The (lack of) B-52s.

So a couple of weekends ago now, a friend, Chloe, rang me up to ask me if I'd like to go see the B-52s play that night on a wine estate, just outside of Martinborough. She and her two brothers, and a friend, had all bought tickets (approx. $100 each, I believe), but another friend of hers (a reporter) was going to be there covering the concert for the Wairarapa Times-Age. He was getting in for free and had a "plus 1" which I could get into the concert on. And then she said that the Proclaimers were going to be playing at the concert too. So, of course, I accepted the offer! Fun road trip + cool people + aging pop bands? sure!

Cut to a few hours later, and five of us were crammed into four car-seats during the hour-and-a-bit-ish drive to our motel at Lake Ferry (not far from Martinborough). There was much excitement in the car about the concert and we listened to some classic B-52s shit on the stereo, while debating whether we would "walk 10,000 miles just to be the man who fell down at your door", or whether we wouldn't.

We checked into our accom, where we met the reporter friend, and all six of us crammed into his five-seater car and headed off to the concert in the highest of spirits. It was 6:45pm, and the support act would be on by now. It was a beautiful clear and sunny day. Perfect for a big outdoor concert!!

Well, when we got to the estate and parked up it seemed like there wasn't really that many people hanging around the entrance to the property. Strange, but maybe there's more parking down the drive, we thought. As we wandered down the drive, towards the stage, we passed a few cars coming the other way. The people in the cars looked confusedly at us and we looked confusedly at them. What was going on??

Finally we rounded the final corner, and by this time, it seemed fairly obvious that there was no concert, and that there would be no B-52s that night. What we were hoping to see was the opening act on stage, mid-set, with a huge and happy crowd talking and laughing and celebrating all around in anticipation of the upcoming bands. What we actually saw when we rounded that final corner was this:
In case you've never seen this before, let me explain it to you. It's a picture of no one gathered around a stage where the B-52s, the Proclaimers and the other support band are all not playing. And if you squint your eyes you'll be able to make out a few people on stage, busy dismantling the stage.

After a bit of asking around (there were all the crew and support etc still milling around by the food tent), we found out that the show had been canceled due to high winds. High Winds?? It was still and sunny and warm!! But apparently there were high winds about an hour earlier when the bands were due to start, so they canned the whole thing and sent everyone home. The only entertainment still going was a drunken old dude playing drunken old Deep Purple covers on the red, strat-type guitar on his lap (to which he'd applied liberal amounts of flange and chorus).

We also found out that anyone who had paid for a ticket could get a full refund from the place they'd bought it from.

After thinking about the situation of the B52s and the Proclaimers canceling because of wind, I did some fairly simple mathematics, and proved the following:

The B-52s + The Proclaimers = NOT VERY FUCKING ROCK'N'ROLL

After eating some free cold hamburgers, we left. Fairly dejected, and fairly sober now. We decided that the best course of action was to try and get at least a partial refund on our accom. expenses, and high-tail it back to Wellington and get plastered in the safety of the city. Unfortunately, When we got back to our accom. the owners were nowhere to be found, so we cut our losses, and we buggered off.

The above is an accurate account of the time I went to see the B-52s and the Proclaimers. Lame-o. Sweet road-trip though.