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| Don't bother trying to spot me in this photo. I took it |
Work do's for example. It's easy not to go to them, it requires more energy to attend. However, there are often alcoholic beverages on offer, so even if you end up talking to an idiot, the effect of the two-drink buzz can still make this fun.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying my workmates are all idiots. Just one or two.
The question then arises; would I actually travel with a whole group of them?
Of course not. Anything could happen. I'm not crazy.
Except...
I missed the inaugural ZB road trip last year. Not because I chose not to go, but simply because I didn't get the email.
Funnily enough, if I had got the email, I probably would have chosen not to go, but because I didn't even know it was happening, I felt totally left out. If there's any logic to be applied here, I certainly can't find it - it's just the way it worked out.
The upshot was, I really regretted missing out on the sand dune surfing, Matt Brown's generous ice cream shout and the unconfirmed reports of one or two social drinks. I expressed my regrets loudly and longly to the proper authorities and my address was duly added to the list for the next road trip.
Months passed, and I forgot all about any of it... until the emails started up again. The time was drawing near. The 2013 ZB Road Trip was becoming a reality and I began to appreciate what I'd hastily signed up for.
The destination was Taupo. The reason for the destination wasn't entirely clear, other than it was in more or less the opposite direction to last year's destination. This kind of reasoning stirred vague feelings of apprehension as I began to contemplate my forthcoming odyssey.
These nervous flutters intensified somewhat as prospective stops were discussed, but only as rough concepts, not solid, confirmed points on a map.
In fact, the itinerary was equally amorphous; departing 9AM Saturday, returning 6PM Sunday. That was it. 33 hours of... of what? I just didn't know - although there was talk of a reservation at an Indian restaurant, so at least we wouldn't starve.
"Come on, glennzb," I admonished myself. "You can't back out now. Who knows, it might actually be fun."
I'm not going to detail every step of our journey, hour by hour for two reasons. 1: I can't remember all of them exactly and 2: a lot of it just makes no sense whatsoever.
Why did we go to Morrinsville before Candyland for example? Candyland is in Taupiri, Morrinsville is in Morrinsville. Come to think of it, why did we go to Morrinsville at all? And is 11 o'clock too early in the morning to be buying jugs of beer? Or placing bets on horses?
You see? Only 2 hours in and there were already more questions than answers.
Like why did our bus driver think motoring down a random farmers' dirt driveway would get us back to Taupiri? Or was he just having a little joke? He had already shut himself in the luggage compartment while loading our bags in the bus. What a kidder.
I know we had lunch in Tirau. We wrote on the wall there so you can see the evidence too. In spite of the graffiti, this was quite a civilised gathering. Less betting on horses, more about eating lunch.
Things changed gear somewhat, once we reached Taupo.
I can't be too explicit here because I don't want anything to be taken down and used in evidence.
Things that didn't happen included minigolf, bungy-jumping and the hole-in-one challenge. I could claim this was because of the inclement weather conditions, but on reflection, I'm not sure any of these things were ever going to happen.
What we did do was force the bus driver to take us to the supermarket / bottle store. It wasn't a hijacking or anything, but I think he realised it was in his best interests to cooperate.
A brief party ensued. It was one of those who's-got-the-biggest-room, let's-all-hang-out-there situations. There may have been some social drinking.
Things do start to lose focus a bit at this point, although I'm pretty sure another bloke and I made plans to take the world by storm with a new drink we invented called the BLP. We carried out quite a bit of market market research, mostly on ourselves, but the feedback was very promising.
Back on the bus, off to the much rumoured Indian restaurant. This turned out to be just around the corner, although the bus driver drove us straight past it and around a few other completely unnecessary blocks to get there. Like I say, what a kidder.
Inevitably, Peter Dunne was there. Imagine how delighted he was to catch up with 21 members of the news media while in the process of hiding out from the news media. Especially 21 journos who'd been researching the effects of the BLP. Good sport though, even posed for photos, presumably willingly.
I'm going to leave the rest of the evening up to your imagination. I'll just suggest the words "karaoke", "oversized handles of beer" and "cigars" and leave you to it. Oh, you might want to add "pole dancing" just for a bit of colour. And because there was a pole.
Unfortunately, mornings-after follow nights like those - more unfortuately for some than others. One guy appeared at breakfast looking like watercolour painting that'd been left out in the rain; his face had run. Another guy spent some considerable time looking at his breakfast but not eating it. The women all looked sensational. How do they do that?
The weather was even worse than the day before, but again, I don't really think that's why we continued to not minigolf, bungy or hole-in-one. We did search for a decent cup of coffee and posed for stupid photos in front of the superloo.
For some, it was a very long trip home. Not for me though. I had a great time nattering away with my colleagues, or as I'd come to think of them after the previous night's activities, my comrades in arms.
And that, I believe, is the ultimate value of the ZB Road Trip; those of us who lived to tell the tale have been brought closer together, like any plucky, ragtag bunch that survives a disaster. In fact, we've become so close, I can now tell the various members of the online team apart, even though all of their names start with "J."
Now I really am annoyed I missed last year's trip, and not just because of the free ice cream. Sadly, Matt Brown couldn't make it this year, we could have done with his credit card to cover the cost of our cones at the Huka Honey Hive.
Maybe I'll persuade him to come along next year. I'll send him an email.
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| Setting the standard on the karaoke floor. Not a high standard, but a standard |
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