An idiot went to a concert, fell down some stairs, fractured his ankle, and now hangs out in hospital...
THIS... is that idiot's story. Because social media can go to hell, and texting is annoying.
Last update: 2/2/2026 16:45 NZDT
Phil and I were going to see SUMAC at Whammy Bar in Auckland on Friday Jan 30. Alex and I had headed up early, had a few beers at some of our favourite places, and met up with Phil at Saint Leonards Brewing and from there, we wandered in to town. Well, kinda. It was further than Alex felt like walking, so we ubered the last couple of kms. Cheating aside, we had a last pint at Northern Line and then decided to part ways, with Alex looking forward to a nice night on the town without this ol' ball and chain, and Phil and I making our way to the gig, just over the road. And down some stairs...
Those of you familliar with Whammy Bar might have already spotted the problem.
You see, Whammy Bar is the UPSTAIRS smaller venue. Double Whammy is the DOWNSTAIRS, larger venue. Sortof. Because after you go downstairs, to Double Whammy, you then have to walk upstairs, up a steep flight of stairs to the venue proper. And, not that it matters, but it's funny, after you've walked in upstairs, to Whammy, you then go DOWNSTAIRS, down a steep flight.
So yeah, we went downstairs, then upstairs, then realised we had been talking so much bollocks that we'd been on autopilot to the wrong venue. No worries. Back down the stairs we go and... slip, crash, thump, CRACK, ... shit. Luckily that last one wasn't literal.
Enter the hero of the evening - the doorman! This absolute legend clearly had paramedic training. He performed a quick concussion test on me, as I'd whacked my head quite hard on the way down. Luckily, it was MY head, so no danger of any damage there. Next, we moved to the ankle. I was frightened to look, after that CRACK. Nobody else had heard it though. So, full mobility. Good sign. Toes wiggling, good sign. Let's put some weight on it. Oh HELL no. We managed, with much help from Phil and said hero doorman (remind me to buy that man a bottle of scotch), as well as another security lad from across the way (look, I'm not tiny, OK?) we managed to get me up to the first landing on the flight of stairs in St. Kevin's Arcade. There I sat, ice (again, provided by hero doorman) on the ankle, hoping that I'd be able to join Phil at the gig. No, Phil wasn't an asshole, I absolutely insisted he carry on and ensure that only one of us wasted our ticket.
I Finally admitted defeat after about 15 minutes, and called Alex to come get me. Poor Alex hadn't even started her awesome night without the annoying husband yet, but dilligently grabbed an Uber, and came to get me. Another Uber was called, and my pain-riddled pathetic ass was dragged to the top of the stairs and manhandled into the Uber. Back to the hotel we went. P.S. If you're staying at the Copthorne on Anzac Ave, don't expect any basic help from the front desk. Not even the use of a wheeled luggage trolley. Just a glare as you hop through a crowded reception leaning on your long-suffering wife!
So... not wanting to deal with Auckland EDs, or getting stuck in Auckland for days/weeks/whatever, we spent a painful night in our hotel room, then headed back to Hamilton, straight to Tui Medical ED - not passing Go, not collecting breakfast. We were then sent to the OTHER Tui branch in Rototuna, as they had X-Ray services. Around 4ish hours later, I'd had x-rays, a bad fracture was declared, and I was in a cast and on my way to Waikato Hospital.
All prepped, so straight in, right? Nope. Another five hours passed, some "interesting" company was kept, and finally, after a brief (two hour) return to ED reception in a wheelchair to be parked due to lack of waiting space, a bed was found!