White-knuckle taxi driver fever

Lately I've been having a bit of fun quietly comparing and contrasting the sorts of taxi drivers I get who pick me up on workday mornings.

But first, a bit of backstory – since losing the second (my left) leg to amputation a year ago July, my mobility has dropped drastically. When I was just one leg down and living up here on the wild aerie-cliffs of the Valley they call Aro, I was easily managing the walk down the hill and then along the flat streets to my job in Welly's CBD.

Then off came the second leg. And that took a serious chunk of wind out of my sails. I couldn't walk far at all, at first. And for some time after.

So, I quickly got used to catching a cab from my house, down to the closest bus stop. This isn't an extremely far distance, but, it is downhill, at a fevered pitch, which I suddenly realised was an impossible traverse. (Until just recently! I've been doing the walk! More on this in a future Blog).

Walking on the flat ground is challenging enough when you're missing both legs below the knee ... inclines and declines are really no fun whatsoever. And nigh-on impossible just after a big op. And ... TRULY impossible, but hilarious, with 7 or possibly 14 beers on board ...

Now, after catching many such cabs (five days a week) I've noticed my cabbies fall into a one of a few distinct categories.

The Combined cabs are sometimes festively painted with "green" icons
like this Tui bird, denoting how green the cabs are. And many are
hybrids – petrol and battery things.  The newest ones are quite
tiny, however, and folding my lanky self into such a cramped thing
(with legs that don't really bend all that easily) can be an amusing sight.

I stick to one taxi company in town – Wellington Combined – primarily because they're the only ones who accept my half-price Gimp Special taxi card. (It's one of the MANY bonuses of being a double amputee!) They are also the best taxi company in town, for the high percentage of drivers who speak English, who are presentably dressed, and, who know their way around the city really well.

However – not every driver can handle my super-narrow, super-steep, winding, crazy street.

Some can. These are the folks who confidently zoom up and down my narrow street without a care. They can also reverse and turn a cab around on a dime (if we had such things as dimes here). These cool cats are obviously the best of the lot – they're usually fun to chat with too.

There are a good number of drivers who lack some – or all – of these basic skills, however. Reversing seems to not be a requirement of this company (or they faked it really well in a large, flat, empty parking lot when they did their tests).  But the best one not to have (for my purposes of noticing absurd behaviour) is the one about being comfortable driving on a narrow road.

A lot of these wanna-be pilots are of the white-knuckle variety, too – with zero (or perhaps even negative) confidence on narrow roads. They demonstrate this instantly, with two hands in a firm death-grip on the wheel, one extremely tense foot planted mercilessly on the brakes, barely inching down the road. And they look like owls, staring grimly head, NOT blinking.

Now my road isn't anywhere near as death-defying as this. But
watching some of these cabbies drive ... you would think it was!

Now when I say my road is narrow, it's not like an Incan pathway through a forest. Nor is it an insanely high rocky cliff miles above the earth. It is high though. And the road is a fair bit narrower than your standard city street.

There is ample space between the cliffside/parked cars, and the guard-rail side overlooking a potential death plunge into the valley hundreds of metres below.

This aspect of the drive is clearly demonstrated by the confident, good drivers when I ride with them.

None of these people have ever dinged a parked car, nicked a guard rail, or driven us off over the edge, to die in a fireball of calamity, down in the gaping maw of the jungle far below.

Yet.

No, Marvin Martian isn't
aiming to disintegrate us,
you panicky cabbie you!

But the non-confident ones approach this descent like it's a blazing Space Shuttle ride into an unforgiving atmosphere, while dodging space junk and flaming meteorites.

Or while being pursued and shot at by evil marauding space aliens.

While this isn't precisely what a Welly cab's dash looks like, they do
have most of these toys and implements. There's the 'next job'
dash computer, a stereo/radio/iPod player, doo-dads for climate
control, receipt printer, and credit card machine.  Now if YOU
were in mortal fear of dying by death-plunge down a steep ravine,
would YOU be monkeying with this stuff, while also trying
to drive and avoid dying in a flaming wreck? No. No you would NOT.

