying that a stray coin or two would fall out. The contents splattered all over my desk only to expose my lipstick, lip gloss, super glue (that’s another story), cell phone, a bunch of keys, hand cream, scarf and wallet. But no coins. A heavy sigh escaped from my lips as my shoulders sank.

The ugly truth sinks in

It was final; all I had was 1,500 shillings, just enough for a taxi and bodaboda home. So I stole  another glance at the time; it was getting late, and I couldn’t postpone my journey home any longer. I purposefully rose from my seat, smoothed my flimsy purple polyester dress over my hips and placed the contents of my handbag back into that receptacle, then marched out of the office into the dark of Kampala night.

The cold air traversed my nostrils, assaulting my lungs and squeezing a little cough out of me. As my skin shivered, fear set in, completing my goosebump look. Yes, I was petrified of standing on the pavement in the dead of the night, scared of any thugs that might nab my bag or booty, whichever took their fancy.

So I half ran, half walked past the bushes around the bend in the road, straight to the taxi stage marked by a huge tree. Mercifully, a beat up taxi pulled up, so I hurriedly hopped in, brushing my flimsy dress against a loose nail sticking out of the passenger’s seat. 

Shortly after I sat down, my phone rang. To my delight, it was an old friend that I hadn’t heard from in ages. This launched me into a series of platitudes, much to the chagrin of my fellow passengers. Their irritated looks fueled my gregariousness, so I grew louder with every response.

For all my annoying display, little did I know that the joke would soon be on me. My stage drew near so in my most obnoxious tone, I threw my fare at the taxi conductor and yelled at him to stop the taxi. He shook his head as the vehicle came to a jarring halt and promptly held the door open for me.

Nailed it

Suddenly, I heard a strange ripping sound and felt a gust of wind on my backside. Perplexed, I looked back to be sure it wasn’t a fart. It was much worse; the hem of my dress dangled on a nail affixed to the passenger seat.

”Oh, my dress! My dress!” is all I could say; my cheeks were burning as the breeze cooled my backside. At that exact moment, I regretted neglecting to take my panty out of the crack of my butt earlier. This little oversight left my right butt cheek properly exposed to all and sundry, much to their amusement.

Oddly, my former victim, the taxi conductor, became my saviour. He leaned over and gingerly lifted my dress off the nail. Before he could utter a word, I sped off into the embracing veil of darkness, leaving behind my change and shame.