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Top 5 Posts of 2008
Ah 2008.
Also, the world economy took a hit, and soon we’ll be all feeling the familiar pinch of tight pockets and careful budgeting.An Anatomy of a Scene: Boozing at Home Part 2
Part 2 of An Anatomy of A Scene: Part 1
Beer is a complex thing.
The first sip is ok, depending on whether the beer is brain freeze cold (which is great) or room temperature warm (which isn’t so great). A few more sips and the taste starts to make itself at home with your taste buds. Three rounds later and you just can’t seem to wipe that silly smile off your face. By the fifth jug, you know for sure that whatever question gets passed your way, it can be answered with either a “YES!”, a “FIRE!” or a “FUCK YOU CAITA!”.
Throw in several like-minded individuals, the comfort of your mate’s house, and a very loud radio, and you’ve got the makings of an evening that cannot be predicted by even the most hardcore Grant’s Waterhouse regular.
When we left our buddies, they were still decided whether to hit the clubs while they still felt invulnerable, or stay back and continue ‘that good thing’. Decisions, decisions…
11:02pm: This is where everyone checks to see what the general mood of the session is…drunk enough to laugh the loudest? Or still sober enough to demand a few more rounds? Usually by this time the beer would have kicked in, and a curious itch to dance to anything played over the speakers will start to set in. Women are the first to get the ball rolling.
“Mai boys we go O’Reillys! Everyone we go mada and dance!”
“Fire, you girls go, us gang will just sit here mada and finish this box, then we’ll meet you gang out…”
11:35pm: The last round of beer has just been passed around for the guys who opted to stay back. A general consensus is reached.
“Vacava, more beer?”
“Fire. Put in mada…”
With money pooled, a quick trip to the local black market shop (or house, depending on where you get it from), and they’re back in business.
“Set. Spin the poison…”
11:50pm: With the music blaring loudly in the background, this is where the session takes another step up. The defining moment is when you can sing along with whatever song is played, and somehow, magically, you’re in tune with every syllable. And of course, everyone joins in, each to their own tune, a marvelous dis-harmony that sounds beautiful to the wasted, but encourages eyeball rolling from the neighbours.
“and SOOOOOOOOO SALLY CAN WAIT! SHE KNOWS ITS TOO LATE! CAUSE WE’RE OUT WALKING BY!!!”
12:11am: By now the beer has taken on a taste of its own, and somehow seems to be on par with water even. A necessary evil. If you’re the one doing the ‘taki’, and you’ve missed someone, prepare to get your ears severely trounced, if not by the victim, then by everyone else in the circle.
“Osobo you missed me bro!”
“Ah? Saaa kua ni lasu brotha, I’m sure I taki already to you – “
“Oi oi whats the matter you sa want to mamaqi the beer? Oooooh don’t be one boci magaichinamu and just taki mai this way eh?”
“Hey and these are my workmates – Elvin, Jope and Andrew.”
“Oooh bula bula mai mai come sit down. Qori, taki master! Totola mada and taki one quick one to the new gang.”
2:12am: Since the clubbers and their accompanying guests were already under the influence, it doesn’t take for everyone to relax with everyone else, and acquaintances are quickly made, thanks in part to the influx of alcohol.
It is also at this time that the Witching hour begins, as whoever’s been putting on the moves on the other sex now slide in for the kill, and with a few deft suggestions, disappear outside/bedroom/kitchen for awhile.
Knowing glances are exchanged, and a few laughs ensure, followed by a few cat calls.
“Hey hey make sure you don’t break the bed eh?”
“Be wise – dou vei cais!”
3:30am: This is officially the survival mode time. If someone is still awake and hasen’t yet:
a) passed out in the bedroom
b) passed out in the kitchen
c) vomited outside for the past 2 hours
d) left to screw someone
…then congratulations! He/she’s either a regular, an alcoholic, or unlucky 
Now shut up and take that serve of beer, there’s plenty more from where that came from…
4:23am: Ah, disagreements. Where would our drinking sessions be without them? Sure, no one likes to go through with it (at least for me…don’t know about the rest of you violent types), but there are some things in life that are about as certain as Fiji coups and losing to someone/anyone in the finals of the rugby 7s.
Basically it goes like this:
BOOZE + PEOPLE OTHER THEN YOU + HOURS = SCRAP
There are a near unlimited number of reasons as to why we fight, barring of course international terrorism and new Britney Spears court hearings. Girls, inflated egos, disagreements over whos rugby team will reach the finals, anything is fuel for a fight when you’re drunk.
In our case, ownership of the recently acquired beer brought in by the newcomers comes under scrutiny, and tempers flare. Violence is only a fist throw away…
“…you know that when you bring beer to the house it belongs to the house? uh? HUH?”
“Fuck you caita I bought that beer with my fucking money, so that fucking beer belongs to me magaichinana! I’m taking my beer out and leaving this shithole!”
“Don’t you fucking call my home that! Get the fuck out before I -”
“Before you what huh? Sona lev -”
Insert appropriate fight, and this is where everyone has several choices. Either join in, yell and try and stop it, or continue vomiting in the corner of the garden outside. Your choice.
5:55am: The last visitor is chased/kicked/dragged out of the premises. The last few bottles are finished off quickly as the sun rises to greet the party goers. It’s time to hit the sack and help your liver recover from the assault the night before. Of course, there will always be someone who just won’t go hit the sack, insisting that there’s a beer bottle still unopened somewhere in the fridge, and that the taki master wasn’t quite as on top of his game as he’d like the rest of us to believe.
