So I got back from New Zealand a few days ago, and needless to say, I had some shenanigans while I was there. I’ll talk about some of them. So the second night in Queenstown, we were switching from our third to fourth bar, and I had been drinking. I’m the last person in the line of about eight of us, and the first seven get in fine. Then they stop me. Bastards. They ask me how many drinks I had, and I lie and say 6. It was more. They say I was too drunk to come into the bar. I don’t feel like I had been acting drunk. I walk down the stairs from the entrance (the bar was on the 2nd floor), and stand outside for a minute, thinking of what to do. So, what I come up with is running over to the bar’s sign hanging down, and punch it twice, then run away. I circled around the block, coming back to the street level in front of the bar. I then proceed to stop anyone who looks like they are walking up the stairs going into the bar to tell them that the bar is racist, and wouldn’t let in my two black friends earlier. This goes on for about 20 minutes, until a group of like 5 guys comes up, and I tell them this. One guy in particular becomes angry about this. He starts talking shit, which I don’t appreciate. I notice he has a mullet, and spend the next 5-10 minutes making fun of him about it. Everything he said, I just responded by saying stuff like “You do realize that the only people who have mullets are incestual retards, right? How do your friends feel about this?”. Eventually, his friend with a Mohawk tries to support mulletman, so I start making fun of him, saying things like “Mohawks aren’t as stupid as mullets, but they are much douchier”. Don’t really have anything against Mohawks, but mullets suck. Eventually some of the people I was with come out, and I walk away with them. I found out that a girl who was on our tour who walked out after I left had walked out and started talking shit to the Mohawk guy. She became my hero.
The next series of shenanigans took place 2 days later at a different bar. I had been drinking heavily, and was in a state of blacking out. I walked outside to join our tour’s bus driver for a cigarette, and am stopped by the bouncer (who had a Mohawk) and he asks for my I.D. I say fine, and give it to him, and he says “This isn’t you”. I think for a second, remember that I do not own a fake I.D. anymore, and say that it certainly is me. After a brief conversation, he succumbs to my drunken convincing, and then moves on to the reason why he took my I.D. Apparently, someone had accused me of kicking down a door in the club. Thinking back, I cannot remember doing this, and start to disagree with him. The guy tells me that they have me on a security camera kicking the door, but refuses to show us the tape. After talking for a while, the guy isn’t budging, and I’m sticking to my story. He eventually says that I can either pay for the door, or they will involve the police, and I would be arrested. I think “I’m gonna make a break for it”, until I remember that I gave him my I.D. Eventually, a police officer comes over to join the conversation, confirms everything the bouncer said about either settling or being arrested, and I think I’m fucked. The tour driver, who was awesome, ends up convincing the bouncer that $20 would be enough to settle the debt. I take this deal, seeing as though I couldn’t convince them of anything better at this point, seeing as though I kept on saying “This is retarded-like” in my argument. Looking back, I can’t remember if I kicked the door or not. I don’t remember it, and even though I remember the conversation here quite well, it is very possible that I was blacked out before, seeing as though the memories from afterwards became very blurry. After this shenanigans, I decide to go to this burger place, Fergburger, which is simply incredible as fuck. I order a burger which had two patties and two eggs on it, which is very large considering I had trouble earlier finishing a regular burger with only one patty earlier. I get the burger, and go to the cafeteria area of the hotel I was staying at. I go to open the door, only to find the door propped open by some random guy passed out. I go over to him, try waking him up, notice how he is drooling and there are some nasty liquid puddles around him. After trying many methods, such as yelling “Wake the fuck up” and slapping him in the face, I give up. Luckily, one of his friends comes over eventually and tells me to fuck off, and he’ll take care of him. I’m very happy with this, because it means I can go sit down inside and eat my glorious burger. What little I remember of eating this burger is still incredible. The next morning at breakfast, I was talking about the passed out guy, and a girl I was on the tour with told everyone that when she had passed by, she saw 3 people passed out, none of which were on our tour.
The final funny thing was the earthquake. I was going through customs, and the room started shaking like a plane was flying low. Then it started shaking like there was a plane landing on the roof. It was pretty cool and everything. Except that my flight got cancelled and I didn’t get home until about 14 hours late. Other highlights of the trip include skydiving, hiking on a glacier, trying to talk to Scottish people in an Irish pub while drinking Guinness, icing an Australian guy, and trying to explain to people outside the United States what the concept of “Bro” means.
