New Zealand welcomed me with open arms… those of Immigration!
Why does this keep happening to me? I must look like a right criminal, or maybe the immigration officer fancied me and wanted to get to know me better… I wished. Just like winning an unwanted prize, I was stopped and endured the routine investigation process. Mind you, she was quite attractive and this time I didn’t mind sparing a few minutes to answer her questions. I wondered how old she was and if she had a boyfriend, maybe I would bump into her again in a club, bet she looks great all tarted up, shaking her booty on the dance floor :-) As I carried on daydreaming I suddenly noticed that she was going through everything in my bag… oh no! Please don’t pull out the pants and socks I have neatly tucked into my shoe, whoops! ‘Yes officer, those are mine’ following a cheesy grin. That was slightly embarrassing! For some reason I always put a spare pair of pants and socks in my second pair of shoes, just in case my luggage is lost.
Anyway, I didn’t have to try them on to prove they were mine, and once I cleared immigration I was let loose on New Zealand soil, like a wild animal, free to roam, explore and have a great time!
I booked into the YHA International as a safe bet, but I wasn’t overly impressed. They didn’t have any cheap beds, though I had booked one in advance, and my room didn’t have any lockable cupboards, just pay lockers downstairs. It was 8ish and the dorm was empty. I could tell there were no girls in the room because it lacked of that 'female touch'; in other words it looked like a crime scene and it stunk of feet and b.o, and not just mine! I had a shower and crashed on the bed, tired from the flight, then I thought ‘hang on, it’s Saturday night for goodness sakes, let’s go out for a quiet drink’. So I put on my best shirt, well the only shirt I have, and hit the neon-lit streets of
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