While this makes me grin (and secretly hope their over-compensating won't result in the above-mentioned careening plunge into the valley below) ... what REALLY rustles my jimmies are the scaredy-cat ones who start out with both hands white-knuckled on the wheel ... then seconds later, they decide to remove one hand, and start punching buttons on their dashboard computer (or the stereo, or the air/con...), like the magic buttons are going to fire off stabilising rockets, or training wheels out the sides.

This is classic cabbie behaviour, most times. When they're on a flat road, with no immediate or imminent death threats from cliffs, parked cars, space aliens, astroid fields, dinosaurs, moose, or long sudden drops into a rocky abyss nearby ... they monkey with the dash computer, looking for the next trip they might be able to pick up after they drop me off. In these benign conditions, this makes sense.

But when they do this manic fumbling around, rapidly jabbing at the computer buttons WHILE they look like they're about to soil themselves in abject fear of the mayhem and doom my road may spring on them ... I have to wonder, what is going through their minds?

The less-than-good drivers are also guaranteed make comments about the road while attempting all this. My street's name is Mt. Pleasant Road, and they almost always make a jape about how it "ain't so pleasant". Ha ha.

Moo. A beef bovine of the type that once was
farmed up on the cliffs where I live. 

I love trying to get them to laugh, as I explain that the road is simply the old cattle path from the days of yore, when cows were led down the cliff to the slaughter houses below (this is TRUE!**) ... and when it came time to make an actual road, they didn't make the cow path any wider. They just paved over it.

This rarely gets a laugh (well, I chuckle), as the drivers are, as mentioned, practically blind with panic. More often, though, my jests (but TRUE STORIES!) seem to encourage more frantic button-pushing on the dashboard screens.

** Bit of historical background on my 'hood – There was at one time, in Welly's early days, a large cattle ranching operation here. Yes, up on the very cliff-tops I live on. Beef cattle. 

I am in fact living in a turn-of-the-20th century house (it has since been modernised) which got its start as a ranch-hands' lodgings. Every so often the ranchers would march these steers down the cliff-side, to the slaughter houses below ... along the very pathway that would eventually become my paved street.

This is not an isolated incident here in Welly. One 'hood over from me, in Brooklyn, there was once the largest dairy-farming operation in all of Wellington, on a cliff-face just as precarious as mine. 

For some absurd reason, the invading English thought cows of all kinds would prefer living atop cliffs

While cows are a thing of the past up on the Aro Valley
cliffs, there are some roosters and chooks nearby! I hear
them in the mornings ... along with a few goats.

and mountains, rather than in the grassy fields from whence they came, before getting shoved onto a boat to come to New Zealand. 

As well, there are many modern suburbs up the sides of the myriad cliff-sides that surround Wellington. These started out life at the same time as the cattle and dairy ranches, by being established way up the sides of mountains. Just like how they situated their cattle operations, these merry seagoing Brits also seemed to think that blazing up hill, through jungle, to make narrow trails to live on perilous cliffs was the proper thing to do. 

Do long ocean voyages make people completely lose their marbles? The evidence seems to indicate this is so. Hey, look at me. I'm a guy with two missing legs living up here. The usually-simple act of just leaving home to go to work is a pretty huge challenge. So while I have no urge to go "full retard", and obtain and manage livestock up here ... maybe my marbles got temporarily misplaced when it came time for me to pick a place to live?

Maybe.

On the non-absurd side of the taxi coin, I do get plenty of cabbies who are good drivers (as mentioned), and who like to chat and have loads of great stories. Lots are from other countries, and their backstories are cool and enthralling. I've toyed with the idea of doing a "Cabbies of Wellington" blog at some point.

Maybe, Part II.

