I went to see my first rugby match.
Not just my first in New Zealand. My first EVER. It was so awesome.
My friend Sam (see Sam’s Manor) booked the tickets, and after a bit of googling to figure out which team was which etc, I was ready to go.
I know the bare minimum about rugby. I know that there are different types, that there are five points to a try, and that Richie McCaw has fantastic thighs. I was worried I was going to be a little lost.
I wasn’t, though. It was surprisingly easy to follow.
You cheer when your team are pushing the right way, you boo when the opposing team scores. When a bad decision is made by the ref, you swear along with everyone else even though you wouldn’t know what a ‘bad decision’ was if it trod on your ankle.
My only trouble came with deciding which team to support. Obviously, my instinct was to go with the Hurricanes, me being Wellington based ‘n all. However, one of my work friends sitting next to me descends from Hamilton, and her screams of “YES”, “NO” and “GAY!” were infectious. I could not decide.
She made a bet with Sam that the losing fan would have to make an announcement over the intercom the next day at work, congratulating the winning team on their success. Needless to say, the Chiefs missed out, and Saturday in the department store was a little bit funnier because of it.
After the game, we went to see our friend Hayley at her birthday party. Hayley has just escaped from the department store because she’s found herself a real job. A job that is actually relevant to her degree. None of us are bitter.
The party was held upstairs in the function room of the General Practioner on Willis Street. We had a lot of fun, drank a lot of booze and ate a lot of cake.
Also, there was a stuffed deer in the bathroom. Made me poo my pants. Luckily, I was in the right place.