Back in Wellington again, part 1.

So, last time I told you that this trip was prompted by my English Companion, Joe, and his insistance that we go and see an English commedian this week at Wellington. Well, that's how it started, but it sort of evolved from that first seed of an idea. It just so happens that this last weekend is also the same weekend that the Butlerites (Ben, Erika & co.) (Butlerites = people in New Zealand on the Butler program-it's like USAC, but they actually do things together.) were also slated to be in Wellington for one of their little trips. "So," I thought, "cool, that'll mean that we can all go down together and have a spot of fun or three." Well, I was somewhat mistaken. But we'll get there in a minute.

Friday morning was rushed and painful. The night before I had it all planned out, I'd get up, shower, catch the 10:00 bus into town, wait around for a bit, then catch my bus to Wellington at 10:50. No problem, right? Well, I'm an idiot. I'd forgotten to print out/do the oral portion of my Maori language assignemnt; effectively 20% of my total grade in that class. So I ran from my bed, did the oral portion, attempted to burn the sound file onto a CD only to find that my computer had picked that moment to choose to not recognize CDs, rendering it not possible for me to burn it in my room. So I ran to the library and prayed that they had an open computer. Luckily for me, they did, So I hurridley logged into the system, printed out my assignment and burned my oral portion to the CD. I was running just barely on time. . . until I realized that I had yet to write down my confirmation numbers for the hostel and my upcoming bus ride. At that point I stopped, swore, and realized that I was not going to make the first bus. So now I decided that the jig was up, I'd already missed the bus, I had fifty minutes to get to town, I could find another ride in time. I leisurely walked up the stairs of doom, panted my way into the front office, turned in my assignment, and made my way back to my dorm. I figured I'd try my frinends first, they had cars, right? Wrong. They had all skipped ship, and I could only find Rodrigo, who had left his car in town the night before and stumbled home in a drunken state. Well, damn then, I had to call a taxi then. But first, I figured that I would whore myself out in the common room to see if anybody had a car. Lucky for me, they didn't actually want payment, and I found a random guy who gave me a ride to town. Problems averted. It's not that I was worried that I couldn't get to town, it was that things didn't go according to plan that bothered me. Oh, OCD, thou art a cruel mistress. . .

I then met up with Joe and we took the bus down to Wellington; my first time, his third. The next five hours were fairly unimportant: we got to town, checked into our hostel (I made out like a bandit-I payed only 20$, got a dorm room with four beds, supplied sheets and towels, a TV, a contiguous bathroom, and a complementary dinner [see: appetiser]; all of which are optional in some hostels. Ben payed 25$ for a room with 6 beds, and a bathroom down the hall. Ahhhhh, I win!) wandered about the city, saw Te Papa, and eventually Ben and Erika got to town and we met up with them. Then the night began in earnest, for it was time to see the commedian!

The show was at, I swear it has to be, a gay bar. Why do I say that? Well, just look at the friggin' name: the San Fransisco Bath House. The sign was even rainbow colored. Not that that matters, of course, I just thought it strange that Joe would book us into a gay bar for a show. Anyways, back to topic, the guy we saw present was Stephen K. Amos, a commedian of ambiguous sexuality from England who was actually quite hilarious. His show consisted of mostly of making fun of random audience members and making black jokes, which he could do because he was black. It really does just shock me though, how very much the American civil rights problems have permeated the world conciousness. For example, one of his jokes was about the KKK. I thought, "What? Why in the world would he make a joke like this? They don't have the KKK in England, do they? So why is everbody here still laughing at it?" It's honestly quite strange, and I don't have the answers. Otherwise though, his show was really funny and totally worth the trip to Wellington for.

So we got out of that show, giggling and happy. It was (at least I think so) Erika's first time to Wellington too, so she wanted to go out on the town. I've recently come to realize something though, I really don't enjoy super loud music shows where everybody stands up and "Dances." [see: seizure. Also see: hump.] I love going to concerts with loud music, I love going to bars with my friends to talk and listen as their words become progressively more slurred. I just don't like that combination. I think it's mostly my natural aversion to sluts. We ended up hitting two or three bars, but I can categorically state that the most fun I had that night was sitting at KFC with Ben and Erika talking. I really do have problems.

So, since I'm finding myself with less and less to say these days, I'm going to update again later with the next day's adventures!

Same Brandt time, same Brandt channel!