Oh, Uganda...

A couple of stories from the past week.

Risky Business:
After dinner this evening my roommate and I happened to choose a boda-boda driver who clearly had very little regard for his or our safety. How do I know? Because when traffic came to a standstill and quickly backed up in front of us, our boda nearly became a new layer of paint on the van ahead of us. Our driver’s response after slamming on the brakes? “Oops…”

Let me ask you this:
Why do people party on weeknights?
Why do people invite 100 of their closest friends to party with them, just outside their populous apartment building, on a weeknight?
Why do people think that their neighbors would prefer to listen to singing rather than sleep?
Why do people think that one hundred voices singing one song over and over again, at the top of their lungs, for seven hours, is something I want to listen to on a weeknight?
My boss says I should have just joined the party. I felt more inclined to throw rocks. I didn’t, but I wanted to.