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Date: May 30, 2004
Location: Christchurch, New Zealand
'ello, 'ello... I'm writing you this morning from Christchurch, the most
English town in New Zealand, the jumping off point for Antarctic
expeditions,
birthplace of the suffragette movement in the summer hemisphere, and the
fastest
growing city on the South Island.
Got checked into our lovely Christchurch digs, changed clothes, splashed a
little water on the mug and cologne on the wrists, and headed for the bar.
Noticing a theme here yet?
Only made it as far as the hallway, where half
the tour was sitting in a sort of gauntlet, greeting everyone who came down
the hall with cheers, and drinking Smirnoff. Seemed like a fun time, so of
course I joined the lot. After we'd polished of our bottles, we made our way to the
bar, proper for a few quiet ones and a game or two of pool, accompanied by
strains
of AC/DC and Limp Bizkit from the jukebox, courtesy of Sandor, one of the
Aussie lads.
Dinner was served Wild-West style in "Outlaws" - where the
proprietors badge read "Hanging Judge Parker" and his outfit sported twin
revolvers and a bullwhip. The entertainment consisted of watching Scott,
aka Frenchie, drink down a "Scorpion" - a huge fishbowl beverage consisting of
a bit of every clear liquor in the bar. Scott had won this complimentary
drink as a result of having been the "most felt-up" in another male revue that had
occurred earlier on the bus during a particularly boring stretch of road
between
Picton and Christchurch. Then it really kicked in high gear when we got a
line dancing demo by the gayest quad of waiters ever. No, really, these
guys were queer as a three-dollar bill, but very nice, and great dancers. Lots
of fun. My contribution to the shenanigans came when the Hanging Judge placed
a large feather headdress on me, with the challenge that if I wore it until
the end of the evening, I could get a free "Scorpion"...
Hoping to accelerate that timetable a little, I went to my room, and changed from a T-shirt and
slacks into more traditional Native American garb, namely an impromptu breech-cloth
fashioned from a towel and a belt... This was a hit with the party crowd,
as was my karaoke rendition of Johnny Cash's "Boy name Sue", and sure enough,
I got my big, bad beverage a bit early... Then got in a drink-off with one
of the "Crazy Danes" which resulted in a tie.
I returned to my room, planning
to change back into regular clothes, but only managing to remove my scant
garments before the surrendering to slumber...
...now, I'm going to walk about Christchurch a bit before we get back on
the road, headed for Fox Glacier.
Cheerio, hope you're having a great weekend, and I'll write more next
time,
probably from Queenie.
- Edward
-- megs.
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