It was a Thursday evening and Danger, SB and myself were sitting in Auckland airport’s domestic terminal, glass of wine in hand, waiting to board our flight to Christchurch. The three of us would be joining our friend Jagger before embarking on what can only be described as the classic girl’s weekend: a road trip to Queenstown. Armed with a Red Bull energy drink, a pack of sour cream and chive flavoured Grain Waves and a zip bag of lollies reminiscent of your local dairy’s five cent selection back in 2003, I was ready for the arduous one and a half hour journey ahead. I read the trashy magazine that I had picked up earlier, along with the aforementioned high-nutrient snacks, from cover to cover (reading recycled, decade-old gossip about Brangelina’s taboo romance is still as riveting as ever) to pass the time, and before I knew it, we had touched down in Crusader territory.
Our chariot came in the form of Jagger’s signature red Suzuki Swift. Known for its generous leg room and head space, the Swift was to be our mode of transportation for the next few days. After spending the night at Jagger’s flat, we woke up early to enjoy a cup of tea (courtesy of her full-time flatmate and apparently part-time butler, Logan) before we hit the road. A quick Maccas run for coffees, hash browns and McMuffins en route would sustain our energy levels for the long drive ahead - or so we thought. Two hours in, the pangs of hunger kicked in once again, so we made an executive decision to stop off at Fairlie, home to some of the most legendary pies that this country has to offer. I ordered and sunk my teeth into a pork belly and apple sauce pie which came in a brown paper bag, drenched in grease (an absolute sight for sore eyes). After brushing the excess pastry flakes away from our mouths and off our laps, we piled back into the Swift and began making our way to our next destination. It wasn’t much longer before we were parked up by the stunning Lake Tekapo which provided an excellent backdrop for some Insta-worthy and totally candid photos. We could’ve easily wiled away the afternoon there, basking in the sun and admiring the azure blue water and the pink and purple wildflowers that surrounded us. Our little piggies enjoyed a brief dip in the crisp shallows before it was time to move on. The hours in the car passed as we listened to classics by the likes of Fleetwood Mac, Cat Stevens and Miley Cyrus (the lyrics to “Party in the U.S.A” are fucking timeless). By mid-afternoon, the snow-dusted tops of the The Remarkables were in sight and we were finally in Queenstown. After checking into our accommodation, we decided to wander into the town centre. Dinner was just around the corner, and coincidentally, so was the infamous Ferg Burger. Even though my name on the docket was spelt “Balinda” (do I look like a sheep to you), all was forgiven after I took my first bite. We dined al fresco, picnic-style by Lake Wakatipu, all while drinking the finest Moscato that Jacob’s Creek could offer out of plastic vessels. It may have been daylight savings, but night was falling and that could only mean that it was time to put on our dancing shoes and take Queenstown by storm. We stumbled across a rooftop bar (otherwise known to non-NZ residents as a quaint, uncovered terrace) that seemed to be drawing the crowds (again, otherwise known to non-NZ residents as between 30-50 people). A serious lack of seating forced us to act like vultures, scouring the scene for any sign of movement in the hopes of bagging a perch. Sipping on the best glass of bubbles that $13 could afford, we spotted 4 men hovering around a table that looked like our final nesting spot. A quick introduction revealed that they were pilots from Australia (allegedly), no doubt on the lookout for some shelias to watch the sunset with. Unfortunately for them, we only had our eyes on the prize (the prize being their table and four seats). The only question that remained was how. So, for one night, and one night only, Danger, SB, Jagger and myself became the charming yet elusive Laura, Angela, Katherine and Abby. A seemingly foolproof idea, our fake names were complemented by elaborate backstories, with Angela’s famous jockey boyfriend, Michael Clearwater, taking the cake. Terrible liars at the best of times, the jig was soon up as we reverted to using our real names (this may or may not have also had something to do with the amount of alcohol that was racing through our bloodstreams at that exact moment in time). In typical Aussie fashion, the lads took it on the chin, had a laugh at our expense (or theirs?), and graciously relinquished their seats. We celebrated the success of parking our rear ends with more $13 bubbles and having my unshaven legs caressed by a stripper named Candy. Soon enough, our insatiable appetites came back to haunt us, so we decided to pick up some Domino’s pizza to see us through the 10 minute walk home and call it a night. We were all feeling a little bit seedy the following morning, but with a full day of activities planned, there was no time to waste. A delightful brunch was proceeded by a hike up Queenstown Hill. Even as the most athletically-challenged member of our group, I was keen to flail my gangly limbs about and get the old heart rate pumping. The first twenty minutes or so were relatively uneventful as I maintained a steady pace, taking in the views around me. But even with my long stride, the others powered ahead, and eventually, I lost sight of them completely. “No matter,” I thought to myself, “I’ll see them when I get to the end (three days from now).” All of a sudden, my hangover began to rear its ugly head. My insides churned and I reached for my phone to text the girls what could’ve been my final goodbye. After sitting on a tree stump for a few moments, having contemplated death, I collected myself (controlled my bodily functions) and completed the trek to the top. I may have lost a little bit of my dignity along the way, but it was absolutely worth it. Thankfully the walk down was more pleasant than the walk up. A quick spritz of deodorant and a change of clothing later, we headed over to Skyline where the gondola and luge awaited us. While Danger and I cruised down at our usual, non-competitive pace, SB and Jagger hooned their way around the track in classic Sarah versus Sarah fashion. This made for some hilarious action shots, with Jagger nearly flying out of her cart after going over a bump at approximately 100kmph. Feeling sufficiently sticky in nearly 30 degree heat, we opted to treat ourselves to overpriced bottles of water and ice cream before getting back on the gondola to discuss the probability of gondola-related fatalities. The rest of our afternoon was spent lakeside with more booze and a makeshift platter of cheese, crackers and dips. Unfortunately we were sans knife, but we were able to make use of our AA membership cards (that we had initially brought with us on the trip in case we needed automobile assistance) as an alternative. The set up was less idyllic than that of the previous night’s burger feast, largely due to the lack of sunlight and one pesky duck that kept trying to steal our chips (and you know how I feel about my chips being stolen - not good). Despite this, we managed to squeeze in a cheeky nap under a canopy of trees before it was time to get ready for dinner. A delicious Vietnamese meal was received well by our ever-hungry tummies later that evening. Danger and I also enjoyed a dessert at another local bar shortly after (what can I say, we like to eat). Too much partying and lying about our identities the night before had proved to be too much for this group of friends, so we retired to our accommodation early to end our trip the way it started - with a cup of tea. Brunch the next morning was bittersweet as it meant we’d be saying sayonara to Jagger (and the Swift) once again, at least until our next adventure. After a round of bear hugs, I sat at the Queenstown airport with Danger and SB waiting to board the plane, and thought: “Shit, I’m lucky to call these misfits my friends.”
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B is:A 26-year-old tea drinking writer of words trying to find her place in the world.
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