Do you ever remember at school when the freaky kid, who was even more unpopular than yourself, showed up with a brand new radio controlled monster truck? All of a sudden the kid was an A-lister, you couldn’t even get a seat next to him, let alone play your usual lunchtime chess game. Well tonight, New Brighton was that kid.
We had fireworks, big fireworks. And they exploded off the pier and into the sea. And everyone, even well-to-do folk from Parklands, was down there fighting for a park. For tonight, New Brighton was biting its thumb at all the other ‘burbs. But only for tonight.
Now in case you didn’t make it down there or maybe you did, but you had to park so far away that you didn’t make it to the pier in time, I’ll try to give you a little precis of what happened.
Some bright sparkly things went bang and fizz for about ten minutes. Some oohs and ahhs. Big stargazers curtain to end it all. Some polite golf clapping (that the nice people at Treetech hopefully heard on some level). And that was it. The end. If you don’t believe me I’ve got the footage to prove it. And a blurry photo as well.
To be fair I did miss the first two minutes as I had trouble getting home, then I had to find somewhere to park my bike, while trying to avoid screaming girls running across the road. I tell ya, it was danger bay out there tonight. You’re probably better off having stayed at home or watched it from the sky or Sumner if you couldn’t afford a chartered flight or boat even. Particularly the nightmarish exit from New Brighton. There were the usual queues of traffic backed all the way up from Bridge Street to central New Brighton, making slower progress than the long-haired Dachshund I was trying to return to its owner.
Oh yeh that’s the other story of the night. Biking home from the beach I just about ran over a large, hairy black slug, I mean Dachshund, dashing across the road. Knowing that a lot of cars trying to get out of Brighton coupled with all the after party fireworks going off was not a good combination for a old dog with unusually short legs. So I took it upon myself to be his brand new guardian – whether he liked it or not. There was no way that dog was getting run over. Not on my shift anyway.
Not having any idea what house it was from or where its owners were I walked it back to our place. Introduced him to Crystal (who immediately had plans to adopt him on account of his super cute short legs – I understand why she married me now) got the lead and decided to knock on a few doors to find his home. Now I don’t believe 9.45pm is too late but I was having trouble rousing anyone. I finally found someone and yay it was the next door neighbour’s of Toby’s owners. Happy ending.
In other news, I have had way too many late nights this week. So many in fact that my mum has officially grounded me. Of course, she doesn’t realise that isn’t much of a punishment anymore but I’ll pretend it is.