The much anticipated Auckland trip.
A chance to get out of the increasingly sleepy town of Raglan and spend a weekend in the big bad city.
Kellen and his school friends were on break and had planned a little New Zealand jaunt and Jordan and I were to join them.
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Jordan and I stop in Hamilton on the way and hit up the auto wreckers in search of a new rim for our slowly deflating tire. We are unsuccessful, become frustrated and go out for Mexican food instead.
We get into Auckland and go straight to the airport to pick up Kellen et al.
He finally emerges from customs along with his amazing companions: his cousin Nicole and classmate Ken.
When we finally locate the van, we all pile in and we're off. It's slightly nerve wracking as I'm driving through Auckland on an expired WOF and with three people crammed in the back without seat belts, or even real seats for that matter.
Getting to the hotel is a hassle in itself: I have no data and Kellen's Google Maps is majorly lagging. After several wrong turns (my fault) and some misdirection (Kellen's fault) we come into view of the hotel (hurray!) and then pass it (boo!) The Waldorf is under some serious construction and we can not figure out where to pull in, or even where to go to check in. We loop around the block over and over again in confusion before finally deciding to pull over on the street and walk towards the lobby. Easier said than done. We do eventually find a spot some four odd blocks away and at the top of a steep windey hill that leads to nothing. We get into the hotel and attempt to check-in. They don't have our reservation. It's not under Kellen's name, it's not under Nicole's name. Kellen explains that he booked it online.
"Did you get a confirmation email?" asks the unimpressed gentleman at the desk.
"Umm... no...?"
We're all at a loss and can't find any shred of evidence to support our claim. He suggests we walk down the street to the other Waldorf location and enquire there.
We do. They also have no record of our booking. We all stand out on the sidewalk laughing at the absurdity of it all. Kellen eventually books something else at a cheaper rate and Nicole prays that her credit card won't get charged for the first booking.
After getting lost several more times we roll up to the next hotel and check-in.
Apparently, the hotel parking lot is full. Fine. Street parking is free, but there are no spots nearby. There is a private parkade across the street, at full price. Whatever.
I somehow manage to squeeze the van through the crowded and awkwardly laid-out lot. I go to pay, the machine is malfunctioning. Attendants arrive and manage to sort it out, but my card still won't work. Finally, I realize that I have been inserting my credit card in the wrong way. We all breathe a sigh of relief that we've finally made it. Except for the fact that we can't enter our room for another 20 minutes while they are cleaning it. Luckily, we've wasted 10 of those minutes trying to park so we decide to get some booze and take away food.
Every restaurant on the black is Asian and none of us are in the mood for oriental food. We spot "Al's Deli" across the road and wander in to check it out.
Happiest coincidence ever. The menu has CAESARS! Not a Bloody Mary, but a real true caesar with clamato! And a multitude of garnishes! Poutine and bagels are also on the menu along with a variety of Canadian beers. Clearly, Al is one of us and God Bless him.
We all agree that we have to indulge in a caesar while we wait for our take-out food.
I can't describe to you the satisfaction I felt from that first sip. Sure, it was not nearly muddy enough and obviously I could make a way meaner one if I had the supplies, but it was a caesar and it tasted like home.
We return to the hotel. The Bianco is in stark contrast to the Waldorf. It is clearly a party hotel. The parallel alley is lined with massage parlours and smoke shops, our suite has 5 single beds and is sparsely decorated, we spot numerous questionable stains on the floor and walls.
We start mixing drinks and playing drinking games.
The night starts to slip away from us so we leave to meet up with the rest of Kellen and Ken's school friends.
They're at a cool pub overlooking the harbour. Introductions are made and the night begins. We go from bar to bar, never staying in one spot for longer than a couple drinks. I talk to everyone, a lot.
All I want to do is go dancing and I express this loudly and frequently throughout the evening. At one bar, I drag an unwilling participant through hoards of people towards, what I assume is a dance floor. Turns out it's just a weird courtyard full of people. It slightly resembles a mosh pit and no one is dancing. I decide to dance on a table until a bouncer kindly asks me to step down.
