It's a 15 minute journey to Khandallah, and I arrive 45 minutes before I'm due to meet Michelle. But there's a small cafe right next to the church hall where we'll meet, so I get a coffee and read a property magazine, looking for a rental section. There isn't one, so I leaf blankly through page after page of houses for sale.
Looking occasionally out of the window, I see a succession of amateur thespians strolling into the church hall. I can't see the costumes or props that they're carrying in various bags and boxes, but I'm guessing from their appearance that they're aliens from Star Trek, or freakish creatures from Lord Of The Rings. An ambitious production indeed!
Discarding the property magazine, I go to the small supermarket across the road and buy a magazine. I wanted motorbikes or mountain bikes but they had neither, so it's New Scientist. A bit more intellectual than I wanted, but better than property pages. I go back to the cafe and sit down with a cup of tea. It's a pleasant way to spend some time - the cafe smells of fresh coffee and the girls gossipping at the next desk keep me amused by the intensity of their discussion about Coronation Street.
Michelle arrives, I finish my coffee and we walk to the costume room. I also find out about the Klingon / Lord Of The Ring characters. It turns out that they're not actors at all. On Saturday mornings, the church hall throws opens its doors to computer gamers in the area. I laugh. It all makes sense now, and it should have struck me as odd that so many actors could boast full Klingon hairstyles without needing wigs. For all I know, one of them might have written the Wikipedia page about Klingons.
Michelle turns into a whirlwind of ideas and a deluge of words. She dives into boxes and bags, lunges into hangers and racks full of finery, and thrusts all kinds of costumes in my direction. I'm sure she could play in there for hours, but she has to take her young son to a birthday party and I have to get back to Wellington and get changed. So we settle on a couple of costumes and go our separate ways. Back at the hotel, I transform myself into a rather dapper pirate. I have shiny electric blue knee-length trousers, some white socks that I bought on the way back from the train station, and a very fancy blue jacket that could also be worn by a town cryer. I have a white linen shirt and Michelle has provided us with a couple of false frilly collars. I'm glad the rest of Wellington is in fancy dress too.
I put Gary's costume in a bag, and set off to the bar next to the train station, where we've arranged to meet. The train station is like nothing I've ever seen before. The place is crowded but it takes probably fifteen minutes before I see somebody who isn't in fancy dress. The costumes range from the simple to the elaborate. There's an amazing amount of creativity in many of them. One guy has made a lego-man costume, complete with lego-style hands that look like they're just the right size to hold a beer. There's a troupe of drag queens. There are lots of spidermen. Soldiers, doctors, nurses, firemen. All out in force. There's a cow, a cat, two or three chickens, an emu. Then there are loads of people who don't seem to have come as anything in particular, but they've dressed up. Or painted themselves. There are some people painted orange, some people painted black, some people painted white. If this is just the train station, lord knows what the stadium will be like!
Gary arrives as I finish my second beer, and gets changes in the toilets. We head across the road to a backpacker hostel that i know has coin operated lockers. We're in luck- there's one left. Coins in, combination entered, door locked, and we're on our way. Two pirates strolling through the city centre, joining the throng of every kind of fancy dress imaginable. This is going to be quite an experience.
And so it proves. The capacity at the Westpac stadium is 35,000 and I estimate that 30,000 are in fancy dress. The facilities are good, beer is on sale all around the concourse and is flowing freely. Many people seem to just spend the whole time in the concourse and not bother watching any of the games. There again, most of the people in the seats don't bother watching the game either, and that includes Gary and me. We're just watching the crowd. There's a group of people dressed as a bunch of children's crayons. There are vikings. Cowboys, Indians, American football players etc. There's a group of girls in revealing Uncle Sam costumes, who are just walking around trying to be seen. It works. They're regularly on the big screen, and will no doubt be in tomorrow's papers. Every so often, some part of the crowd starts chanting "Colonel! Colonel!" and pointing. Following the pointing arms, I see a chap who looks remarkably like Colonel Sanders. It turns out that he's well known around Wellington, and chants can often be heard in the street as he walks by. Today he's wearing a waistcoat and white shirt, and with his natural Colonel Sanders appearance, he clearly enjoys the chants as much as the crowd does. It's a unique crowd and a unique event.
And, as bizarre as the rest of the stadium is, the toilets are surreal. I walk into one and see the unmistakeable black silhouette of Zorro, standing facing a urinal. It's bizarre sight, but is beaten shortly afterwards when a beer bottle walks in. I trust he's not desperate - it looks like a costume that will take some time to 'negotiate'.
The whole day is a huge party, climaxing (inside the stadium at least) when New Zealand beat Samoa in a closely fought final. The place goes mental!
With the inconvenience of the rugby behind us, the crowd is disgorged into the warm Wellington night, to party the night away. Gary decides to get changed, so I move on to the Loaded Hog and have some more refreshments. When he arrives, we stroll over to the bars of Courtenay Place. The rest of the night is just a big party. People in fancy dress everywhere, and a city full of bonhomie. There's no way to adequately describe the day, but it certainly has to be experienced in fancy dress.
I'll be back at the Wellington Sevens next year.
