12.
.
MY CHRISTMAS SPIRIT:
Is Vodka. Santa, feel free to leave this on my doorstep. But don’t come in. I’m not into your old man sacks. Har Har.
.
ANOTHER SHOT AT DEATH:
Yesterday I discovered my mate Mike was dead. I met Mike in Dunedin years ago, and saw him again recently when I was in Wellington. As it turned out, I was in Wellington for my other mate’s funeral at the time.
Mike has been known to struggle with depression. It seems he still was as he hung himself by a river near Murchison, and remained there unfound for a few days until some kayakers happened past.
His funeral is next week in Palmerston North. I will not be attending.
Christmas is no time for funerals. And coming straight off another… well, no thanks.
I’m choosing to remain in the positive. In the fact that my whanau is already gathering from around the globe, to come back to the home valley and Get Merry. The lengthy shed parties have already begun, and though I’m quieter than usual – mostly due to the painkillers, mmm neat – I am Loving the Christmas togetherness. That’s what it’s all about right?
.
MY CHRISTMAS SPIRIT:
Is Vodka. Santa, feel free to leave this on my doorstep. But don’t come in. I’m not into your old man sacks. Har Har.
.
ANOTHER SHOT AT DEATH:
Yesterday I discovered my mate Mike was dead. I met Mike in Dunedin years ago, and saw him again recently when I was in Wellington. As it turned out, I was in Wellington for my other mate’s funeral at the time.
Mike has been known to struggle with depression. It seems he still was as he hung himself by a river near Murchison, and remained there unfound for a few days until some kayakers happened past.
His funeral is next week in Palmerston North. I will not be attending.
Christmas is no time for funerals. And coming straight off another… well, no thanks.
I’m choosing to remain in the positive. In the fact that my whanau is already gathering from around the globe, to come back to the home valley and Get Merry. The lengthy shed parties have already begun, and though I’m quieter than usual – mostly due to the painkillers, mmm neat – I am Loving the Christmas togetherness. That’s what it’s all about right?
It might be selfish, but I don't care. For Christmas, I'm choosing to celebrate My Life instead of my friends' extinguished one...
.
MY B-52s EXPERIENCE:
SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIgh.
Well, here it is. The account of my heaven turning into my hell.
…………..
Cosmic Thing was the first album by The B-52s that made me take notice of them. After that, there was no stopping me. I looked into what they’d done before, bought all their albums afterwards… They were weird, and nonsensical, and so much fun to sing and dance around to. I developed a special place in my heart for them.
When I met my friend H-J, we discovered that the two of us were that rare breed of people that know all the words to their songs inside and out, and would have epic nights involving lots of drinking and playing entire albums whilst singing along word for word, and when it finished we’d turn it over and start again – usually to the dismay of unfortunate others who happened to be trapped in the “singing”.
(Hair is also guilty of this treatment.)
So happy were we both when we discovered they were coming to New Zealand. When I learned they would be playing right here in the Wairarapa, I was stoked. Me, H-J, and her partner Dan made a definitive plan to go, got the tickets… and waited with baited breath.
We would text each other almost daily, about what we were going to wear, how excited we were, song lyrics to some of our favourites… I acquired a few more songs that were missing from my collection, learned the words to songs I still didn’t know…
.
MY B-52s EXPERIENCE:
SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIgh.
Well, here it is. The account of my heaven turning into my hell.
…………..
Cosmic Thing was the first album by The B-52s that made me take notice of them. After that, there was no stopping me. I looked into what they’d done before, bought all their albums afterwards… They were weird, and nonsensical, and so much fun to sing and dance around to. I developed a special place in my heart for them.
When I met my friend H-J, we discovered that the two of us were that rare breed of people that know all the words to their songs inside and out, and would have epic nights involving lots of drinking and playing entire albums whilst singing along word for word, and when it finished we’d turn it over and start again – usually to the dismay of unfortunate others who happened to be trapped in the “singing”.
(Hair is also guilty of this treatment.)
So happy were we both when we discovered they were coming to New Zealand. When I learned they would be playing right here in the Wairarapa, I was stoked. Me, H-J, and her partner Dan made a definitive plan to go, got the tickets… and waited with baited breath.
We would text each other almost daily, about what we were going to wear, how excited we were, song lyrics to some of our favourites… I acquired a few more songs that were missing from my collection, learned the words to songs I still didn’t know…
Cindy Wilson from the B-52s themselves even requested my friendship on Facebook! I wrote her the most gushing fan letter explaining mine and H-J’s love for their music, how excited we were to be seeing them, how thankful I was that they were coming to play on my home turf, and how loudly we would sing on the day. She wrote back saying “Make sure you sing loudly!” H-J and I were so excited that she’d written back to me at all! We were just so damn stoked to be seeing our favourite band together. Neither of us wanted to see them with anyone else.
