Anger Burger

“Give me a flagon of your finest ale, and I want it served by a Hobbit!”

And that, folks, is why I wanted Mike to come along this trip with me.  The instigator was a rather bitchy bitch of a barista who disgustedly snapped at me that they didn’t accept credit cards and moreover that “hardly anyone” in NZ accepted credit cards and that I had “better start carrying cash.”  This is, of course, patently bullshit.

The best part was that my friend Marika, also an American by birth but as of late a resident Kiwi, had just moments before used her card to pay for her coffee.  And further better yet, I was staring directly at the credit card reader which was modern and, apparently, functional.

Not wanting to start any trouble, I glared at her, paid with cash and went to sit down with Marika and Mike, with whom I discussed that various possibilities of her cuntiness.  Did she hate all Americans, or just us?  To help her prejudices along Mike loudly made the above statement in his best Ugly American accent.

You should know that the experience was entirely uncommon and because of this, sort of hilarious for us.  Kiwis are by nature friendly and accommodating, and the entirety of our two days had so far been grand in every way.  In fact, it had been a whirlwind of incredible food and mesmerizing countryside, despite being the worst weather in months (it was near-freezing and pissing rain when we arrived, which as of this writing has become painfully sunny) and despite a less-than-stellar plane trip (the AC stopped working on the plane, which then heated up to about 90° leading me to wonder if we were flying into the sun, because shouldn’t the plane’s natural state at that altitude be freezing?).

Immediately after arriving Marika fairly demanded I order a plate of corn fritters with egg and Hollandaise from Ruby’s Cafe in Mana.  It was without question what made me begin to feel human again, even though I’d have foggy travel-brain for another two days yet.

Later yet, a return to my beloved meatpie.  Meatpies will have to be their own story, but know this now: my mindless food of choice is without question a meatpie.  Whereas some eat happily hamburgers when left to their own devices, meatpies are my drug.  But, as I am already about two days behind reporting on our trip, we’ll let it go at that for now.