Dreams & Truths

I had horrid fever dreams last night; horrid in hindsight, but at the time they were all heavily infused with a sense of savage glee. I dreamt that I had agreed to be a surrogate mother for a friend, but then fell off a water tower and miscarried on purpose because I was worried about getting fat; I dreamt that my legs got infected because my socks were too tight and I had to have my skin peeled back and the pus pulled out with tongs; I dreamt that I was some sort of Rambo figure who travelled back in time and killed people with a sentient, tentacled mechanical device that latched onto their faces and sucked their brains out through their eyes and mouths, having first locked them all inside a school hall, and it was great. Then I woke up and worried about myself a bit.

Anyway, moving on from my terrifying subconscious, you will remember that a while ago I did a post where I wrote ten statements and asked you to guess which five were true and which five were not. Here is...The Truth! That's a pretty unjustified exclamation mark, The Truth is not overly exciting.

1) I have never been to a strip club, but I have auditioned to dance at one.
False. I've never auditioned to dance at a strip club, but I have been to one. It was disappointingly dull.

2) I used to date a guy who grew his toenails really long then cut them off and kept them in a jar, along with picked scabs and particularly large bits of peeled sunburn.
True. He thought this was charmingly macabre; I thought it was revolting. The relationship did not last.

3) I have never broken a bone, but once I broke a boner.
True! I am so very sorry, I really don't make a habit of this.

4) It makes me really sad that the interrobang, my favourite punctuation mark, has fallen into disuse.
True - this was a fairly easy question, really.

5) At the opening of the NZ School of Music, I played Ravel's 'Bolero' without any music because I went outside for a smoke beforehand and forgot to bring the music back in.
False. I did play at the opening of the NZSM, and it was 'Bolero', but I had music. I also had a coughing fit in the middle. Coughing fits onstage are horrible because it's not like you can just leave the room and get a glass of water. You also have to be very very quiet about it because the violins are making that noise that they make and people are, for some reason, trying to listen.

6) The most money I've ever spent on a single item was $150, on these shoes.
False! The most I've ever spent on an item of clothing/footwear was $190 on a black, strapless cocktail dress. I wore it once and then it didn't fit for bloody years, but now it fits again and I wear it. Good story, eh.

7) When I was little, I believed that if you managed to cross your eyes but still focus on the Moon you were deserving of a wish, and tried this every night with varied success.
False. I did, however, believe for years that if I flicked my fingers out in front of me while crossing the road, it would create some kind of force field and cars wouldn't hit me.

8) When I had a shaved head, I was spotted by a model scout at a karaoke bar.
True! But in his defense, he was very drunk. Also I suspect he may have been a pervert.

9) Once, on an ill-fated school trip to Tauranga, I was almost molested by a poker-playing fireman.
Not true. Sheesh.

10) Once, on an ill-fated school trip to Blenheim, I was almost arrested by a tuba-playing policeman.

True.

In my last year of school, the school jazz band went to a competition held in Blenheim, which is where I lived until I was 14. The best way I can think of to describe Blenheim is to say that if I hadn't moved away I'd be married with children by now. Anyway, as the school minivan drove down Blenheim's less-than-exciting main drag to our motel, we passed a stationery store that had outside it a giant yellow desk chair, mounted on a pole about 2 metres high. Josh, my saxophone-playing friend (who now has a degree in performance sax and is working on a Chemistry one, prompting such nicknames as 'Doctor Jazz'), looked at the chair in wonder. His little eyes gleamed. "We have to sneak out and climb that," he said. (Christchurch does not have many giant objects.) I, with my prior knowledge of the town, mentioned that in fact many stores in Blenheim sported giant objects - and at that moment, we passed a giant chainsaw atop the roof of a hardware store. Josh said, "Ooo."

A couple of nights later, we waited until about midnight and then Josh, myself, a quiet yet impressionable trumpet player called Peter, and Lachlan, an uncontrollable trombonist, snuck out of the motel in search of giant objects to conquer. The chainsaw was closest to the motel, and the boys scaled the building then rode the chainsaw while I, as mission photographer, stood below and snapped happily away. The giant yellow chair followed, and then we all stood about at a bit of a loss.

Suddenly, I remembered. On top of a Liquor King right in the town centre was a beer can about 2.5 metres high, and it was obvious that there was no way we could leave this unmolested. We made our highly excited way into town - by this stage it was probably about 2am - and the boys, with the aid of some construction equipment and a lot of youthful exuberance, climbed onto the roof and embraced the giant can. As I took photos of them in various poses, it was obvious that this was the crowning achievement of the night and quite possibly our lives.

Then a loudspeaker hailed us: "We can see you. Get down." In my excitement over Giant Objects, I had forgotten that the liquorstore was approximately 2 buildings over from the police station. Whoops. Obviously, the responsible thing to do would have been to stay put - we hadn't vandalised anything, weren't drinking or taking drugs, and it was entirely possible that several members of the po-po had also been tempted to have their picture taken with the Giant Beer Can at some point and might have understood. So we ran. If we'd gone right, we would've disappeared down the riverbank and been able to sneak back to the motel. So instead we went left, straight into the centre of town, and were abruptly encircled by about 5 police cars and a team of sniffer dogs. (Wednesday night in Blenheim is not exactly an exciting one for the force.)

The police took us aside one by one. When it was my turn, the policeman, who was, as all good policemen should be, large and intimidating, laughed and said, "Little Alice!" For the policeman was none other than the lead tuba player of my childhood brass band - last time he'd seen me I had been a spotty 13-year-old clutching a trumpet. This added an air of jovial absurdity to the entire proceedings, and we were let off with a warning then driven back to the motel with sirens blaring. I believe Lachlan's mother fainted.

The best part was that the music teacher who was in charge of us on the trip didn't end up telling the school - if he had, we would've all been sent home the next day, and he didn't want to lose his soloists. We stayed, won the competition, and suffered exactly zero consequences (teaching us all the valuable lesson that if people need you, you can get away with anything).

Went back to Blenheim a couple of years ago and the giant beer can was gone! I can't imagine why.