“Caita Jim sarauta mada there’s no more beer!”
“Fuck man, I know for sure saraga for sure I saw one full one saraga sitting in the fridge somewhere here. Don’t worry about me man, just go sleep i’ll look around for it…”
7:30am: Of course you didn’t reach the bedroom, choosing instead to sleep on the lovely hard, wooden floor. It would have been a blissful morning sleep-in if it wasn’t for the fact that you are woken up by the sound…of porn.
There’s something to be said about being woken up in the morning by the sight and sound of some blond getting fucked on screen while some guy is drinking (guess there really was one last beer bottle) and watching at the same time with a straight poker face that could be watching The Simpsons.
From here on out, depending on what day you’re waking up in, it’s either more alcohol, more sleep, or a hap-hazard combination of both. Nothing is ever sure here in Fiji. Not even something as straight forward as drinking at home.
Your sore knuckles will attest to that.
An Anatomy of a Scene: Boozing At Home Part 1
Posted by Wilson in anatomy, booze, house party, lifestyle on July 15, 2007
image source: http://eecue.com Dave Bullock (eecue)You’re going to drink this weekend.
And the appropriate plans are made.
You and your friends pool resources to get the lovely box(s)of beer, badgered a buddy to give up his house (and possibly its last few moments of tranquility), arranged for some male/female companionship and hope they bring their friends, cooked some lovely chaser (food to ‘chase’ away the taste of the beer after the 50th round) in the form of spicy chicken curry, ensured that the glorified bottle opener a.k.a. the kitchen knife isn’t missing, chain the dog, brought out the mats, ensured that the neighbours are cool with the ensuring noise pollution, made a mental note of who can drink and can’t (but says they can), hidden the glass tea table, brought out the rags in case….you get the picture 
And then you get down to drinking.
But is it really that simple? Do people in Fiji really just get together and have a good time, and thats that?
As this blog has showed in the past, nothing is what it seems here in deepest darkest Fiji…
Venue: Your best mate/classmate/workmate/kai/cousin’s house.
Day: Friday night. Because “Saturday night + Sunday hangover = no salvation”…
Contents: A few cartons of beer, the number depending on whether it was pay week and who actually contributed. Hot stuff is a luxury. Chaser in the form of mango skin, potato chips and oreos. Yes. Oreos. If a few of you smoke weed then well and good. Just make sure to lock the doors in-case one of them goes on the “wow i’m totally flat!” trips again.
Company: The smaller the crowd, the more intimate the friendship circle. Usually its just you and a few mates, choosing to drown your sorrows the cheaper way. If the circle gets any bigger via additional girls/guys, then its time to forgo the water cooler stories and bring out the wit and charm
The Scene Breakdown
6:32pm: Meet up with the rest of the guys to pool money for the beer. Usually the guy with the car gets the beer. If no one has a car, then the group breaks into two. The first group goes and gets the beer. The second group gets the snacks and makes their way to the house first.
8:00pm: You’re the last guy to arrive at the house. Hey, a fashionably late entrance is better then not coming in at all, no? Of course, arriving late also means having to catch up with the alcohol intake, so usually that means a full cup for you. No excuses.
“Woooo who is this falla who want to come late like this huh? This not your father’s house aye?!”
(motions the taki master for a full cup)
“Mai mai come inside, this full cup for you so that you don’t come late again eh? Totolo mada boci!”
8:30pm: The beer is starting to flow nice and easy. Conversation has picked up, and the beer runs quick….or not so, depending on how great the ‘taki’ master* is. Everyone has settled down into the groove, and getting to know the new guests is helped with alcohol. After all, its true what they say: with beer, EVERYONE is your bestest best friend
“Bula bro, James.”
“Io bula, Alvin.”
“Set. You working with Adriel?”
“Yeah us gang same company. The falla said he wanted to drink this weekend so me, Adriel and John put in for one box.”
9:02pm: This is when the guitarist in the circle starts to look/ask around for an outlet of his artistic/showoff potential. General rule of thumb is if you’re boozing at a grog dope’s house, there will always be a guitar nearby. When the guitar is found, both the songs and the singer come to play. Of course, it would help if popular songs were chosen, so as to fulfill the rest of the group’s drunken desire to join in
9:20pm: The quick and often toilet breaks begin.
10:15pm: By this time the first box should be over and done with, and the alcohol has began its nifty work on everyone’s sense of humour. Jokes and laughs are aplenty, and the first stage of ‘lose lips’ makes itself known.
“So who was banging Maciu? Juliet or Nina?”
“Both! Hahahahaha-”
(Realizes that that may have been one word too many)
…
“I mean…I bluuuffff!”
10:30pm: Guys who have targeted a potential lay have started laying the foundations and are already in formation, ready at a moment’s notice to swoop in for the kill.
“Here here just one more round eh? Don’t worry myself too sa drunk saraga!”
10:40pm: People are now subsequently drunk enough to either:
(a) Hit the clubs
(b) Hit another box or two
If (a) then usually everyone ups and leaves, with only the hardcore/too-old-for-clubbing choosing to remain behind and have a bowl of grog. Don’t worry, they’ll be back after 1am when the clubs close, albit more drunk and less controlled.
If (b) then money is pooled once again, transport is sought after, and a box of beer (or two, depending on the looseness of the wallets) is attained. And then we’re guaranteed to continue
End of Part 1
Coming up in Part 2: When beer and bravado go hand in hand…generally the hand suffers…
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