Boobs on bikes
Danielle Heyns, born and bred in SA, recently moved to New Zealand. As she tries to find her feet she stumbled onto a boobs on bikes rally in Auckland. This is what she found.
Those who complain that there is a shortage of men in New Zealand would have made a bit of a 'boob' of themselves last Wednesday.
I couldn�t believe it myself. All I�ve read since I�ve arrived in Kiwiland about two months ago, is that the country is experiencing a severe man shortage. Women�s magazines claim this. So do newspapers and investigative publications.
It�s been �scientifically� proved by a South African/Kiwi friend of mine who deals with a lot of statistics in her job. This is, naturally, the first thing she checked, given the chance. "It�s true," she says, "there just aren�t a lot of men our age."
"Aaah..." I thought, "now it makes sense!" I�ve just arrived from the UK and, going out in England and Scotland, I would often get the alien feeling that men outnumbered women about five to one. Alien, because this, ask any Capetonian girl, is the complete opposite to the situation in Cape Town.
Hmm... so, could one then deduce that all boys in the Southern Hemisphere are currently living in the UK?
Back to last Wednesday. I arrived in Auckland for a job interview and was picked up at the bus stop by my second cousin. "You�ll have to excuse the crowd," she said. "Some porn stars are going to be marching down Queen Street topless."
I remembered my cousin in Cape Town sending me an email on something of the sort, with the eager request: "Please send me pictures on New Zealand�s moral decline." "Oh, is that today?" I asked. "What timing!"
As we neared Queen Street, Auckland�s main road, it became clear that we might not be crossing the road for some time. The side streets were packed, and we had to fight our way through the crowd in an attempt to cross the streets. The crowd had stopped all traffic.
By the time we reached Queen Street, I realised the crowd consisted almost entirely of men!
There were all kinds of men, and all of them in little packs, like wolves are bound to do. Men in business suits, men in overalls, teenage boys in baggy pants, grungy student boys. Men sitting on balconies and roof tops, even men angrily shoving us out of the way to get a glimpse of the street...
And there we stood, two goed opgevoede Afrikaans girls who hadn�t seen each other since we were kids in the Cape, amongst all these men. "I feel like a pervert," my cousin blurted. I had my luggage with me, so I assured her we could pass as unsuspecting tourists.
A kind of mob mentality seemed to take over the men with their bemused and sometimes outright leering expressions. Some looked at me as if they expected me to start stripping. I started to sympathise with the handful of protesters across the streets, who held placards reading: "Sleaze brings disease to body and mind."
In the midst of all of this, something else was taking place. A union strike was being held in the square behind us. Only many of the strikers seemed to have literally turned their backs on their fellow union members, and were positioned facing the street. "What are you protesting against?" I asked one of these guys. "Ah� the government," he said absent-mindedly, screening the street in anticipation. When I didn�t leave, he handed me a pamphlet � all of this without once taking his eyes off the street. To quote a bystander: "Nice time to take a day off." Indeed.
"If you like hooters, make a noise!" came the shout, and, there it was � the Boobs on Bikes parade. Appreciative shouts rang from the audience as topless women perched on motorcycles, driven by old men, made their way through the streets.
Lots of hotpants, g-strings and leather...
There were also a few topless male porn stars thrown into the equation � one of whom stripped down to a pink underpants thingy and did a... well, �free willy� dance, I guess. Followed by a lot of boo-hissing from the overwhelmingly straight and male crowd.
Let�s face it, the two of us weren�t particularly interested in �hooters�, other than to spot the fake ones, and waiting for all 20 flashers to pass seemed to drag on forever.
One of the female strike leaders was having none of it either, and started shouting about workers� rights over the mic. Just a pity that half of her fellow workers had joined the nipple spectacle.
Then one of the strikers started singing Bob Dylan songs, which was meant, I am sure, to reflect on the workers� situation, but fitted in just as nicely with the �free love� vibe emanating from the street.
After a while, our hunger got the best of us � it was lunchtime, after all � and we left the 20 000-strong crowd behind and headed to the nearest food court.
"Not interested in the parade, then?" I asked the guy behind me at the sushi bar.
"What parade?" he asked, jokingly.
Maybe he, like us, was more hungry than curious. Or maybe he found it "morally repugnant," like Auckland mayor Dick Hubbard.
As for the whole male shortage thing... well, at least that seems to be a bit of a myth. Just to make sure, we went clubbing in the city centre that weekend, and most of the people we met were male. In fact, most seemed to be South African, but that�s a story for another day..
News source: www.news24.co.za
Posted by: South Africa Car Hire - Click Click... Vroom, Vroom
