Today we had the alarm set for 7am to catch our bus to Raglan. I was up at 6:45 because the prospect of getting out of that dorm room was enough to lull even my subconscious out of sleep. Since I’m sure you are dying to know what happened to the girl from yesterday’s blog, hot mess came home at some point during the night. And very quietly. Thank you, hot mess. You surprised me. And you have evaded a hostel STD for one more night.
First stop on the bus: a completely pointless stop at the main Stray bus office to give us an overview of how the bus works. Why was this pointless, you ask? Because everyone has already gotten themselves on the bus, so it would rationally follow that people already understand how it works. But hey, I’m not in charge (can you see me gritting my teeth even as I type this statement?). We drive out to the office and file in. Some intern gives us a two minute talk with a powerpoint presentation that she probably spent two weeks on. No information was given that my dog could not have gleaned from the website in about 3 minutes. After our little presentation we all stood around, waiting for someone to herd us. I think we all know who that someone ended up being. Now, I did tell myself I was going to “go with the flow” on this trip, but I had a beach to get to. So I began yelling at everyone to get back on the bus so we can leave. Some were pleased that someone, anyone took charge, but most just gave me the “who does this chick think she is?” look. A look I am very familiar and quite comfortable with. I’m knocking on 30 here people, telling me I’m a control freak with a serious lack of patience is not news to me. So, off we went on our way to the beach, with a supermarket stop (our next hostel is BYOB, so really a booze stop) and a quick trip to see a waterfall. The waterfall is named Bridal Veil Falls…because it looks like a brides veil. Unlike every other waterfall in the world. Those lucky kiwis.
Once we got to Raglan two morons on our bus were late because they went shopping on a 10 minute stop and made half the bus late for their surf school. I tell you this because I want it on the record that I did not flip out on them. Just rolling with punches here people. Just FYI, I am starting to think “laid back” is code word for “big giant pussy who doesn’t speak her mind”, but I”m gonna give it some getting used to.
Ok….I took a break in between writing this post and got pretty shit faced. Now where was I? Ah yes, so we headed to the beach just as the sun decided to go into hiding, so we sat on the black sand and laughed at the people during surf lessons. Well, I laughed at them. Everyone else probably just wondered what I was laughing at. Everyone wanted to leave but, of course, no one would say anything. So again I took matters into my own hands an initiated the trip home to the sauna. This brings me to what Stina and I have decided are the three rules of our time in NZ:
1. Always order less food than you think you need because these people are closet fatties.
2. Always buy more alcohol than you think you need. you will understand this in a second.
3. STATE YOUR PURPOSE. This one is probably the most important. Basically, if you want something, speak up and ask for it. And about 95% of the time you’ll get your way.
Now, on to the fun stuff. We went back to the hostel and immediately turned on the sauna. After sauana time, our bus driver cooked us a huge BBQ and we all got drunk. Well, some of us got drunk. I got really drunk. About an hour into our drunk bonding time with what will be our little crew for the next few weeks, our bus driver looked at us and said “you two are trouble”. I think it was right after the manager told us he had more wine for purchased and Stina asked “is it free if she makes our with you?” (point to me) and we were the only two that laughed. To this guy’s credit, I saw a moment of hesitation where he seriously considered it. How could he not? But alas, we have been identified as the trouble makers. Within a day. I can’t say I’m surprised, but we did show our hand rather quickly.
We drank though our measly two liters of wine in a box (sounds better than “boxed wine”, doesn’t it?) rather quickly, as you all who know us can imagine. Luckily, the very nice manager from Boston sold us another three liters. And no, I did not make out with him for it. I paid for my boxed wine like a lady! Boston guy seemed unsure when he stated the price, so naturally I haggled him down a whole $6. He looked at me like I was a fucking nut job for haggling with him on the price of a box of wine. But you know this little jew loves her a good deal. Our team lost trivia night. Primarily because trivia in NZ tends to be all about NZ, which is total bullshit, as I am American and therefore everything should be catered specifically to me. For our credit, Stina owned the question about Bey and Jay-Z’s daughter and I was able to identify Tom Selleck on a page of pictures of guys with mustache’s. I did proclaim “who the hell is that?” at the picture of Joseph Stalin though. Not my best moment. For the record, I would have been able to identify Hitler. Just saying. And this is where everything gets fuzzy. I ran around making an ass out of myself for another hour or so, we initiated a dance party where I probably taught everyone how to “drop it like its hot”, as I often do, and then woke up this morning in my bed with Stina handing me a cup of water and a few painkillers. I have a vague recollection of trying to hook Stina up with the pro surfer staying at our place. And apparently the only qualifications I required was that he, himself, insisted he was pro surfer. As the hottest guy in the room, girls were throwing themselves at him and offering to get him drinks. Stina doesn’t get boys drinks, they get her drinks. So we left him to the hoodrats and their varied STD’s. OMG! Speaking of STD’s I almost forgot to tell you about the douchebag from USC on our bus! So sorry, but better late than never.
He needs his own paragraph. Ok, why is a dude who is in a fraternity at USC (1) traveling alone (where are his “brothers”?) and (2) traveling while school is in session. I have come up with the theory that (1) no one likes him – not even other USC douche lords and (2) he was suspended for a rufie-related incident after which his parents funded his travels to get rid of him because they don’t like him either. But, to his credit, he did get laid at about 8pm. The pair of them came back with some story about a “hike” they went on. That fucker wouldn’t go hiking even if mommy and daddy put his bmw on top of hill, trust me. It was fairly hilarious. Oh, and at the beach he found out Stina was from Manhattan Beach and began to rattle of the names of spoiled frat boys that she may know (because he is really fucking cool and knows everyone you guys). She did not know any of them and I asked “how old are these people?”. “21”. Holy shit. He thinks Stina is 21. And me as well, by association, of course (just go with it, it’s how I sleep at night). Everyone was utterly shocked when they found out how old we really are. I’m not even kidding, genuinely shocked. Score 459 for team Rorina (Rory and Stina…can we do better?). Anyway, Stina talked me into being nice to him for the entertainment, so surely there will be more on this subject to come. We shall henceforth refer to him as Douchey McRich. I’ll probably change that tomorrow to something better, but I’m hungover and that’s the best I got.
It is now 8am and I am on a bus getting ready to go rappel down a waterfall inside a cave – and you all know Rory loves a good cave. And abseiling. And anything else that will prepare me to win the amazing race. And we might have to hitchhike tomorrow for a short stretch at a certain point when we hop off the bus. It’s a kiwi thing dad, don’t worry.