The One Bicycle Thief

It was a Team Bauer 24-speed front suspension mountain bike with disc brakes, shimano gears, brand new tires and custom pedals. It clicked slightly when peddling uphill in 14^th gear and my dear friend Stu had even switched the brakes to the American style so I didn’t hurl myself over the handlebars (too often). Its unique paint job included gold painted-on zippers and the seat liked to randomly swivel to the right. My helmet matched my teal and black gloves which, oddly enough, matched a 2-inch stripe of teal on the front of the bike frame. I told myself all this matching wasn’t just mere coincidence, and that the bike was destined to be mine.

But none of this matters anymore, because my beloved bike has been maliciously stolen…

[[[Fade from black]]]

It was a dark and stormy night in windy Queenstown, the ominous weather a precursor of the misfortune that was to befall the unsuspecting victims as they furiously peddled their bikes through the throngs of tourist…

Okay, really it was a warm and fair-weathered evening with a beautiful sunset and hardly any tourist – Adam would never hack it at peddling anywhere close to a “furious” pace, so lets just say we were cruising. As we wheeled up to Starbucks we waved through the window at the crew inside who longingly looked at us as if they wished that they too could be off work and embarking on an evening out. Adam hopped off his bike, leaning it against his usual pillar, then motioned for me to bring my bike over to lock up. Once securely locking both bikes, we headed to Monty’s – one of our favorite pubs.

Several hours later, holding a large pizza, French fries, and several movies, Adam and I both agreed that an attempt to bike home in our condition would be suicide for the pizza. So we walked home – sneaking slices on the way. An evening of vampire movies ensued, and before long, Adam was snoring loudly (in a very Welsh way). I bid adieu to the unconscious Adam and went to sleep myself.

The next morning Adam, on his way to work, walked outside before abruptly returning. “Where did we put the bikes?” he asked. I told him that we had left them at work and saw a small light go on in his head as he finally remembered. About a half hour later I got a text that no bike owner ever wants to receive.

ARE YOU SURE WE LEFT OUR BIKES OUTSIDE STARBUCKS LAST NIGHT?

I pieced the prior evening together from start to finish before responding with a definite YES. I was half hoping that Adam was playing a joke on me, but when he called from the police station to get a description of my bike, my hope vanished. Sulking to work, I immediately noticed the bare pillar where my bike had once been only hours before. Adam hugged me as we mourned the loss of our mutually favorite possessions and we reassured each other that the bikes would turn up eventually.

But boy am I looking forward to tackling the $%*# out of the poor guy who stole my bike when I find him! And I will find him…

-Ashley

Fun Fact: Ben Harper (singer extraordinaire) came into my work today and ordered a latte. Even famous people need coffee!

The One Where I Jump Off a Bridge

The wind was howling as Patrick and I crouched behind a tool box listening to people screaming as they fell. “Are you scared?” Patrick asked me. I thought about how cold I was and replied, “Nope.”. Truth is – I was a tiny itsy bitsy bit worried. But damned if I was going to let anyone see that I wasn't %100 ready to jump off a bridge suspended over hundreds of feet of canyon rock and water.

The group of jumpers dwindled until it was finally our turn to strap in. A nice guy named Jace made small chat as he wrapped towels around our legs and secured ropes to our bodies. I was thoroughly impressed that for close to $200, clients were fastened into navy blue towels before willingly jumping at heights that could kill – how technologically advanced! Patrick looked like he might throw up at any moment and I was increasingly becoming aware that I was minutes away from launching myself from a bridge into icy cold rushing water.

My cool demeanor quickly eroded as the bungy guy kept asking me to shuffle closer and closer to the edge of the platform. Patrick, already standing at the ledge and hanging onto a side rail for dear life, had become mute in his fear. Faint memories of waving at camera’s come to mind before the dreaded countdown began. (I was stupid enough to look down, which sent my heart racing and suddenly this whole idea sounded insane…how could I have ever thought this would be fun?! )Whether Jace started at 3 or 5 I have no idea, because suddenly I remember thinking Oh BLEEP! Patrick is jumping!!! And I half-jumped, half-fell screaming along with him.

The two seconds it took us to hit the water were beyond exhilarating. Patrick, in a panic, wrapped his arms around me and we began spinning mid-air before slamming into the icy water. Suddenly the rushing wind stopped and I couldn’t hear anything for a split second, then we were bouncing upward, soaking wet, laughing and whooping hysterically. Patrick turned to me and said “We did it! Give me a kiss!”, and so I obliged with a big kiss for my little gay friend.

I think we laughed for a good 3 minutes straight before the boat guy was able to rope us in and lower us down for unharnessing. A few high fives were in order before we, in our newly created adrenaline rush, ran up to see our video and pictures. As soon as a figure out how, they will be up for all to see!

Jumping from the world’s first bungy jump? CHECK!

-Ashley

Fun fact: The oldest person to bungy at the Kawarau Bridge Bungy is 94. The youngest? Last week a young man, strapped securely to his parents, celebrated his first birthday by jumping off the same bridge!

