Two

Two

The nighttime return from Camp A Low Hum to Wellington was as strange as this (cross-processed!) picture. Some highlights:
–The bus stop I’d been planning to use was apparently defunct. Or maybe it was just gone on holiday. A panicky 25 minute racewalk down dark, silent Coast Road (knowing the bus I was trying to catch was the last one that night) until I happened upon a tangible bus stop–hallelujah.
–Shortly after, swarmed by a posse of 6 or 7 drunk 15-yr-olds while waiting for the bus. After telling me I was extraordinarily good-looking (flatterers! but too right!) one of them tried to french-kiss me. Now I have a 15-yr-old boyfriend from Homedale.
–When the bus screeched up, I thought my misadventures were finally over. However, the bus contained a group of maybe 20 twenty-something guys who must have been some kind of Pornographic Young Men’s Chorus. Seriously. They started singing (really loud) these cool tribal songs, maybe Maori or Samoan? I don’t know. Then they moved on to this strange call-and-response type of song, kind of like a military training song. One guy would call out an insulting (but melodious!) line, like, “Pauly’s dick so TI-NY he don’t fit no CON-DOM” and then, amidst shouts of laughter, all the guys would sing the line, and then, without missing a beat, the main dude (shall we call him the cantor?) would sing something else vile and awesome. The singing was so loud it actually got a bit frightening. The bus driver just clenched his teeth and drove faster and faster. I really really wanted to turn around and snap a picture of the singers… but my better judgement prevented me.

In other News of New Zealand, today I was woken up by a giant weta crawling on my face. My worst nightmare, realized. Nothing can ever scare me again.

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