Despite Nelson being the sunshine capital of New Zealand, the Saturday of Marchfest was rain, rain, and more rain. I arrived at the park at 11, already dripping wet from riding my bike there. I chose the outdoor booth with the thought that if we switched up shifts, I'd get to go inside when it got cold that night. It turned out to be my bar for the whole day, and bonus! It kept in heat naturally. My shift partner was a fun, cheerful English guy named Dan who helped everything go smoothly.
The rain kept people away in the early afternoon, and we danced to the music playing on the stage 20 metres away, sampled all the beers, and chatted about travelling. By 3, the crowds had showed up in full force and we had a lineup 50 people long for the next five hours. I have never bar tended before, and it was interesting to see people of all ages and types absolutely wasted. One woman had grown up in the Okanagan in BC, and when she found out I was Canadian, stepped back in shock for a few seconds, and then insisted on giving me one of those awkward high fives where she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. It was funny at first, but the next time she came back to the bar, found out I was Canadian, stepped back in shock for a few seconds, and then insisted on giving me one of those awkward high fives where she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. After her fourth return to the bar, she remembered who I was but wanted to talk about maple syrup and hockey despite the long line of people behind her.
We spent the last hour of our shift checking out the festival grounds, catching the last few songs of Alabama 3, and drinking cider. I ended up working over 10 hours at the festival, which resulted in my first glorious paycheck in four months. Money aside, the whole experience was definitely well worth the raisin fingers and wet clothing that made me feel like I'd been in a bath all day.
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| Beers of Marchfest |
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