At the bar, a kerfuffle ensues when a random guy grabs a $20 note out of the hand of one of crew members. He is not happy. A couple guys intervene and try to calmly discuss the matter. Jordan suddenly wants to take it upon herself to dish out some justice. Nicole and I insist she not get involved, but Jordan is heated. "I just want to talk to him!" she insists, "For feminists everywhere!"
In the end the money is returned and the antagonist ends up inviting the guys to go cray fishing in the morning. The perks of partying with future lawyers of Canada.
We wander back to the hotel to pass out. Kellen swears that he has set an alarm for 8 am so that one of us can run down and move the van.
I wake up suddenly and immediately know that it's not going to be a good day. I feel like garbage and it's 8:45. I move as quickly as my body will allow, only to find that I already have a parking ticket. Cool. It's for $65. Even better.
I feed the meter and return to bed.
Then begins my wonderful hungover tradition of vomiting bile precisely every 10 minutes. Jordan is in similar shape so at least I'm not alone. Misery really does love company.
The other kids want to go get food but Jordan and I opt to stay in bed. I decide a shower might help and lay on the tiles letting the water fall over me. I try to wash my hair, but the hotel shampoo smells like a cocktail and causes me to gag. When I finish, I realize the shower perimeters are non-existent and rather than drain into the floor, the water has flooded through the entire bathroom and there are no towels left to mop it up. Excellent.
The rest return with kebabs and fries in hand. I eat a few fries in the hopes of improving my bleak situation. They don't help. In fact, they make things worst. I can feel the colour drain from my face and I excuse myself to chunder. Jordan's greatly improved and they all want to go to Al's for more caesars, but my hangover is getting worst by the minute. Kellen calls me a wuss, but it's my body that's forsaking me, not my mind. They leave and I go back to bed.
I'm awoken by my door opening to reveal an embarrassed and apologetic house keeper.
"I didn't know anyone was in here." He certainly did not expect to find someone sleeping at 3 in the afternoon.
I try to respond, but my words are gibberish.
"Go back to bed," he coos, "I'll just tidy up out here."
Thank you kind sir for removing the plethora of stinking empty beer bottles from the vicinity.
I wake up when the others return and feel greatly improved. We go out for Korean food and I even manage a beer. Nicole gets hit with a paralyzing migraine and retreats to the hotel.
The rest of us meet the other guys at the casino. I feel slightly sheepish as Kellen's friends all seem to know a lot about me and I consider it a victory that I remember most of their names. Someone brings up that I was an English major, the other references my time living in Calgary. Jesus, did I announce my life story last night? On top of that, they're all drunk, rowdy and gambling, while I'm stone sober, don't gamble and am struggling to finish my beer.
We head over to a little Irish bar. Ken and I make up alternate identities and then pretend to be spies. Over the raucous I hear a loud "THUMP." Kellen has fallen off his stool and is sprawled across the floor. He is promptly kicked out so we all finish our drinks and call it a night.
I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining and I feel GREAT! Life is good! We go out for breakfast and do some site-seeing. A very enjoyable day with one hilarious highlight:
We pass a costume shop and I exclaim, "Ooh! I want a fur coat!"
To which Kellen replies, "Well, you can put a pig in a dress..."
This is the nature of our friendship, rude comments. Nothing he says ever offends me. What Kellen doesn't anticipate was the woman standing right behind him who says, "Let me guess. You're American" then precedes to ream him out. She probably thinks Kellen is my abusive boyfriend. I play up the part of the victim by pouting, "He's just always so mean to me!"
I want so badly to high five my girl-power champion. We spend the day wandering, snacking and exploring. Night falls and Jordan and I reluctantly gather our things and begin the drive back to Raglan, but of course, we stop at the Huntley McDonalds on the way.
We have the wonderful task of moving the next day.
An incredible weekend with a bunch of beauties. Back to reality, for now, anyway.
