Much like ‘Where were you when the planes hit the towers?’ or ‘Where were you when Princess Diana died?’, ‘Where are you watching the game?’ has been the question on everyone’s lips for the past few weeks. From fanparks to bars to stadiums to your granny’s lounge, we have all wanted to know where our beloveds were going to be in this shared experience.
So we didn’t get through to the next round, but geez, it sure was fun trying. I even found myself yelling at the TV yesterday. And it’s not over yet. The Gautrain is still running, the tourists are still enjoying South African weather and wire curios, the stadiums are still standing, the hot, foreign men are still wandering around the shopping malls and one team still needs to take that photo where they are all sweaty and jubilent, hoisting eachother up and kissing the weirdly shaped World Cup trophy. The game must go on.
I think there should be a prize for Best Host Like, Ever. And I think we should do our darndest to win that now.
South Africa vs France, Himeville Arms, Himeville. Three men and a vuvzela.