Crouch, Touch, Pause, Engage

Last weekend I went road trippin' to Dunedin with friends Shannon, Mike, and Dean for the All Blacks test against France. Fully loaded with snacks and supplies, we set off for the three-hour drive early Saturday morning. It was nice to actually see the landscape this time around, as the majority of my first drive to Dunners about a month ago was done in the dark. Pretty country. Made one quick pit stop in Alexandra, the nearest town with a Telecom retailer, so I could buy a new cell phone to replace the one I left in the pocket of my jeans on laundry day earlier in the week. Apparently cell phones aren't built to withstand a good soak and spin. Who knew?

We arrived in "Sunny Dunnedin"--the highly ironic nickname bestowed on the city due to the infrequency in which it is actually sunny--to find it actually sunny! The weather was absolute bluebird in fact. That means not a cloud in the sky to you non Kiwi speakers. We took advantage of the brilliant weather and enjoyed a nice stroll around town for a couple hours. Then it was off to Jason's house for a good rest up for what was sure to be a big night. Jason is an old mate of Shannon's and Mike's, and he was gracious enough to put us up for the night. Good thing too, because with the ABs in town, the place was packed and accommodations could've proved difficult (and costly) to otherwise obtain.

Rested up and now dressed in our AB gear--all of us except Dean that is, who, as a Welshman, felt it his duty to wear his bright red Wales Rugby jersey--we walked down to the Octagon to catch a bus to Carisbrook Stadium, a.k.a. "The House of Pain," to join up with 30,000 some-odd other black-clad fans. The sell-out crowd, coupled with the fact this would be the last ever AB match at historic Carisbrook, made for an electric atmosphere. Everyone was all smiles entering the grounds, eagerly anticipating the forecasted forthcoming flaying of the French. I even heard mention a theory that, given the historical French penchant for surrender, they might just forfeit after the AB's pregame ritual, the Haka, and save everyone the formality of actually playing the game.

Would the AB's and their fan's overconfidence be their undoing? Would random girls try to kiss any of us at the bar later that night? Would we get turned away at the casino door at 2:00am for apparently, despite our best efforts, not approaching said door and it's accompanying doorman in a straight line? Would one of the ordinate number of Turkish cafes in Dunedin be open late enough to satisfy a late night fallafel craving? Would a taxi ever pick us up and take us home, or were we doomed to walk (read stagger) up that monster hill at 3:3o? Would we discover a new religion the following morning?

You'll have to come back for the next installment to find out, dear readers. I'm tired, and I'm going to bed.

Cheers!