So the deal is...

This weekend we had planned for an unplanned adventure. The idea was to pack one bag between us with some survival necessities and take the Friday evening train to anywhere south of here and stay till Sunday evening. We packed a bag and headed out. There are two train stations. One, 3 blocks west of us. One, 2 blocks east. I always thought the one east of us was the real deal. The one that connected us to the rest of New Zealand. Paul maintained that the one west of us, Britomart, was the new deal and the other deal was history. We headed to Britomart. We now both think the other deal is the main deal. We also now think that we'll have to wait till after tourist season to go anywhere since it currently costs two kidneys (my left, his right) for two people to go anywhere but here. We retreated to our humble abode and reconsidered our plan for the weekend. It seems every other weekend is some sailing/boating/yachting celebration so we took a walk to the Viaduct Harbor to witness the festivities. Its no surprise Auckland is nicknamed the City of Sails, home to the largest harbor in the southern hemisphere where over 2,000 boats are currently docked. (Enough with the trivia facts.) We stood there and watched some boats go by. There were tents in one of the parking lots hosting refuge to some 20 dragon boat teams that had just finished competing and were now celebrating. We meandered through them unnoticed. There was a sudden stir and teams ran to the fence with cameras. We looked up. Paul started chuckling. Me, being slow on the uptake took a bit longer to figure out what was so hilarious. A small sailboat was motoring behind a rent-a-cruise ferry. Tied to the mast by his shirt, was apparently the loser of some bet or race. He was thread less except for his shirt behind him and his shorts down around his ankles. His buddies were laughing. One even stood at the front snapping photos to capture this breezy moment. We made mental notes (not mental pictures) to never enter a competition with any friends we made down here who owned or rented sailboats. We could end up on the mast in the buff in front of hundreds of spectators. And that would be the raw deal. (sorry...no x-rated picture)