The journey is mostly uneventful except for the long straight road stretches where you hit 150kph. You arrive to Eldoret early evening, grab a meal as Bob calls up all old boys asking them to turn up. Most of them give flimsy excuses to why they cannot meet you guys. Just when you were about to give up, you get a call from Philo. Not only is he around town but is also in a party mood. He gives you directions to what he claims to be the hottest joint in the sleepy town.
The nightclub is on a street whose name you didn’t catch. Apart from the huge neon sign which reads ‘Club Signature’ the joint looks rather nondescript. You walk in expecting to find an old, dingy and rusty bar filled with thugs and hookers.
To your surprise the nightclub looks amazing. The lights are dimmed just to create right ambience without necessarily being too dark. The music playing is urban and catchy. You just can’t help it but dance to the tune. Being the town where world’s renowned marathoners come from you expected to find super skinny mamas dressed in sweatpants and trainers. To your surprise Eldoret women are current on fashion matters and have some flesh where it matters. You look at Bob and nod. It’s going to be an awesome night!
The club is set such that the Dj box and dance floor are on farthest end from the entrance, the bar counter is on the side while the rest of the room is full of stools, tables and couches. After moving round for a few minutes you spot Philo seated at a table somewhere in the middle of the hall. Bob and you slip into the two seats next to him.
It’s just like old times. Whenever you guys went out you would pick the most visible spot. For the first two hours you would get engrossed in constructive discussions ignoring all females around your table. This worked like magic. The ladies would be pissed-off and surprised at the same time by why three great looking gents were not remotely interested in them unlike the other guys? Who are these guys? What makes the so special? Don’t they find us attractive enough? As a result, the daring ones —who also happened to be hot— would walk over to your table and strike a conversation.
In no time the beautiful ladies seated in the corner pass by your table presumably on their way to the dance floor. One of them, choreographically trips over and falls on you. Instinctively, you turn and catch her in time. You’ve got to give it to women for their determination. She swiftly thanks you and introduces herself.