Guarentee

Monday I leave for New Zealand and I’m SO excited. I’ll be exploring the whole South Island, aka Middle Earth, which I hear is gorgeous. Since I’ll be doing this on my own, it would be too expensive to rent a car (plus the last time I rented a car in a country where they drive on the wrong side of the road, I crashed it). So I’ve been looking into various hop-on/hop-off bus options.

The most renown of these busses is the Kiwi Experience. The “Big Green Fuck Truck,” as it’s known by the locals, is notorious for drunken British students on holiday from Uni who experience the inside of the bus and each other’s privates more than the stunning New Zealand country side. As entertaining as this sounds, I’m concerned that this is not exactly my scene. And after being trapped on a bus with these pimple-faced horn-dogs for days on end, I’m afraid I’d be driven to bungee jump off the bridge in Queenstown sans bungee.

Luckily, I found a helpful man at the travel agent’s yesterday and he gave me some good advice. “People go on Kiwi experience because they’re guaranteed to get laid,” he told me. “I think you’d be happier on the Magic Bus Company. It’s still social, but a slightly more mature crowd.”

He followed this with, “But I can personally guarantee that you get laid on any tour – what days will you be traveling exactly?”

Generous though he was, I politely declined his offer and booked a ticket on the Magic Bus. The last thing I’m looking for is a guaranteed lay. I’m 30, after all. A mature adult. And I prefer more of a challenge.