Anyway, let's post this puppy.  In this blog, I haven't yet mentioned beer, IPA beer, beer fests, craft beer, craft beer pubs, or the many fine craft beer breweries of Wellington in this blog (oops, but it appears I have just now!) I add these words now, shamelessly, in hopes to inspire more 'hits' on this Blog today ... as all these topical and beery things are popular searches on the net.

Taxi drivers? Not so much.

Now, IPA-swilling, craft-beer-brewing cabbies ... I bet THAT'S a topic that's just WAITING to bust wide open!

I remain

And don't forget your supplemental reading for extra points!

Tune on in to Brew-Ha-Ha to see what zany beer antics Don has been up to! There have been some trips to local crafty breweries in and around Toronto ...
Then crank the dial on over to Glenn's new blog, The Pizza Dude's IPA tales! Glenn is really, really hooked on IPAs now ...
And finally, fine-tune your internet box for fun and enjoyment with Cat over at The Cat Came Back ....

Sevens Redux

If you've been following along with these adventures at home, last week I presented the "preamble" blog to me heading out the door to attend the Sevens festivities/absurdities.

It's Wednesday here now, a solid FIVE days after I spent the day down there at Queen's Wharf.

I had plenty of time to do a follow-up on the weekend, but once again, I got distracted by being a lazy, shiftless procrastinator.

So. The rumpus! Fun was indeed had. How could there not be fun ... at such a thing?

But a few things changed. It had been three years since I last attended this fun thang – two of which were due to recovering from being de-legged, and one where it rained the whole time (in fact, from a day or two before the festival/tournament started).

Well. This time it rained a bit too! But not at the start of the day, when I went down to Queen's Wharf, and Bin44, to meet with a few like-minded folks like Manchester Simon and Kyrgyzstan Alex and South African Aimee, to take in the costumed and alcohol-fuelled madness. It was a nice sunny day

It's all about the costumes. And if you're a straight guy, it's
all about the hot babes in slinky costumes.

right from the start, when I woke up ... right up to about 3 pm, when we found ourselves dashing through a sudden downpour to traverse the short distance over to Chicago's patio to watch New Zealand play their first game (against Fiji, who NZ lost against!) of the tournament, because Bin44 no longer had a TV of any kind.

But I get ahead myself.

I was first on the scene at Bin44 right at the stroke of noon, and I snagged a table. It was just starting to fill up there, and costumed funsters were already plentiful.  I ordered up a new IPA I'd never tried, a Yeastie Boys "The Right Stuff". Verdict: most excellent! I also got a huge salad that had chicken and a poached egg and tons of veggies. I reckoned it was a good plan to have something healthy before the rampant boozing started ... which it did, as soon as I finished the salad.

Yep, costumes make the fun! Of course booze fuels the costume-wearing, and the general manic behaviour
that goes along with the wearing of costumes. This is the first collage of two ... 

Straight away, I noted Bin44 had NO TV. Last time I was there they had one. I figured they'd at least have that going, tuned to TVNZ for the free live coverage. I also noticed that the configuration of Chicago's patio (right across from Bin44) had been completely swapped around, so that we could NOT see their giant screen from the Bin44 patio. I thought that was rather rude and childish ... but I didn't know the extent of their churlishness, yet, at that point ...

And a bunch more of the better costumes. Some creative entries here. Also, some babes.

Simon showed up, and two other pals Sarah and Lou ambled by enroute to the Caketin (they had tickets). Simon and I synched up our drinks (this is remarkably easy to do when there are just two people in a group ... with 3 or more, the drink synching is akin to herding cats. And the level of difficulty of said cat herding increases exponentially with each drink consumed) .... and started into observing/ogling costumes, and commenting on same. We checked the schedule and noted that New Zealand was about to play at 3 pm.

So we opted to temporarily abandon the really GOOD beer and go have some of the sub-standard swill Chicago serves, long enough to watch the game on their huge screen.

Except - they didn't show it. They had NO actual Sevens games on the screen.

What DID they show, you ask?

