New Years Part 2 - the Dust Room

We were greeted by a very depressing sight. A wet, dust filled room made of concrete. It was cold. It was shit. It was fucking FULL of dust. I hated it. The rain was pouring down and we had nowhere else to stay.We needed alcohol, and fast. We decided to go into Tauranga to get supplies that would keep us warm in that dungeon. The conversation in the car was as follows:

A: What the fuck, we have to stay in the fucking dust room? That place is where demons go to die.
Me: We can just set up the tent inside, it'll be ok.
L: Tent?
A: WHAT THE HELL! You never said we were camping!
Me: Whoops...uh...shit...
A: Nice organising skills. You fail.
Me: Whatever, it'll be fine, we just need some squabs and shit. And loads of beer, the solution to all life's problems.

We stopped at rebel sport where Andrew and I bought deck chairs to sleep on. Trust me, it sounds stupid but I didn't much fancy sleeping in an inch of dust on that mother-fucker of a floor. It was like a concentration camp. The room next to us had a cousin of Steph (the girls whose place we were staying) and all he had was a shitty squab. Fuck that. No room in the house for a blood relative? They make him sleep in the construction site! He was probably a prisoner, some random wanderer that they had picked up and were forcing to work on the house. What chance do we have? Good, amazingly, we managed to stay at the rental property itself, on the floor, but it was warm and carpeted and we were VERY drunk ( a theme that was prevalent the five days we were away).

NEXT TIME: SECRETS AND REVELATIONS!