Just got a call from the Alligator, who has landed in Auckland and is due in Welly in a couple weeks.
He tipped me off to this account of his farewell party, written up for Seattle’s indie scene zine The Stranger. Excerpt:
Someone shotguns a High Gravity malt beverage and shouts, “Get rich or die fuckin’ tryin’!” Someone else shotguns and shouts, “Locked and loaded!” All out of catch phrases, our host does a traditional Maori war dance on top of the fridge. I get more fucked up than I’ve been in years and the party is a raging success.
That’s how they roll in Seattle, baby.
In Seattle they party like it’s the Hutt?
Crasy.
I want all to know:
I was super wasted. The actions on the fridge were an unrealistic representation of the haka. If a Kiwi had been there, they’d probably have been insulted….
Blame it on my Serbian friend Dragan.
I’d say most kiwis don’t know how to do a haka competently anyway, so I wouldn’t worry about it.
Dude, you’re fucked.