There is no other DJ that gets me as excited as Paul Van Dyk (aka PvD). He’s widely regarded as God to millions of party people. He likes to entertain, meet his fans and nudge down a hefty sum of drinks from his elaborate rider, before, during and after his set.

The event’s being held at The Studio, but I wouldn’t care if it was held on the Mangere mudflats. I’d be there, and I urge you to be also. Presales are out, and just $39.90. The cost will escalate up to $90 or $100 for door sales, not that I anticipate there being any.

OK, so calming down and getting back to earth for a bit: on Thursday I took 6 guide getters to see one of the best basketball games I think I’ve ever seen live. At half time I was ready to leave; the NZ Breakers were being d!cked by the Crocs by 15 points, but I’d come this far and it was everyone else’s first time, so I hung in there. Like the rest of the crowd I spent the majority of the second half on my feet, yelling advice and yahooing. We won by 1 point, just. I couldn’t get to sleep for hours after that win, I’m still slightly reeling. Can’t wait for this weeks match verse the Adelaide 36ers, if anyone’s going please let me know, we can make a night of it.

Friday on the large was odd. Must have been the lack of sleep caused from the elation, but everywhere I went I had a very average time. We thought we’d get the night of to a good start with a bit of comedy. The Late Show, hosted by Jamie Bowen was an abomination, we nearly walked out. They all struggled and it was obvious that they couldn’t wait to get out of the spotlight. The best performer was the novice on second, he was so vague and petrified it was hilarious.

Favouring the fresh air we walked down to check out the freshly renovated Code Bar. It wasn’t finished, there was still wet paint and drop sheets down. The tunes were fabulous but the turnout was not. Seba on Fort Street was next for Elmo’s birthday. The party was pretty good with the feel of a club crossed with a social house party. I think I was just 5 years too old to be there. I appreciated the invite though.

Needing Agavero shots we thought The Pony Club could sort us out. Apparently not, we were barred from entry. Looking at the cliental that were lurking in and out I think the unfriendly bouncers actually did us a good turn. I can’t wait for Brooke to get back from his Rugby tour; that place needs to be shaped up. Flight Lounge was no better with a cover charge for just an ordinary night. Don’t they make enough from their drinks?

Not wanting to give up we hurtled to The Late Club (when I said “On the double” I didn’t mean terrify us with Lewis Hamilton F1 cornering – thanks any way for the swift passage Gold Band). 1.15am on a Saturday morning was obviously too late for the place; it was fully operational, but nobody was home. So we wandered to my old faithful, SpyBar. It was just as I’d left it last weekend, absolutely humming. I should have left while I had the chance, within an hour it had turned to custard. My girl had got the wrong end of the stick and I had some explaining to do. She was determinedly adamant and could not be swayed. This heated discussion spilled out onto the street, and up and down a few more. A taxi whisked her away to clear out everything from my apartment. I bounded up to my car on K Rd, took the back streets and tried to head her off at Khyber Pass. Her taxi-man must have been the same one we’d hailed earlier, as she was home when I got there, and all packed up. 2 hours of chatting later we fell asleep.

My destination for Saturday night was Mount Maunganui. My mate Simon had enjoyed The Caravan Of Love party so much he wanted to show what he could do in his home town. I decided to take my lady, and try and make things lovely-dovely once again. We past through the mural capital of NZ, the antique capital, the corrugated iron, the biggest real ice-cream in a cone specials, de-ja-vu and non-sprayed avocado capitals of NZ, it was a real buzz.

On arrival we were whisked to Astrolab and given a stiff drink, followed by a brief tour of The Mount, which included important topics like, “who owns that lavish house and what I think of them”. Bethlehem was next, and for those who have never been down Tauranga, yes that’s what it’s called (there’s even a Judea). Julie’s house was amazing and we were about to spend the next 2 hours getting to know it very well, aided by some terrific Tequila, tacos and techno. Adam’s 3 story palace back in The Mount ensued, where fresh recruits joined company. It was getting late so we went nearby to Sophie’s birthday party. 80’s themed in everyway, it was a crack-up.

This being my first night out on the town in Tauranga/The Mount, I wanted to have a look at the infamous Buddha Lounge. I was in luck: it was first on the town agenda, so we rocked up. It was odd not knowing a soul but everyone seemed nice enough. Duncan the owner could not have been more accommodating, so we stayed till close (3am). Feeling fantastic we partied on till dawn and watched a jaw-dropping sunrise.

Sunday was a blur, more unheardofly great hospitality and blissfulness. The 4.30am start Monday morning to get back in time for work wasn’t pretty, but it was all worth it. Roll on this weekend.

Just got wind of “Sublime Times” cocktail Party on November 3rd. But you didn’t hear it from me. And if you wanted to go you should email robert@sublimenz.co.nz. It’ll be pretty fly for a white guy, in fact anyone.