Along the Merry Way....

The bus broke down in the rainy countryside 1/2 hour from Whangarei. The other bus that was supposed to pick us up was blocked by an accident. The people got angry and hungry on the bus. It was pitch black because the bus driver wanted to conserve gas. We were all trapped there. Then a man called his daughter on the bus's speaker phone, so we (and his daughter) could hear everything. "Are you hungry dad? Do you want me to leave you some food?" "YES!" yelled everyone on the bus. Another girl and I ran outside and up a neighboring hill, and we had to race back as vehicles finally got going again. We leapt onto the bus in the nick of time. It was a horrendous collision that had blocked traffic on the treacherously steep roads. The cars looked like little crumpled up balls of paper.

Theresa and I and some other New Zealanders danced that night in the racecourse to the wild Irish music of Scythian. The police watched (helpless but chuckling somewhat) as hundreds of excited young people jumped the race-course barriers to get closer to the music. Whirling shadows in the chaos of lights. Everyone slept in a field of jumbled bodies, wrapped in silver heat sheets to protect against the freezing cold. The massive fields of sleeping lumps were merely marked by each country's flags.