.
The day arrived. H-J and Dan arrived from Wellington.
I had bought 3 fold out chairs for the occasion, borrowed a chilly bin, we went shopping and bought lots of luxurious snack foods, and made giant cob loaf sandwiches.
For the last two days I had been soaking a giant tub of fresh fruit salad – including individually squeezed juice free pineapple and watermelon – in a third of a bottle of Absolut. I topped it up to a half bottle just before we left, and we poured the remaining half into a bottle of sparkling water and closed it tight hoping the seal wouldn’t be checked too closely.
We had chairs, a picnic rug, a mass of great food, some sneaky piss… We couldn’t have been more prepared. I’d had a long time to think to about all this, and wanted this to be an amazing amazing day for me and one of my best friends. I had five other friends/acquaintances come to stay as well, and hopefully I made them feel welcome, because quite frankly – and this is in now way a negative thing against the others – everyone else was almost irrelevant to me. As far as I was concerned, this was mine and H-J’s Christmas, and no one else was going to encroach on our day. Nothing was going to stop Our Day.
Well, maybe one thing.
.
“We’’ll dance in the garden in torn sheets in the rain,
In the RAAAAAAIIIIIIIIN!”
.
The day arrived. H-J and Dan arrived from Wellington.
I had bought 3 fold out chairs for the occasion, borrowed a chilly bin, we went shopping and bought lots of luxurious snack foods, and made giant cob loaf sandwiches.
For the last two days I had been soaking a giant tub of fresh fruit salad – including individually squeezed juice free pineapple and watermelon – in a third of a bottle of Absolut. I topped it up to a half bottle just before we left, and we poured the remaining half into a bottle of sparkling water and closed it tight hoping the seal wouldn’t be checked too closely.
We had chairs, a picnic rug, a mass of great food, some sneaky piss… We couldn’t have been more prepared. I’d had a long time to think to about all this, and wanted this to be an amazing amazing day for me and one of my best friends. I had five other friends/acquaintances come to stay as well, and hopefully I made them feel welcome, because quite frankly – and this is in now way a negative thing against the others – everyone else was almost irrelevant to me. As far as I was concerned, this was mine and H-J’s Christmas, and no one else was going to encroach on our day. Nothing was going to stop Our Day.
Well, maybe one thing.
.
“We’’ll dance in the garden in torn sheets in the rain,
In the RAAAAAAIIIIIIIIN!”
.
When I woke up on The Day, it was absolutely pissing down. I’d read the forecast the day before, and it had said it would be rainy in the morning, clearing up in the afternoon, but with gale force winds all day. I had faith things would work out ok. I’d asked for all sorts of help from the universe and watchful spirits. I had faith that nothing would stop the day from happening the way I hoped.
I silently continued to pray for the rain to stop as I went about the morning, and eventually the sun came out. Goody! That was one thing out of the way.
My friends arrived. We went shopping, got our shit together, had some drinks. My other friends arrived, and they set up camp in the backyard. We got dressed into our outfits – I had a red tuxedo jacket with a red shirt, black pants, black shoes, black skull tie. I was set.
We made our way to the bus stop, where other groups of people were waiting to catch the bus also. But they weren’t true fans, we could tell. They were just in it for the day out. They would be the people that we’d been joking about for a while – the ones who would drunkenly be yelling out “Play Love Shack!”, the only song they knew.
.
Not long after, we arrived. We were not even close to being first to arrive either. It seemed everyone had decided to arrive at 4 sharp. There was a large swell of traffic and people, neither of whom were sure where to go next. The bus parked somehow, told us it would be leaving 30 minutes after the band stopped playing, and off we went. Dan was bravely carrying the rather large and heavy chilly bin round for the team.
The gate to the vineyard is right by a T-junction in the road, so there were cars and people converging from all sides. We walked into the fray and found a clearing by some parked cars to sit in and observe. No one seemed really too sure about what was going on, but I didn’t care about them. We could be a lot closer to the front, I suggested to the others, and moved us across the road and closer to the gate. Very obviously cue jumping, but too bad. Me and my cousins had long ago mastered the art of Find-Your-Way-To-The-Front. We wanted to get in fast and stake our claim. We did, after all, have 4997 other people to contend with.
The gates were supposed to have opened at 4. By 4.30 however, nothing seemed to happening, and the wind was definitely still blowing hard. I carried on ignoring that however, resolving to let absolutely nothing get me down, including what could be a very long wait. I knew that once we were in, everything would be worth it.
