I knew I that I’d made the correct decision when I entered the bar and heard The Beatles on the overhead, “Baby you can drive my car…” Of course, I’ll drive it to Dunedin and back, just for a milk shake. When coffee shops close at such an early hour, they force the bars upon us. And for aspiring alcoholics, the sell isn’t a hard one.
A nice cold pint of Canterbury Draft, and three upper middle aged lady flies dancing to Elvis Presley, this is more their style. “Don’t be cruel Blue Heart, its true…” The third song is Credence, and I know that not only have I made the right decision, but that I am home. “Down on the corner, out in the street…” Exactly. I’ll bring a nickel and tap my feet. Except nickels don’t exist in this country. I suppose that I’ll have to make due with one of those worthless ten cent pieces that look like an American penny. The feet tapping will prevail. The foot-tappers will understand. Music transcends monetary constraints. So does horse racing. And prostitution.
I’ve become fairly proficient in knocking out 500 word love songs and declarations of weirdness, but recently something much larger has come into play. I didn’t ask for it, and neither did you. And I’m not sure that either of us have the attention span to read three to five thousand words in one sitting (maybe me least of all) so I’m going to break it down for you. Five days, five posts. All building upon each other and chronicling an intense bit of interesting, set in the South Pacific. Which is fun. Life is fun. As always, Thanks for reading.
(PS – I have a magnificent beard.)