Cool it, Baby...I'm on Africa Time.

It has come to pass multiple times that shuttles are late to take us somewhere, that only 3 of the available 8 checkout registers are open, or that people are just not moving fast enough. If I were from New York, I would have gone insane by now.

We are told this is "Africa Time". Just let it go, stop hurrying so much and enjoy life.

All well and good, until it came time to take the train into Cape Town.

On one bright and glorious autumn day, Yours Truly decided to join some friends at a concert. The transit seemed simple enough: Take the train to Cape Town, fart about for two hours, and then take the train to Kirstenbosch for the concert.

The train got about halfway to Cape Town before a voice "informed" us over the loudspeaker (as in, "had to be interpreted by someone next to us") that the train would be stopping halfway to Cape Town, and that we would have to transfer to another train.

No problem. I've spent more than enough time at Howard waiting for the Purple Line to know the drill. Or so I thought.

The station in question had about six or seven different tracks to accomodate the different lines. We arrived on Track 3 and were told to go to Track 5 to wait for the next train.

30 minutes later, the train had still not come. While another voice had come on the loadspeaker apologizing for the inconvenience, no estimated time of arrival was given. Still, no reason to lose your cool, right?

Not pictured: Author's seething fury.

When, another 15 minutes later, all seemed lost, the train finally arrived...on Track 2.

As it arrived (yes, quite literally as the train rolled into Track 2), the same voice on the loudspeaker notified us that the next train to Cape Town would be arriving shortly on Track 2.

Despondently, I realized that there was no way I could get back down the stairs, run over to Track 2, and get back up the stairs before the train left. I gave up hope.

The South Africans around me, however, weren't such defeatists. They immediately jumped onto the track.

I am not making this up. They jumped onto Track 5 and scrambled across to Track 4. They jumped off of Track 4 and ran over to Track 3. They vaulted Track 3 altogether and lept onto the train on Track 2.

And I...I followed. It was the first great adrenaline rush that South Africa would give me (and not the last). We did not get to fart about in Cape Town as I had hoped and only barely made the concert.

Africa Time, man. It's a killer. Before you know it, you're running across electrified rails just to catch a train.