Around 4.45, the main gateway was opened. In retrospect, this was purely an attempt from management to ease the masses somewhat, give the illusion that things were under way.
We made our way down the driveway towards the vineyard. And then the stage came into view over the bank. It was an impressively large dome deal, plenty of lights, big speakers, lighting towers beside it, a large area directly in front of the stage where lucky punters willing to pay more had reserved seating, plenty of other tents scattered around the site where they’d be selling food and booze… It all looked pretty good, and upped the dial a notch on the excitement front.
But at the end of the driveway was another gate. We had maybe a hundred people in front of us, though we were certainly at the front end of things. And suddenly the movement came to a stop again. We stood another twenty minutes or so, and eventually an official looking man appeared over the bank to tell us that they were waiting another half hour on Metservice to tell them if the wind was going to die down.
At this point, everyone sat down. On the ground, on their chairs, on the bank. Impromptu picnics began happening. Random strangers began joking amongst themselves.
We decided to brave it and crack out a fruit salad. We were starting to sober up, after all. Our new friends around us asked if we had managed to sneak in some booze. “Who, Us? No, no.” I lied, not wanting to give our game away to anyone. You never know who is listening and/or jealous. But as I opened the giant tub to scoop us out three cups, I was hit with more than one heckle.
“Gee, that smells suspiciously alcoholic!”
“Mmm, wish we had fruit salad, that’s a great idea for next time, soak it in gin!”
“Where’s that smell coming from??”
Whoops.
We gave away nothing and sat quietly eating our salads, which were way potent and packing quite a punch.
And the wind continued to blow…
.
Every time I seemed to think that maybe it was easing up, off it would blow again.
Half an hour passed. The wind continued to blow. After another quarter of an hour, I finally gave into my fears and said “You know… I’m starting to think this might not happen.” H-J had said this a couple of times during the wait, as well a few “God, they better not cancel it”s. I hadn’t dared myself to think it so far. But as time dragged on, it really wasn’t looking good.
Finally, just after six o’clock, a boy who couldn’t have been more than 16 – obviously the poor dishwashing sap management had sent out to tell everyone – appeared over the bank with the words “Sorry guys. You’ll get full refunds where you bought the tickets.”
“What about travel and accommodation?” yelled out the guy behind us.
“Sorry guys, that’s just the luck of the draw.” Said a woman behind the boy.
And then, with pretty much no complaint, everyone stood up and started to make their way out. H-J was GUTTED. I, on the other hand, was puzzlingly ungutted. (At the time - the mourning would come much later, in private.) In retrospect, I believe this to be because I had always, somewhere, deep in my heart, thought it was just too good to be true.
I tried to make H-J feel better, but it wasn’t working. She was just bummed. Understandably so. They would probably never play here again, and that may just be our only chance to see them blown. No pun intended.
The bus ride back was sullen. And of course, even as we were driving out of town, we could tell the wind outside was easing… A few jokes were made about what an awesome day that was…
Once we got home, I couldn’t believe I was having to think about other things to do that night. Like, what movie to watch, or what music to listen to. Of course, the one band we wanted to listen to was the one band none of us could bare to listen to. I couldn’t believe that just that morning I’d been dancing round the house to them, their music filling me with joy.
I silently continued to pray for the rain to stop as I went about the morning, and eventually the sun came out. Goody! That was one thing out of the way.
My friends arrived. We went shopping, got our shit together, had some drinks. My other friends arrived, and they set up camp in the backyard. We got dressed into our outfits – I had a red tuxedo jacket with a red shirt, black pants, black shoes, black skull tie. I was set.
We made our way to the bus stop, where other groups of people were waiting to catch the bus also. But they weren’t true fans, we could tell. They were just in it for the day out. They would be the people that we’d been joking about for a while – the ones who would drunkenly be yelling out “Play Love Shack!”, the only song they knew.
.
Not long after, we arrived. We were not even close to being first to arrive either. It seemed everyone had decided to arrive at 4 sharp. There was a large swell of traffic and people, neither of whom were sure where to go next. The bus parked somehow, told us it would be leaving 30 minutes after the band stopped playing, and off we went. Dan was bravely carrying the rather large and heavy chilly bin round for the team.
The gate to the vineyard is right by a T-junction in the road, so there were cars and people converging from all sides. We walked into the fray and found a clearing by some parked cars to sit in and observe. No one seemed really too sure about what was going on, but I didn’t care about them. We could be a lot closer to the front, I suggested to the others, and moved us across the road and closer to the gate. Very obviously cue jumping, but too bad. Me and my cousins had long ago mastered the art of Find-Your-Way-To-The-Front. We wanted to get in fast and stake our claim. We did, after all, have 4997 other people to contend with.
