My bid to become a ‘comedian’ or B-list entertainer to help me avoid a criminal conviction ran out of time last week.  I had hoped one of the major dailies or new networks would run a story about me titled “Comedian Who Makes People Laugh And Therefore Shouldn’t Be Convicted Of Anything Ever”.
Didn’t happen. Apparently they hadn’t heard of me.  Anyway, it was all part of the preparations for the Great No Worries Tour 2011.
The regular participants in the last decade of GNWTs are a shady bunch, a lawyer or two, a banker, the mystery man, and the odd farmer.  This year’s trip was to watch Ireland play the USA at New Plymouth on Sunday.
Instead of doing the sensible thing and assembling in New Plymouth, the decision was made that a pre-game team meeting was required in Wellington.  That was our first mistake.
FRIDAY: Assemble for important ‘bonding’ session at waterfront restaurant as team members arrive from all over country.  These are important just to set some ground rules and make sure everyone is aware of their responsibilities.  Note to self: martinis are not lunch.  Have brief moment of clarity when I realize the “non-drinking Christian” chap driving us to New Plymouth is dancing half-naked on a table.
I ask him how he is going to get on driving us and not being able to drink.  At this point he becomes enraged.  This is Team Leader Philip’s first “little white lie” of the weekend.  Spend evening scouring Wellington bars looking for “non-drinking Christian” drivers to take us to New Plymouth.
SATURDAY: Jeremy is too ill to drink, so becomes designated driver.  This lasts until Porirua, when he undergoes a miraculous recovery at a tavern.  Two Moroccan hitchhikers hired in his place.  They only want to go to Levin, so we kidnap them to drive us.  They do a runner in Wanganui after we make the mistake of stopping at the local Black Power bar.  With the van now a smouldering wreck, we get a taxi driver to take us to New Plymouth.  We end up hitching from Hawera. Locals very understanding after Noel explains he was “not trying to hotwire that car.”
SUNDAY: Have lost Michael, but I appear to be wearing his clothes and have his wallet and cellphone.  Don’t remember much apart from an Irish fan saying “Absinthe puts hairs on your chest.  Slainte!”  I have a broken scalpel blade in my shoulder.  Phone call from New Plymouth police asking us to pick up naked Michael alerts us to his whereabouts.  On way to station pass a man who appears to be wearing my jacket.  And shoes.  Other GNW tourists refuse to turn car around and give chase as he appears to have escaped from a maximum security wing somewhere.
Michael, wearing a tasteful white plastic boiler suit, explains he was found in the corner of a bar naked and taken into custody.  Noel remembers me demanding Michael’s clothes after I was stabbed by an angry American rugby fan when I asked whether they would invade Ireland if they lost.
Very subdued bunch before match kickoff.  A few Guinnesses would no doubt perk us up, but every bar we go to has security camera photos of us on a “do not enter” list.  Lots of memory loss getting filled in.
Eventually we head to Taranaki Stadium ,arriving to see the ‘sold out’ signs.  “Lucky I bought tickets, eh?” I said, just as I realized why my now-missing jacket was so important.
Oh well, who wanted to watch the rugby anyway?