The One With The Car Manual…In Japanese

Tonight was one of those once in a blue moon nights where the strangest things happen.

It all began toward closing time when a very Irish woman with a very colorful vocabulary ordered a latte then asked, “Do I look like someone who has AIDS?”. Really though?! Who asks that??? And not only did she ask a perfect stranger a very awkward question, but she said it as casually as someone would ask if we could add extra shots of espresso to drinks.

Three hours later I found myself with my two mates Meghan (a Canadian) and Patrick (my hilariously gay Kiwi friend) outside of Ferburger –a world famous burger joint that caters to all the drunken tourists until the wee hours of the morning. Only tonight, there weren’t actually any burgers to be had. What kind of burger joint (and a supposed world famous one at that) doesn’t have their main entrée? I settled for a bag of french-fries, then proceeded to help the poor girl working the front counter yell out order numbers to the drunken lot stumbling around shouting incoherent things at one another. For my troubles she rewarded me with a tiny cup of ketchup – enough for about six fries, which had I paid for, would’ve cost me 50 CENTS (an entire bottle of ketchup costs $1.40 here)!

After our non-burger Ferburgers, I had the brilliant idea of putting transmission fluid into my car (keep in mind it is close to midnight at this point). The three of us debated which container to pour the fluid into for about twenty minutes, and then tried enlisting the help of four or five very unhelpful young men before finally consulting the car manual. “Does anyone speak Japanese?” I asked while flipping through the booklet written in several languages – all of them beyond my comprehension. Patrick, ever politically correct said, “I think someone at Ferburger speaks Asian.” I didn’t bother embarrassing myself enough to ask if someone spoke “Asian” inside the beefless burger bar.

Finally, I lucked out enough to have two extremely helpful taxi drivers come and save the day! I was astonished by how amazingly sincere and obliging the two were. Within a few minutes my transmission was raring to go and the Taxi man had run back to his car to give me wet wipes to clean up my hands. What a gentleman! Just another example of why I love Kiwi’s!

After getting to Meghan’s house well past midnight the three of us agreed to have a sleepover. As I began emptying things from my pockets, I noticed something in the extra cargo pocket. Throwing a confused look at Meghan I pulled out what turned out to be a car key. Who’s car key I have no idea, and I’m even more clueless as to how it got into my shorts pocket. Too tired to do anything but laugh about it, I proclaimed we would turn the case into Unsolved Mysteries and wait out the owner.

-Ashley

FUN FACT: Flight of the Concords – a New Zealand produced comedy, is the best show created since Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Check it out and be prepared to laugh! "You're so beautiful, you could be a part-time model!"

The One On A Mission

When my native Kiwi friends Alli and Nikki asked me to join them on a mission, I envisioned an afternoon spent on some stealth, yet high-risk and fun assignment. What I had in mind was far from the Kiwi meaning of “mission”. Apparently crawling on hands and knees up cliffs of rocks and through thorny underbrush while following tiny goat tracks for hours is what the girls meant by a “mission” (AKA a lengthy and challenging adventure).

Cut-up, sunburned, bruised, thirsty, and slightly bleeding I reached the summit of some unnamed peak with Alli and Nikki at my side…resting next to a mineral colored pond, we took in the incredible view, which was more gratifying considering the insane three hours we had spent scrambling up cliff sides and literally following goats to get there. In fact, I have a much deeper appreciation for the athletic abilities of goats now that I’ve walked (or staggered) in their footsteps.

We headed “just over the next hill” about six times while following the directions of Nikki who – as a professional snowboard instructor and mountaineering guide, seemed trust-worthy. Finally (just as Alli whispered to me “how many times are we going over one more hill before we’re lost?”) we spotted our destination on the horizon – a rarely used mountain shack built alongside running spring water!

A few minutes later and we were strategizing where to find the best drinking water. I followed Nikki’s example and took my turn scooping handfuls of water into my parched mouth. After the third thirst-quenching scoop I began examining the water beneath me. A funny shaped stick caught me attention, and upon further inspection I realized it wasn’t a stick, but an animal bone with a hoof attached!

Thinking to myself “that’s gross…where is the rest of it?” I made the mistake of looking upstream. About two feet above Nikki’s so carefully selected watering hole, submerged halfway in the water, was a partially decomposed GOAT CARCASS! Like a sissy little girl I squealed “EWWWWW!!!” and then spit a few times (as if it would do anything to help the fact that I had just drank carcass water)!

After berating my less-than-perceptive guide for leading me straight to carcass water, we all enjoyed a good laugh and then headed back toward civilization on a winding dirt road. Exhausted but feeling accomplished, we reached Alli’s house just in time to find her roommate, and my favorite Starbucks co-worker, Tommy enjoying a full two hours of action packed live performances from none other than the wonderfully talented Celine Dion! What a way to end the day…

-Ashley

Fun fact: Due to ozone depletion, the intensity of the sun in New Zealand can burn someone in as little as 8 minutes –believe me, I’ve accidentally tested this theory!