The gates were supposed to have opened at 4. By 4.30 however, nothing seemed to happening, and the wind was definitely still blowing hard. I carried on ignoring that however, resolving to let absolutely nothing get me down, including what could be a very long wait. I knew that once we were in, everything would be worth it.
Around 4.45, the main gateway was opened. In retrospect, this was purely an attempt from management to ease the masses somewhat, give the illusion that things were under way.
We made our way down the driveway towards the vineyard. And then the stage came into view over the bank. It was an impressively large dome deal, plenty of lights, big speakers, lighting towers beside it, a large area directly in front of the stage where lucky punters willing to pay more had reserved seating, plenty of other tents scattered around the site where they’d be selling food and booze… It all looked pretty good, and upped the dial a notch on the excitement front.
But at the end of the driveway was another gate. We had maybe a hundred people in front of us, though we were certainly at the front end of things. And suddenly the movement came to a stop again. We stood another twenty minutes or so, and eventually an official looking man appeared over the bank to tell us that they were waiting another half hour on Metservice to tell them if the wind was going to die down.
At this point, everyone sat down. On the ground, on their chairs, on the bank. Impromptu picnics began happening. Random strangers began joking amongst themselves.
We decided to brave it and crack out a fruit salad. We were starting to sober up, after all. Our new friends around us asked if we had managed to sneak in some booze. “Who, Us? No, no.” I lied, not wanting to give our game away to anyone. You never know who is listening and/or jealous. But as I opened the giant tub to scoop us out three cups, I was hit with more than one heckle.
“Gee, that smells suspiciously alcoholic!”
“Mmm, wish we had fruit salad, that’s a great idea for next time, soak it in gin!”
“Where’s that smell coming from??”
Whoops.
We gave away nothing and sat quietly eating our salads, which were way potent and packing quite a punch.
And the wind continued to blow…
.
Every time I seemed to think that maybe it was easing up, off it would blow again.
Half an hour passed. The wind continued to blow. After another quarter of an hour, I finally gave into my fears and said “You know… I’m starting to think this might not happen.” H-J had said this a couple of times during the wait, as well a few “God, they better not cancel it”s. I hadn’t dared myself to think it so far. But as time dragged on, it really wasn’t looking good.
Finally, just after six o’clock, a boy who couldn’t have been more than 16 – obviously the poor dishwashing sap management had sent out to tell everyone – appeared over the bank with the words “Sorry guys. You’ll get full refunds where you bought the tickets.”
“What about travel and accommodation?” yelled out the guy behind us.
“Sorry guys, that’s just the luck of the draw.” Said a woman behind the boy.
And then, with pretty much no complaint, everyone stood up and started to make their way out. H-J was GUTTED. I, on the other hand, was puzzlingly ungutted. (At the time - the mourning would come much later, in private.) In retrospect, I believe this to be because I had always, somewhere, deep in my heart, thought it was just too good to be true.
I tried to make H-J feel better, but it wasn’t working. She was just bummed. Understandably so. They would probably never play here again, and that may just be our only chance to see them blown. No pun intended.
The bus ride back was sullen. And of course, even as we were driving out of town, we could tell the wind outside was easing… A few jokes were made about what an awesome day that was…
Once we got home, I couldn’t believe I was having to think about other things to do that night. Like, what movie to watch, or what music to listen to. Of course, the one band we wanted to listen to was the one band none of us could bare to listen to. I couldn’t believe that just that morning I’d been dancing round the house to them, their music filling me with joy.
I know that their music won’t bring me joy again for a long, long time…
.
In the paper two days later was an article about the cancellation. Included was an interview with the promoter, who admitted it was a devastating decision to have to make. She also said that the wind had died down by 6.45, but by then the 5000 strong crowd had evaporated. UGH.
My one regret, the thing you think of later that you wish you’d said or done, is that I did not stand up when we were told we’d get refunds and say
“What if we’re prepared to wait for One More Hour???”
I’m not sure if everyone else was, but I know H-J and I would have been…
Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh…
.
“Oh, you broke my heart at the Funplex,
Yes you did, yes you did”…
.
.
In the paper two days later was an article about the cancellation. Included was an interview with the promoter, who admitted it was a devastating decision to have to make. She also said that the wind had died down by 6.45, but by then the 5000 strong crowd had evaporated. UGH.
My one regret, the thing you think of later that you wish you’d said or done, is that I did not stand up when we were told we’d get refunds and say
“What if we’re prepared to wait for One More Hour???”
I’m not sure if everyone else was, but I know H-J and I would have been…
Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh…
.
“Oh, you broke my heart at the Funplex,
Yes you did, yes you did”…
.
No comments:
Post a Comment