The screen displayed ... the drunken, costumed people who were staggering around in the patio area in front of the screen. And, the drunks who were standing up on a ledge closer to the screen, to get a better look at themselves on the big screen. Also, some people who clearly went to a gym a lot who were down to their skivvies in a big outdoor hot tub. They, too, were drunk, and given to fits of standing up and dancing, and attempting to get everyone else to look at them.

But no actual Sevens games.

This new IPA from Yeastie Boys
was indeed The Right Stuff!

So, we chugged our low-rent, mass-produced beer and quickly went back to Bin44 to formulate a new plan, over a proper craft-brewed IPA (returning once again to Yeastie Boys' fine fare – The Right Stuff). We had a few other bar choices in the immediate area (like, within half a dozen steps) to check out, and see if they had the games on a screen.

I suggested we try Foxglove, as THEY had screens all over the place, the last time I was there ... and so, the new adventure was afoot! We ducked around the corner into that bar, to discover they they indeed did have a bunch of screens. Also, a lot more costumed revellers (but thankfully, no hot tub – hey, if the hot tub in front of Chicago was full of women, I'd have allowed it. But there were far too many frat boys in there).

But, sadly, Foxglove had even worse beer than Chicago's.

However ... we were now into Hour Four of drinking, so at this point it didn't matter quite as much Bin44 and bring them in to Foxglove, and in doing so, we'd have a match made in drunken heaven ... but then Aimee showed up for a brief while, and then at some point we somehow synched up our drinking again (with THREE people, even!) and went back to Bin44 and met Alex. A German girl Simon knew as a client showed up a bit later too. These two girls were really quite sober, as they had (for some reason) chosen to actually go to work that day. So they were just now starting in on the imbibing. Hmm.

Inside that seething mass on the deck of Foxglove, we found screens showing
some Sevens matches! Also loads more be-costumed revellers. But
sadly – shitty beer. As Meat Loaf said ... 2 out of 3 ain't bad.

when it came to exactly how long we hung out to watch a game or two, swill bad beer, and take in more zany costumes. It briefly occurred to me to try and figure a way to go get some good beers from

Throughout the day, Simon had been industriously keeping track of the names of the good beers we tried at Bin44. He was typing them onto the Notes app on his phone. I had to admire his perseverance. I stopped counting the number of beers consumed on nights of unbridled fun a long time ago ...  We'd try something new, then go back to the tried-and-true IPA. This was a sound plan, until we suddenly realised by 6 pm we were having a lot of other beers between a bunch of IPAs. So, we were succeeding in getting quite sloshed.

Simon was starting to slide off his high stool, so he opted to slink on down to a lower chair next to a table. There were apparently people at this table whom he knew. Alex wanted to go towards other craft bars in the city ... after that, my notes get fuzzy. Or blurry. Not really sure ...

So, conclusion?

Overall, this visit to the Sevens was fun! But, not as super-crazy fun as in the past. That is primarily due to not knowing beforehand that Chicago's setup had de-evolved into a big silly frat party, without any option for yelling at a big screen and the team of rugby players you're supporting. If we'd known that, we could have avoided that absurd idea, and more sensibly divided our time between Bin44 (best beer and food options) and Foxglove (lots of screens scattered about showing the matches, and, loads of zany costumed drunks and hot babes).

Weirdly and absurdly, the "no screens/no broadcast at all" thing really skewed my reality for a moment or two when I realised what was happening. I got over it, fast enough. But ... seriously, Chicago and Bin44? Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot?!

When I first got to the Queen's Wharf area,  and noticed no TV at Bin44,  I fathomed they'd given up on having a TV – because Chicago is a big silly American-style sports bar and has loads of them (and oddly none of those were showing the Sevens matches inside, either) ... and, during previous Sevens weekends, Chicago had the games up on their massively huge rented bigscreen for all to enjoy.

Chicago's setup was essentially now just a huge costumed pissup without a hint of anything Sevens-like.  Which was the whole reason for this weekend-long festival. Which was ... stupid.

It was like some complete moron had taken charge of Chicago and just haphazardly decided: "Who needs to see rugby games on this weekend called Rugby Sevens?! I know! We'll aim cameras at the drunks and they can watch ... THEMSELVES on the big screen!"

There were a couple of other "WTF?" moments from the weekend, too.  As usual, some stupid reporter angling for a down-side, sensational aspect to the whole thing will stir the pot – by begging and prodding  Sevens organisers and cops for negative quotes about the drunken, costumed revellers. Which ... absurdly ... is the main driving reason why the bars and stadium make so much money in such a short period of time, and, which give cops the opportunity for a bit of overtime, and, more money.

Every year the organisers and cops always have their canned response: "Well there were a few people who went too far, but overall it was OK". This year, however ... there was whinging. Someone must have REALLY been pestering them for just such bits of whining.

Even though it wasn't many people who needed ejecting from the stadium, compared to how many were well enough behaved, there were vague rumblings about "needing to do something!" and "we'll look at options for next year!" Much like weather reports, these sorts of vague and pointless statements are quickly forgotten the next day ...

However, when translated, these sorts of vague statements mean ... someone who has NO clue how to have fun is now in some level of management where they can make senseless decisions and make the event less fun for everyone.

The last thing that really rustled my jimmies on this most fun of weekends ... the grand-prize winner of Best Costume for the event ($10, 000!) was some witless jackwagon who was aptly named Steve Skidmore.

Skidmore won the prize, then had the fecking GALL to whine: "This place is an absolute zoo, I'm not coming back," he said. "They have to have a good look at what's going on here." 

Here's Steve Skidmore in his
$10K winning ensemble.
Skidmore is a dick.
And a whingey
toolbag of a bitch.

Nice bit of protesting on you there, Skid-boy. 

Say, why don't you REALLY and PROPERLY protest the thing, and give that $10K to the first runner up? Or to a charity?

No, no, he's keeping the dough. He's got shit to buy.

And of course, he didn't just stumble into this event for the first time, and throw together a quick costume, not knowing what was going to happen all day long. 

No. 

Skidly McWhingey knows all too well what happens at the Sevens. He's been there plenty of times before.

So he KNOWS there's drinking and loud, crazy, lascivious behaviour. 

So fuck you, Skidly. 

We don't WANT your kind at our fun event. Back to playing bridge and crocheting with you. 

Well. We'll take what we learned at this year's Sevens and hit the fun zone again next year, better armed with where to go and what to do.

Now, for the rest of the summer's potential for fun!

There are upcoming beer fests of course, one of which (BrewDay!)

More impending fun! And yes, I'll be attending!

I'll be heading to on March 8 – it's in Martinborough, which for the uninitiated is a 1-hour train ride out of Wellington.

Martinborough is primarily a winery region, but of course you can build breweries anywhere (and yes, we WILL come!) So it's an all-day affair of tastings and food and fun. Then, a drunken train ride back into Wellington where I'm certain the fun will continue ...

Until then, I'll be

... and you can put on a crazy costume and be whoever or whatever you like!

Supplemental reading list – do it! Now!

Please be sure to tune on in to all things crafty-beer-like and fun over at Brew-Ha-Ha, where my mate Don is up to the usual high-speed, alcohol-fuelled antics!

And then hit up Glenn over at 'Shwa Stories and find out what it's like to be a man who has suddenly and happily found salvation in proper craft-made IPA beers (we finally got to him!)

Then be certain to delve deep into Cat's musings here at The Cat Came Back ... wherein, our blogging mate waxes eloquently about HER love for all things crafty and beery!

Good timing

Vacations!

There can never really be a BAD time for them, now, can there?

But sometimes those fun little stat holidays that show up throughout the year can really be extraordinarily timely.

Here in New Zealand (for my northern-hemisphere homies ... you outlanders currently up to your frozen giblets, covered in polar-vortex splooge) we get a lot of holiday days during our summer months. (This includes December before Xmas, and well past January 1 ... as this is our summer). I'm knee-deep in the hoopla of summer and these exciting holidays now, as we speak.

There are the regular 3 and 4-day weekends that never change (where you get a Monday, or a Monday and Friday off. And there are a few "floating" days that appear on a specific day in the month no matter what. So sometimes you have to get creative (like Enron-math creative!) in how you might be able to factor a mid-week holiday day into a nice long weekend.

This coming week, we have a national holiday called Waitangi Day. It has to do with the signing of the treaty where the English formalised the invasion and take-over of New Zealand from the native Māori. You know, just like how Canada and the USA got started. It was, essentially, a heist. Or as Frankie Boyle explains: (Click to view a :10 second video of Frankie Boyle outlining the essence of how a lot of countries get started).

Much like every holiday in Canada and the US, it's another day off work for most folks here, which also means a good excuse to go drinking. There are concerts and tributes and whatnot, but mostly, it's a day off.

LBQ is a cool, fun craft beer bar here, and this
Thursday - Waitangi Day - Panhead takes over the taps!

And, as the Good Timing Fairy would have it, on Thursday, one of the super-fun craft beer bars here – LBQ – is hosting a Tap Takeover by one of our top local brewers, Panhead! So guess where I'll be on Thursday afternoon!)

Waitangi Day falls on Thursday.

Which leaves Friday as a sitting duck for most people to take it off, too (as an "annual leave" day) ... which is one of those sneaky end-around-runs I talked about up there, for making a floating holiday day into a long weekend.

This particular time, it all adds up to a four-day weekend. Not too shabby - for the cost of one annual leave day (we get a minimum of 4 weeks of them here every year, and I'm up to 5 weeks now), we get a four-dayer.

This is ESPECIALLY timely on the "Big Fun" scale, because the annual Sevens Rugby Tournament starts here in Welly on the Friday.

I have expounded loud and long on this Sevens event before. It's a bunch of rugby teams from all over the world (Canada included!) playing this 1/2-sized, scaled-down version of full Rugby matches. The clue is in the name ... there are 7 players aside instead of 15 (a full rugby team), and the games are much shorter (7 minutes a half, for a grand total of 14 minutes**). It's an offense-fest, and a speed test.

Each day of the two-day tournament features 20+ matches. It's fast, it's furious. It's fun ... and for lots more reasons than just fast, furious rugby. It has a LOT to do with drinking, and, the wild costumes the fans wear!

** (Due to the short duration of each half of a Sevens rugby game, it is entirely possible to miss a whole game, as you leave your seat and attempt to go for a leak and a beer run in a crowded bar, or the stadium ... yep, take if from an expert. Missing a match is extremely easy to do).

Yes, the costumes ... THAT concept is mostly the rumpus! There is no rule that says you, as a fan, HAVE to wear a crazy costume. But here in Wellington, home of the New Zealand leg of this Sevens tourny, Wellington fans do. Bigtime. HUGE time. And not just individual costumes – people get together in large groups and dress everyone to a theme. There is a contest, with a good chunk of change as prizes, for best costumes in various categories.

The part of the costume thing I like are actually three parts.

(1) Hot babes – Loads of really hot women dress up in slinky, revealing costumes. No surprise there why I find that appealing. For you North Americans, think "Hallowe'en", and the sorts of costumes hot babes wear to parties. Yeah.

Now factor in that drinking for the fans is just about as fast, furious, hard and heavy as the rugby action on the field.

(2) Superheroes – there are lots of really cool and well-executed superhero costumes too. These are worn by both guys AND girls. As The Avengers, Superman and Batman (and affiliated characters) from Marvel and DC have really been popular in movies lately, I'll expect lots of these sorts of outfits. It's here, too, that women can tweak a superhero costume and make it WAY more sexy than what the costume traditionally is meant to portray.

(3) Other really wild bursts of creativity – There'll also be lots of sci-fi themed outfits, cartoon characters like The Simpsons and The Flintstones, and many other sorts of creative, interesting or fun outfit themes you can imagine.

