The night he almost died
One of the things I had to do while I was home for Christmas in New Zealand was to catch up with one of my favourite drinking buddies, Browny. He was staying at his Mum Wendy’s place in Tauranga. This was as good a spot as any to kick off our shenanigans as it was known as a New Years hotspot. Luckily enough it was the weekend of New Years Eve.
I arrived late afternoon after long drive up from my parents place in Levin. I rang Browny about 15 minutes out and told him to put the beers on ice. He had already read my mind and had the beers in the fridge all day. And when I say beers there was more than enough for the two of us.
With a beer in my hand we sat on the lawn spinning yarns about how everyone had turned into pussies and how much of a shit hole Palmerston North had become. The sun was hot and the shit talking was even hotter.
As we finished our first half dozen we both decided it was a good option to prepare for the rest of the night. This meant one of two things. The first was showering. The second was that the person not showering had to finish a drink by the time the other was out of the shower. Browny went first and I thought that I would just shotgun my can so I didn’t have to worry about how long he was going to be. This was probably my first mistake of the night.
The last beer wasn’t sitting to well in my stomach as I jumped in the shower. I thought a tactical spew would make me feel a million times better but it didn’t. So I decided to drink through the pain. Luckily after a few more beers we switched to the jagermeister. Macca showed up not long after and he dug straight into some cheap wine. Me and Browny proceeded to finish off most of a bottle for the next few hours, while drinking cask wine straight from the bladder.
It soon came time to vacate the house. We probably would have been thrown out anyway, but at least we had got Wendy in a good mood by feeding her a few Jagermeisters. The taxi arrived and the three of hopped in. This is about the time things went pear shaped.
We spun some yarns to the taxi driver about cricket and he loved it. He was laughing at the shit coming out of our mouths, but little did he know how our night was going to turn out. My memory of the trip was a bit hazy - and I bet you can tell where this is going. We were dropped off outside a pub, yet we didn’t quite make it in there. Browny thought he knew some boys that worked for NZ Van Lines. However none of us are really sure because no one really remembers. But we all remember the foul tasting liquid that was on offer - Vodka with a dash of lemonade. Intoxicating.
The rest is history - more on the fragmented memories later though. We all woke up in the morning back at Wendy’s house. I was sleeping on a bed fully clothed with nothing but a rug for warmth. Macca was in the bed next to me fully clothed with all my blankets. Bastard. Browny was in the laundry in a bed completely naked but luckily with a duvet to cover him. He started groaning shortly after I woke up.
Wendy arrived not long after with that look on her face. I have seen this quite a few times before. I knew there was going to be trouble so I tried to hide my massive torso under the tiny rug. It didn’t quite work. “Do you know what happened to you last night Matthew”, she bellowed. “You were brought home by the Police after they found you swimming in the harbour”.
Macca and I both cracked up. Wendy was not impressed. “And where were you two when this was going on”, she screamed at us. I looked as sheepish as Macca felt. Both of us didn’t have a clue. The last thing I remembered was drinking the worst drink in the world. Everyone else was the same. Apparently Browny was brought home around midnight after being fished out of the harbour. Well that’s how Wendy told the story, and she was the only one who claimed to know the truth. She also claimed the Police were going to come back today to question Browny.
Browny however did have some noticeable effects of something big happening to him. There were a number of scratches and his clothes were wet and stunk, though no item of clothing seemed to be marked in any way. His wallet was drenched and his phone was not working. This could all easily be explained though. Wendy was known for her scare tactics, and hardly ever backs down. I came up with this plausible story.
After we got thrown out of a pub we didn’t know what to do so we decided to have our own fight club. I was too drunk to be of any barbaric good so I stepped out and invited someone else to join in. After a good few bouts, Browny slipped in his drunken state and naked torso grazed on the ground. The police came and took him home because he was way to drunk and causing a public nuisance. Wendy was so upset at being woken up by the police bringing her son that she concocted this almost believable story to scare him out of his bad boy ways. And she soaked all his belongings in some rotten water for good measure (well that’s the only bit of the story I can’t find a plausible excuse for but Wendy’s story is full of holes as well).
We will never know the truth however as none of us know what happened. Snippets did trickle back in over the following days however. I do remember being thrown out of a bar and I had a black cross on my arm to prove it. Also one of Macca’s friends confirmed this. Apparently Browny ordered up a round of shots and I got through three before I threw up all over the bar and the floor. Browny apparently finished off the remaining shots as I was being thrown out. I sort of remember stumbling around the streets of Tauranga and catching a cab. However this time I did end up where I was supposed to be unlike my previous encounter with a night in “Toerags”.
Apparently I got home around 4am. Wendy claimed Macca arrived home at 3am. Macca vaguely remembers meeting up with a friend at another bar, but that’s it. Browny remembers nada.
The rest of the day was spent by all of us nursing serious hangovers while Wendy bitched on about us sorting lives out. This went straight through me like a plate of hot chilli and after a while we just started laughing at Wendy and making fun of her silly yarns. She went out a bit later that day to cool off and she said she expected none of us to be there when she got back. However when she got back Browny and I were slothed over a couch each and she was none too impressed. We eventually crawled out to Maccas place and spent New Years Eve watching DVD’s.
Wendy was so furious still that she was sending Browny home on New Years day. He had to catch the bus at 9.30am. I offered to drop him off on my way out of town but I think she was scared that I wouldn’t and we would end up on the piss somewhere. I ended up spending the next few days detoxing at my grandparents house before heading off for a stag weekend - Fear and loathing in Lake Taupo. Oh, and the Police never did show up to question the man that avoided death.
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sounds like after a night like that you myt take it easy on the old drink… only if your a pussy. drink till your blind thats our moto
err.. it did make us blind…
gotta love those nights in good old tauranga!
