The Dangers of Partying with 70 Year Olds in New Zealand

There is Ibiza. There is Phi Phi. There is Reyjkavik and Prague and Porta Banus. These party capitals of the world where adolescents, and pre-nuptial, and pre-natal "me" generationers think they are "it" and that they have "arrived", partying and clubbing and raving until another time zone has been achieved. But The Nav - having lived and loved and survived close to 5 decades, 4 continents, a myriad of countries, and a melange of night spots will die knowing just one thing. You haven't truelly lived unless you've partied with a big band of superannuant 70 year olds !

This statement is probably met by a look of consternation, confusion, and cynicism,

but recently The Nav attended 'The Party to End All Parties' in "Godzone Country", and he shares the shenanigans by seniors with you now

(The Nav's Ed Note : Godzone Country is short for God's Own Country, or if you are a New Zealander we know it as New Zealand)

In Hong Kong a large manila envelope arrived on The Nav's desk at work. Opening it he realized it was an invitation to his Mum's 70th birthday party in Auckland New Zealand. Looking at his diary he realized that he had the whole week-end free. Looking at the Cathay Pacific web-site he realized he could get air miles seats. Looking at life he still thought no, 11,000 miles in 3 days to have a quick knees up with some sozzled superannuants!? What a crazy thought! Totally irresponsible! And then his Mum phoned

"Hello darling. How are you? Did you get my birthday party invite? Did you like the Africa / New Zealand theme ? My one connection with Kenya in my childhood I'm afraid. I know you can't make it but your father and I just wanted to make sure all our children were invited. Your father's organized caterers, there are over 50 of our friends coming, and we've rented a juke-box!"

Now The Nav's had alot of invites to soirees in his time, some good, some bad, and some he can't remember - but that last statement was the clincher! A jukebox, in our family garden, the vision of over 50 superannuants dressed up like Travolta and Newton-John doing "The Chicken Walk" and "The Fever".

A knock at the front door, the local constabulary entering and asking that the music be turned down as there have been complaints from local teenagers saying they have to work in the morning and can we knock off all the racket

A cabal of male, whisky-fuelled, testosterone tanked retired professionals and company executives and entrepreneurs heckling the police with "Bugger off!", and "Bunch of blouses!" and "Bloody party poopers!" While the women upstairs, ready to riot, busily trying to figure out how to make Molotov Cocktails using the remaining vodka sea-breeze. This The Nav just had too see. He had to be there! Another mission beckoned

And so unbeknownst to his folks The Nav snuck down to Auckland via the jet stream. Arriving in this largest Polynesian city on Earth on a Saturday afternoon, on one of those glorious sunny warm and balmy Spring days when the main odour around town is freshly mowed lawn, The Nav climbed into a local taxi and was driven to his familial home. Bags in hand and kitted out in a big red birthday bow he knocked on the front door and was greeted by his beaming mother. "Happy birthday Mum." "Oh Freddy, you came."

(The Nav's Ed Note : The Nav and his siblings were named Charlie, Fred, George, and Paddy during our Mum's pregnancies before each of our births as a point of reference and before we had formal names and birth certificates. 'Fred', or on occasion ‘Freddy’, was the only name that stuck - which probably explains a lot of things about The Nav)

That Saturday afternoon was spent in the garden chatting and catching up over more than one beer and more than one wine. The jukebox was delivered and set-up, test run, and it had our small party partying a day early. And then at about 8pm The Nav passed out

And what about that jukebox? A stunning piece of hi-tech musicory more a self-contained purveyor of sound to people on 'e' and 'p' and 'ecstacy' than a temple to Bill Haley or Cliff Richards. Powered by Microsoft software, with thousands of favourite tunes sorted under such headings as 'Acid Jazz', 'House', 'Dance', and 'Euro', The Nav knew that this would be a rave to remember - his Mum and Dad pointing out the outside patio area where the "Line Dancing" would take place while The Nav reflected on how you line dance to 'House' music and 'Acid Jazz'

The following morning was breakfast and setting up and more sleep while recovering from jet lag. His Mum opening her family birthday gifts with many birthday cards, The Nav's favourite being -

"To hell with growing old gracefully. Let's have facelifts until our earlobes meet!"

Sunday was a day of setting up.

The bar, the garden, the food, the loos, and That Jukebox. And then at 4pm the superannuant “rolling thunder” began with herds of partyers descending on the garden and things were off. Dozens of bottles of champagnoise bubbly and sauvignon blanc and chardonnay and ‘Steinlager’ and ‘Stella Artoise’ warmed up the cockles of these many hearts. Two massive salmon had been smoked by The Nav’s Dad and these were scoffed in short order. Some singing, that line dancing, and a lot of loud banter ensued. But by 8pm it was over, the many guests swaying to their cars ready to run the gauntlet of Auckland's notorious traffic police

And afterwards a few hours tidying up, with The Nav's Dad dressed as from China's Boxer Rebellion in the 1850's, busily dropping empty bottles around the neighbourhood’s neighbours’ bottle bins, as our homes 44 gallon bin was full to the gunwales!

Then a quiet Monday morning, ham and eggs and tea. A lift to the airport. Tearful good-byes but with a reminder we would see each other again in six weeks for our extended families Christmas New Year reunion - soon to be reported on by The Nav as "A Swinging time in Singapore, and how to break the law but still avoid Changi Prison". Onto the Cathay Pacific 747 and then the long trek back to Hong Kong via that jet stream

So why did The Nav do it, this once in a life-time moment of travelling insanity? Several reasons really. He's not a Buddhist so he believes we only live once. He needs to fight for the honour of being the 'favourite child' so he can eventually get his hands on his parents stunning rosewood dining table from China. He lives for the term 'Carpe Deum', or 'Seize the Day'. But most importantly most of us only have one Mum in our lives, and The Nav loves his Mum deeply and with abandon

And if you our valued reader still don't agree that superannuant parties rock? Try it! They'll kill you - or they'll die trying!

Somehow safely back in Hong Kong wrapped up, chained-up, and signing out from his padded cell suffering from the combined affects of altitude, alcohol, jet-lag, lack of sleep, and too much of the cha cha and tango. The Nav's sais sayonara to his new 70 year old sweet hearts