My horrifying alarm sounded at 3:55 AM. Light was just beginning to creep into the sky, but the birds were staying asleep. I rolled over and stuck my one foot on the floor. In a whoosh of blankets and duvets I was up. My dad’s alarm sounded in the room down the passage. In forty, forty five minutes we were on the road, headed for King Shaka International airport. There were just a few cars and a chain of trucks chugging along the highway. We parked, collected our tickets and walked through security.

Sitting in the domestic departure’s Wimpy, we ordered breakfast. My dad pulled out the tickets and rechecked the times, our plane was boarding now! We cancelled the breakfast and took our drinks to go. After the usual dull safety demonstration, made slightly more interesting but a few pretty air hostesses, we were on the run way, hurtling towards near death. Then against all odds, our giant metal bird lifted off the ground and soured into the sky. I smiled as I looked down at my beautiful home.

Johannesburg was not as impressive. Thousands of low cost housing units littered the landscape surrounding ravaged hills where man’s greedy lust for shiny things has left destruction and chaos. Our metal bird groaned to a stop and everybody in the plane idiotically jumped to their feet, clutching their luggage in a desperate rush to go nowhere.

We were met by a grumpy African lady with a weird South African, Afrikaans, nasal problem accent who proceeded to overcharge us for our rental car. The tiny Chevrolet Spark with grinding gears spluttered forward and we were away.

My dad had borrowed a colleague’s GPS. It began to direct us through an industrial area and after around forty, forty five minutes of driving we ended up in the wrong place. I quickly searched for the place we needed to go and we were off a second time. After another forty, forty five minutes we arrived at our destination. Troye was standing outside taking photos with his family in front of the large Spud: The Movie poster.

After enjoying my time with the Crazy 8, Troye Sivan, John van der Ruit and Brad Logan, we jumped back into our Chevy in search of food. At this stage we had consumed nothing but the Wimpy drinks and many bottles of Nu Metro’s complimentary water. (They did have other things but I wasn’t into eating/drinking them) It was already 2PM.

We found the Harley shop before we found food. We made a twenty minute stop to admire the shiny bikes and enjoy the far better Johannesburg service. Around the corner we spotted a mall, and quickly found a Steers to wolf down some food. I watched as the usual suspects who invade Durban in their rugby shorts with no shoes, continued in much the same fashion in their home town.

To be safe, we decided it was best to go straight to the airport in case we got lost again. This time the travel was faster. After a long wait in the airport and a forty, forty-five minute delay, we were back on the run way.

In flight entertainment was provided by a slightly inebriated gentleman discussing the art of using chop sticks with the Chinese man in the row behind him. This continued upon landing in Durban, with added noise making and discussion of the who’s who of the Zulu kingdom. I got lost in my Madam and Eve comic book before attempting to sleep with my head against the plastic window. With little fan fare, we landed, got in our car and made the trip home only to collapse into a deep sleep.

Want to know what all the forty, forty five is about? Watch this: