The Venue Macarana Stadium, Rio De Janeiro. The largest public urinal in the world. The entire place wreaked of toiletry odors, the temp was up in the forty's and the humidity as thick as porridge.

The local crew were working for catering as wages, and what ever they could steal off the touring crew. One of our guys had a lie down on a flight case, and made the mistake of taking off his shoes and placing them beside him. Of course when he woke up they were gone! The funniest thing was that, the guy had the cheek to wear them for the load out that night. We thought any one that stupid and desperate actually deserved to keep them.

We had a record breaking crowd that night for the stadium, and they were going off big time. Out the back near the video chaps were the monitors for the roving crowd cameras. On close zoom shots we could clearly see what 50% of the crowd was up to. SHAGGING! they were rutting like rabbits! They didn't give a damn who saw anything, bent over the seats, laid back over two seats, sitting face to face, you name it they were doing it!

Of course THAT HAD to be put up on the enourmous screens either side of the PA wings! That show was the last of the tour segment, and the next day everyone flew home, except for anyone who had to travel to NZ. Two of us had to stay for another two days in Rio at this fabulous hotel on the beach. We Knew some locals there by this time and had purchased rather a silly amount of Brazilian marching powder, and so had all the other crew. So as they had to go and catch their planes we got phone calls saying you can have mine, I can't do it all before my flight! Oh well, we had to help out our mates didn't we?

We over indulged seriously for two days with some local girls on this stockpile and still had to give some away to them when it was time to catch our plane. I stepped up to the airline counter to present my ticket, jaw locked together, and feeling a bit nervous. As I placed my ticket on the desk, a large white rock fell from my nose, bounced off the ticket, rolled across the counter and ended up resting right beside the attendants hand .

She just gave me a smile, brushed the rock away and proceeded to upgrade me to business class. Now, Business class on aerolineas argentineous is about like cattle class on Air Espanol'a Flying Donkey Crates. The trolley dolleys were all in their fifties and looked like old whores but with no people skills. After getting to Buenos Aires, and having a twelve hour lay over, suffering badly from withdrawals, I contracted a heinous south american flu, This kicked in as we were nearing the south pole. We were due to make a stop over on some barren ice cap. As I was still wearing my shorts and singlet that I departed Rio with, and feeling awful, I was not too keen on getting off the plane at the fucking south pole, sitting in a corrugated iron shed with no heating for four hours. So, I hid under the seat in business class. I got sprung, and ejected from the aircraft, and did indeed have to sit in a tin shed in my shorts and kinglet in the middle of the south pole for four hours.

After 36 hrs of travel, I finally arrived in Auckland. I must admit I did look like shit, but that wasn't the reason. I was hauled into the little rubber glove room. It turned out the other kiwi I was traveling with had previous drug convictions. So after a thorough inspection of all the necessary cavities I was finally let through the gates. A glamorous job, but someone's gotta do it!

Regards Glenn Border.