And yes, as mentioned, there is drinking. Easily accessible, relentless and heavy ... excessive in some cases (lightweights happen, much like on New Year's Eve). But the whole tourny, from a fan perspective, is clearly an alcohol-driven bit of fun (like so many things in New Zealand are!)

The two main choices for viewing the games, and the costumed fun and hilarity, are either buying a spendy ticket to the stadium (which I've done a few times, and is excellent fun), or just front up for free at one of 5-6 bars around the Queen's Wharf area and drink there. Pretty much every costumed reveller shows up there too, throughout each day (the tourny start at Noon on Friday, and people start amasssing at these bars then ... however, many people start drinking WELL BEFORE noon. And given that the day before (Thursday) is a holiday ... yeah. It's going to start out in high gear when the first game kicks off at noon.

Bin 44 is a great little spot on Queen's Wharf, that now
features excellent craft beer. I'll be right there, on that patio.

My plan this year: front up to the bars at Queens Wharf and meet friends there. It's location-specific too, it'll be Bin 44, the relatively new Craft Beer Bar there. In previous years it's always been Chicago bar, which is a blast (and they have the huge jumbo-tron style screen for watching the games). But they only serve the bog-standard "big boy" mass produced beer. And as you well know, if you've been following my blog, when given the choice between good craft beer and that other boring sludge? It's crafty beers all the way.

So – that's just about the most perfect equation imaginable for "good timing" ... a really long weekend to stretch out the fun, with a couple of days afterwards to recover from it. Oh, I didn't mention, I'm taking the Monday off work too. You know, for ... reasons. And science! Science, because 5 days off is "> greater than" (aka: a lot more) fun than 4!

Now as evidence of how much fun goes on at this Sevens thing ... here's a montage of costume photos from past Sevens events. I snagged a bunch, but there are endless more I could have grabbed. This will give you the idea of what's in store for the casual viewer camped out at Bin 44 or any of the other bars in the Queens Wharf area:

So you get the idea – just endless blasts of creativity and hotness, in the sun, with drinks, over two days.
Oh and some great rugby matches too!

And as an added bonus, here are a whack of my own Sevens photos from years past: 2007 2008 2009 2010.

Now as also mentioned, I'll be in the middle of all this from about noon on Friday. Traditionally Canada plays either the first or second game, so it's good to be down there, with beer in hand, near the big screen, to watch and cheer on my countrymen's rugby boys as they tilt away and do their best.

Also, it's wise to have a really good lunch so as to avoid the rookie mistake of pouring a lot of beer into an empty stomach.I will of course have cameras at hand (my phone and my pocket digital) so expect a follow-up blog with loads of current photos soon after.

I may be able to manage that on the Sunday or Monday just after the big finalé on Saturday. For certain, I'll blast a few up on Facebook as the day unfolds. And you can bet there'll be many photos of absurdities ... when you mix sun, drinks and crazy/sexy costumes, you know nuttiness is going to happen.

After all ... heavy drinking, in the sun, in disguise, is the perfect SUB-equation for hilariously absurd photo opportunities! (Yeah, bitches, MORE SCIENCE!)Ah yes – I left out the other really good aspect of this week and all this fun.

The work week that kicks off tomorrow is only going to be THREE days long ... and just FOUR days next week.

Go Canada!

Oh and as per usual, be sure to tune in to Don's merry beer drinking blog over at Brew-Ha-Ha! He's been hard at it, researching heavily, and mixing it up bigtime in his quest to know more about the various beers at hand!

And a big shout-out goes to my pal, and fellow Canadian Rob Martin (and his mates!) as they embark on a two-week journey of fun and adventure, touring the South Island – they'll be arriving in Wellington (from some dairy farm up north) to catch a ferry on Waitangi Day, which is super good timing to join me at LBQ for the Panhead Tap Takeover!

Yours, in maximum fun ...