My Life as a Couch: Traveling to Heaven

A few years back, when I was in University, two of my friends and I went to New Zealand and Australia for six months. Okay, maybe it was more than a few years ago, but I know we went for a good reason. I know the University thought it was a good reason as well because they said so in a letter after my second semester.

Anyway, we had been in New Zealand for about four days and had made our way up to the northern tip of the North Island, to a small place call Paihia (pie-HEE-ah). It's located in the Bay of Islands, one of the most spectacular places in the world. Being fresh off the boat - literally - we were eager to see the sights, have some adventures and spend some money.

So the first thing we did was find the local pub. It was around the other corner of the Bay and not too busy when we arrived about 8:00 pm. Being poor students, we figured we'd hang out a bit and see what the locals have to say about where to go and how to get there. Hopefully, they would be polite about it.

I lost the toss and had to buy the first round of beer for our table. Now, at the University, beer was about seven bucks a jug for the cheapest draft you could buy. So I worked my way to the bartender and asked for a jug and three glasses while pulling out a couple of NZ five dollar bills.

The bartender puts the jug in front of me with the glasses and says, in a very New Zealand accent "That'll be one sevenny five."

The room was well lit, the noise wasn't too bad but I still didn't think I heard him correctly.

"Pardon me?" I asked, leaning over the bar to make sure I heard every word. Didn’t want anything lost in translation.

"One dolla, sevenny-five cents."

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I blinked twice and said, "Two more, please" before he could change his mind. With the three jugs in my hand, I walked back to the table, put them down, handed my friends their glasses and said, "These jugs are one dollar and seventy-five cents each. These are mine - go get your own!"

We were the most popular new guys in the pub for the rest of the night. By the end of the evening, all the tables had been pushed together around us and we had about fifteen or twenty-six new friends forever. Or at least til closing.

At the time, for many people visiting New Zealand, it seemed like a country about ten to fifteen years behind the rest of the world. Lots of sheep, lots of countryside and a slower pace than most everywhere. The price of beer alone just reinforced that!

But I think New Zealanders are brilliant people. They've looked at the rest of the world and solved problems the rest of us didn't even know were problems! Here's the best example I can remember.

You know that here in Canada we have big trucks with stainless steel tankers that go around and collect the milk from dairies. Gleaming silver, always clean and you just knew the contents were good for you.

Well, in New Zealand (or heaven, if you prefer), the same kind of tankers are everywhere as well. The only difference is that in New Zealand, the tankers are full of draft beer.

I'm not kidding. We saw one pull up behind the pub the next day. The driver got out and hooked up a big hose to the side of the tanker and then to a port on the side of the building. We walked up and asked him what was going on and he explained everything.

Those Kiwis - absolute genius. I may just retire there…