So I guess a couple of years ago some wise kiwi came up with the idea that teams should find a car for under 500 dollars and fix them up so that they could drive from Christchurch (north end of the south island) to Dunedin (south end of south island). In theory this sounds like a wholesome educational experience. Experience tells us other wise.
Somewhere in this process the cars became painted with various lewd schemes (Kentucky fried Dog, Mountain Jew were some of the highlight from the weekend) and filled with costumed kiwis.
All still pretty reasonably and rational.
So at this point the cars arrive in Dunedin where they are greeted by the now excited Scarfies (uni students) and they naturally want to celebrate.
This is where everything really starts to tailspin.
fast forward to about ten on friday night the legendary Castle Street is now teeming with tipsy Scarfies who are getting all antsy in their pantsies. All this excitement somehow gets channeled into the need to burn couches and every piece of random debris in the area. So the next logical player in curious little scenario is police officer Pete. Now Pete and about 50 of his co workers hope of out of a van in full riot gear co
mplete with shields and billy clubs. They quickly busy themselves setting up shop at the north end of Castle St., this consists of a human line waving shields and clubs shouting unrealistic orders at the frenzied crowd.
This goes on for a while until the police start to get fed up with the bottles being hurled at them. At this point the line starts charging the chanting masses of Scarfies on the piss. The Scarfies concede ten feet at a time and this dance goes on until the crowd has been pushed all the way down the quarter mile long street. I personally got bored of this tango after about half an hour once I was fairly sure there would be n
othing more exciting happening.
The term riot is not an accurate description for the mood in the air. There was no general goal. No one had been wronged. They simply wanted to rage in the most destructive manor possible, a tell tale sign of intoxication. I stood for a while pondering the motivations for this event for awhile as I walked thru the crowds of chanting drunks I was struck by the sen
se of lack of individual identity. Everyone wanted a break from being Tom or Polly and wanted to be a part of something bigger than them, a collective group identity. Its interesting to think about what role alcohol played in this equation, people seemed to need the social lubricant to help them join the debauchery.
Im still musing over what might be a proper term for the event perhaps "scarfiesonthepissliketoburnrubbishanddefyauthoritycollectiveitis" Ill have to check with the American Psychological Association when I get home.
Here is a clip from the Otago Daily Times
I defiantly remember seeing the police storm the one house in the video.
I talked with several police officers and found them all to be in good spirits. Most were just waiting for the shift to end. The all seem to understand the event to be inevitable and stupid. I fairly agree. It has become a tradition all the kiwis know about it and I suspect would still find an excuse to burn couches even with out the Undie 500.
More interesting news.
Nick Lee and I now have kiwi mullet hair cuts.
We have received zero strange looks which really explains how strange the hair cuts here are.
Small picture yes but what can you do?
Probably reformat but if you
r interested skype me or creep facebook. If you dont know me then I am beginning to get creeped out by the internet again.
Hopefully my internet insecurities wont cripple my computer usage because I have heaps of work to do this week.
Awesome.
I also surfed the last 3 days which has been uber.
This is a picture of horses and the ocean but you already knew that. Far right is Simmsberg who turned out to be a true bully.
Alright
Big gulps huh? Nice
Well see you later
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