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Bummer Of A Summer

January 16th, 2012 by admin

There have been cheerier summers here in Wellington. This year, summer weather seems to be cancelled, Blanket Man is dead, another dead body disrupted the Harbourside Market on Sunday, and National is getting ready to privatize half the government offices.

At Wazzer’s job, Chelsea, the trim blonde waitress, is asking if Wazzer knows anyone looking for a flat mate. But the flat that Chelsea is seeking is elusive this year. Wazzer’s not much help. “Ram knows a guy, Gerard, he’s a mature classical musician. Okay, he’s a 58-year-old timpanist. And a friend of my sister’s, Hazel, is looking for someone. She’s in Northland. She’s also about to have a baby, on her own.”

Chelsea shakes her head. “Yeah, but no. Hey, did you hear? The Garden Club,” the venue for every mildly entertaining independent dance event, “has been sold. To a big chain of strip clubs based in Auckland. You think I could be a stripper? I could make enough money for a flat of my own, then.”

“Lookswise, totally. But who goes to a strip club when prostitution is legal? Except as a way to say they were ‘just’ at the strip club? If there were any money in stripping in Wellington, I’d know people who did it. Like with being a legal hooker. But I don’t know any strippers.”

Chelsea gapes. “You mean you know people who –-”

Then the kitchen yells “Order up!” and Chelsea whirls away.

Tags: 3 Comments

3 responses so far ↓

  • Oldest profession.

    It is rather sweet that Blanket Man was unique enough to become something of a celebrity. In Albuquerque we had Naked Guy (who wasn’t actually naked, he wore a pair of running shoes and some very small cut-off blue jean shorts, sunglasses and a ball cap.) But he was more famous for also having placards with political opinions next to him at a particular intersection. He sometimes spoke on a local cable access show also.

    My shop, while I had one, in Minneapolis was near both the university and an overpass bridge near the river that had a longtime shanty town in it; there was and I’m sure still is a regular cast of characters, nearly all longtime alcoholics and several schizophrenics, and not a few talented buskers in the lot. Some of them actually consigned art in my store. None of them ever reached Blanket Man’s fame.

  • The amount of social services available to him (housing offered, health/hospital care) speaks well of NZ, as did folks’ generosity towards him. RIP Blanket Man and thanks for all the lessons.