there was a clamour for invites and a big fuss kicked off, with everyone hankering for the magical ByGanz invites as if they would be the answer to all life’s problems: “Oh my, Ganzoury is throwing a party! And the description contains the words exclusive and extravaganza we MUST go!”
I remember when I first arrived in Cairo, I never got invited to shit. Apparently, one must prove there worth to receive an invite form the all knowing Ganzoury. It was only after I started making internet,writing words, allowing people to book for places and indulging people’s vanity, that I started receiving a flurry of invites to my office every week. Well, joke’s on you Ganzoury I’m not cool. I still wear Pokemon underwear and play Dungeons and Dragons online.
Like most people in this ‘society’, I bitch and moan when ever an event like this pops up. You’ll hear me saying, ‘Oh here we go another cluster fuck for elitist, fascist cunts to gather and talk about themselves and other people while getting shit-faced on free booze’ and yet, here I am writing another event review of yet another ‘fabulous’ party I have attended. From this point on you may call me Waleed Hypocrite Mowafi.
Be cool, drink Heineken
The huge production held at the JW Marriott truly celebrated of the crisp, refreshing taste of Heineken. There were several humongous Heineken bars spotted around the massive JW ballroom manned by smart bartenders, mixing up delicious cocktails and cracking open those gorgeous, green bottles. The red carpet leading up to the party was forgone for a MUCH classier green carpet with Heineken logos. There were Heineken barrels, Heineken glasses, a Heineken stage, a Heineken DJ Booth…you get the picture. Also somewhere along the line there was a loose association to the new Bond film, Skyfall, but I’m sure you want to hear more about the Heineken…
How are we supposed to know it is a Heineken event?
So I arrived in my tux, as the invite indicated, and was ready for a night of Heineken shenanigans. Everyone who I suspected to see there was: the oldies (or, as I like to call them, the remnants of the Mubarak regime who were just legitimate enough to survive the revolution) in the lounges; the social Cairenes, the big business owners, singers, actors and so on and so forth.
I walked around the venue and admired the level of detail that had gone into ensuring that with ever slight movement of your retina you WILL be Heineken-ised. HA-HA joke’s on you Heineken Do I look like I can be manipulated by your big shiny party?! I will not be another statistic on your ‘Heineken Drinkers in Egypt’ pie-chart displayed in your monthly board meeting of fat cat executives . I will not be slave to consumerism!
So anyway I headed to the bar and got myself a draft of ice-cold Heineken. I enjoyed it very much, so I had another. I found myself getting out of shell a little. Talking to girls, cracking jokes. Charming the women around me. What was happening?
All I could do was head back to the bar and order a couple pints of that beautiful golden liquid with its sharp taste and effervescent aroma. I made my way to the dance floor and found myself surrounded by beautiful women clambering for my attention as Vanessa Klein (Vanessa Kleineken) belted out some incredible tunes. What was happening? I HAD to have more. I once again headed to the bar and ordered another Heineken I felt suave, I felt sophisticated, I felt like I could do anything! There was confidence oozing out of my every orifce. What a night. Heineken you are the best beer in the world. I love you Heineken. People of Egypt: there is a silver lining but that lining is not silver it’s green. Drink Heineken.