J00sterJournal: Bro Town Part 1: Fries to Chips

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Bro Town Part 1: Fries to Chips

When a Cahan bro is getting hitched the call to arms echos far and wide, from the concrete canyons of Midtown to the oil-soaked bayous of Texas, all the way out to the surf-kissed beaches of SoCal and New South Wales. Like the Horn of Gondor's clarion note it summons a scattered people to return home, over the Misty Mountains and across the Great Sea, through blinding snow and blazing heat. Ok fine, it's more like a WhatsApp channel, but you get the idea.

Phase one of the Operation Pukeko airlift involves a ferry flight to the West Coast staging base. From there the advanced scout team will launch the first assault under the cover of darkness, clearing the way for a wave of heavy reinforcements two weeks later.

Don't worry son, I heard they only stuff doggies in the overhead bins.

Let's see, we could either fly another 14 hours or stop right here. Tough call.

One more sleepy time and those are chips, eh bro?

A long time ago a great warrior from Hawaiki named Kupe sailed over the horizon to discover a mysterious paradise shrouded in a long white cloud, where even a modest fixer-upper pa costs a million bucks.

Generally the Whale Rider, you know, like, rides the whale.

Enjoy. The next sunset you see will be from 42K. In fact, so will the next sunrise.

Speaking of sunrises, they tend to come awfully early when your alarm clock is two years old and set to east coast time.

Let's see, water that's too cold to swim in, jumpers instead of togs, why you're basically home already son.

Dad, how will we know when we're there? Just keep an eye out for a garage by a bay son.

Just remember son, never, ever, under any circumstances does a Kiwi Kid wear shoes. Not to the dairy. Not to the beach. And most certainly not to Pak 'n Save. For the latter you don't need to wear a shirt either.