End of the World…or Age of the Raptor

Maia and I decided to celebrate 12-12-12 the other Wednesday. You know, seeing as it’s the last time we are ever going to have a completely identical numbered date in our lifetime. Not to mention the world is supposedly meant to end soon (although personally I think the Mayans just got tired of counting the days. Good on them for extending the calendar that far past their existence, by the way. Impressive display of perseverance; I would have lost all interest in creating such a monumental calendar right around my approximated year of death. Morbid? Maybe. Apathetic? Definitely.). And we can’t forget, well, any excuse to party on your day off, right?

Anyway, the title of this post is a little bit misleading…apart from being our pub crawl/party theme, the end of the world has nothing to do with the following tale. This story is more of a prelude to our end of the world atttempt at a pub crawl. It must start with how the Age of the Raptor came into existence.

When Erin and I were in New Zealand back in 2009, we created a phenomenon called the “raptor run”. I can’t recall exactly how we came up with it; I think we went through a spell of imitating a kea and, during that time while drunk on absinthe and gas chamber shots one fateful night, morphed the kea into the raptor. While its origins are just a little fuzzy, the raptor run has remained steadfast for three years running now. I don’t know how to explain it, really. In order to raptor run you put your hands up in front of you, fingers in a claw-like fashion, crouch down, arch your back, and run by kicking out your legs while simultaneously letting out a raptor rawr reminiscent of a kea call. (It looks kind of like the creep, only faster and less….pervy)(ok after watching it again it’s not as close a replica as I initially thought.. At least you have an idea of what raptor claws look like…) You have to see the raptor run in action before you can fully appreciate the beauty of it, but hopefully you have gleaned at least an abstract mental picture.

A couple of weeks ago Maia and I were hosting Sunday Funday at the bar, which ended with me raptor running around the bar like a fool. And yes, we were sober and having more fun than the three drunk patrons at the bar. Since that night, Maia has fallen in love with the raptor run and makes me do it at the bar all the time. Good thing I’m not shy. But I digress. About two weeks ago Maia, Ashley and I went to Sumner Beach. Our day involved spelunking for amateurs (aka crawling around on some rocks that were kind of in a cave on the beach), trying to release Maia from her petrified state481552_10151205964405017_1312313560_n due to a mild case of arachnophobia (all I could see were here legs as she lay wedged between two spider web laced rocks, frozen in fear and yelling “This is not ok! I am not ok!”), blatantly drinking a bottle of red wine from the bottle on the beach, and finding our new local, The Thirsty Mariner (some love us there, some hate us..so it goes). Since we had 44706_10151205963320017_275972228_npolished off our wine before making it to the bar (and drinking cider on the way to the beach before that) we were well on our way to foolish drunkenness. We meandered into The Thirsty Mariner just in time for happy hour.

After a couple of drinks Maia dares me to do the raptor run through the bar and says she’ll buy me a shot. Tipsy and apparently willing to embarrass myself for more free booze, I agreed and started for the door to run my loop. I got to the door and surveyed my path, but saw the amount of strangers in the bar and I began to question my decision. Maia, seeing my hesitation, yells out, “Who wants to see the raptor run! Raptor run!!” I swear every head swiveled my direction and stared at me as I stood, half crouched in the doorway with my hands in claw position, late afternoon sun filtering in behind me. There was no backing out of this now, it was now or never. I inwardly cursed Maia’s name before letting out a ferocious raptor rawr and took off. I weaved my way through tables full of people as I made my way from one end of the bar to the other. My performance was rewarded not only with cheers and clapping, but I also received four drinks and two numbers! (Don’t worry, I havent called either of them).

A week later Maia and I returned to The Thirsty Mariner for our end of the world pub crawl. Upon walking in a group of locals at a back table yelled out, “Oh hey! It’s raptor girl!” and summoned me over to say hello. It only took one day in Sumner for me to gain a reputation. If the world doesn’t end on the 21st, it is destined to be the age of the raptor.

For the record, we failed (again) at pub crawling. For some reason Maia and I can’t seem to ever make it to more than 3 bars…we get stuck at the Irishman every. single. time.

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One thought on “End of the World…or Age of the Raptor

  1. Pingback: The Gift That Keeps On Giving | Life As I See It

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