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!