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When someone’s getting blind drunk in public, what should we do?
In a slow part of the second day of the first cricket test between India and New Zealand at the Basin Reserve, I found distraction watching a man in the crowd who stood out for being rotten drunk and because he was wearing floral pyjamas. Perhaps he came to the ground always intending to make a spectacle of himself. I doubt that he remembers.
At one point, I was sure he had drunk his last beer, because the coordination required to get the plastic glass to his mouth was becoming difficult. However, just as
I thought that, his mates arrived with another round. He downed his glass and started on the next. Not long after, he staggered away towards the hospitality section carrying a drinks tray. I assumed he would never make it, and if he did, not be served, but 10 minutes later he was weaving his way back, somehow retaining most of the beer in the cups. I became worried about how his day would end and did not have to wait long to find out.
I had moved away and was looking down when I suddenly heard shouts of “run, run!” Thinking a New Zealand batsman was about to be run out, I looked up to see the man in the floral pyjamas sprinting across the outfield, pursued by a security guard. He was brought down quickly and escorted off the pitch. The security guards on each side of him may have been helping him walk, rather than restraining him. The last I saw of them, he was being marched away to scattered applause and a standing ovation from a few people who were pleased to have witnessed some action.
Not long after, a message came up on the big screen reminding patrons that pitch invasions could result in thousands of dollars in fines or imprisonment.
I hope neither fate befell the man in the floral pyjamas. He was failed – by his own will, by his friends and by apparently being served alcohol when anyone could have seen that he had already drunk far too much.
I think about him now with a sense of selfrecrimination, because I, like everyone around him, did nothing to intervene when he was beyond helping himself. I do not excuse or condone public drunkenness, but sometimes I pity it.
It is unusual for me to sign a petition, because I am not by nature a joiner of things and also because if I want to complain, I will do it myself. However, I have signed Forest & Bird’s petition calling for the management of the whitebait fishery. At least, I think that’s what it called for. That’s another problem with petitions – remembering what it was that you signed.
Conservation Minister Eugenie Sage is correct that whitebaiting is part of New Zealand culture. She is also right that, by implication, finding the balance between the overfishing that occurs now and the need to preserve the species – the whitebait that is, not the whitebaiters – will not be easy.
We can all understand that people in rural areas do not want to be told by those in Wellington what they can and cannot do. Actually, here in Wellington we do not necessarily like being told what we can and cannot do, either, but there are usually fewer work opportunities in rural areas, so additional restrictions have a significant economic impact.
Forest & Bird is among conservation groups that often oppose commercial opportunities on grounds of environmental protection. This is one of those challenges that counts. Some of the other battles – because people don’t like mountain bikes or the noise of helicopters, for example – need to be let go, because rural lifestyles deserve protection, too.
People in rural areas do not want to be told by those in Wellington what they can and cannot do.