Viewing penguins, touring heritage buildings, and taking photographs of the Dunedin Railway Station are all good things to do when you come to Dunedin. For long-term residents, though, a favourite activity is being angry. To help newcomers, David Loughrey has put together a guide to being angry in Dunedin.
Plenty of Dunedin residents are angry much of the time, and the reasons for our anger are no secret.
They are: anything to do with cars if you are a cyclist; anything to do cyclists if you are a car driver; traffic lights whatever your transport; parking, parking, parking, parking and the stadium.
It is not surprising all of these things are controlled in one way or another by the Dunedin City Council.
The council makes us giddy with rage.
Below is a quick guide to tapping into the zeitgeist of the indignant.
Angry cycling
There is something deeply irritating about bicycles.
You always get a slight crunching noise in the gears, no matter how much you fiddle with the change mechanism.
Also, your trouser leg gets caught in the chain.
But those irritants help, a little, to develop the sense of justifiable outrage one needs to experience true Dunedin anger.
Begin your angry cycling journey at the corner of Stuart St by the railway station.
Cycling south there means being stopped by a red light with a delay of seconds on your trip.
Then you scarcely get your foot on to the pedals, and your bicycle under way, when you see cars; hundreds of cars piloted by mindless fools with not a thought for the environment, never mind a vulnerable cyclist who does care.
Ride back towards town on the cycleway on Crawford St, and watch exasperated as cars hurtle by on either side in a most discourteous way.
Observe the brutal undercurrent of rage, and the deep sense of internally combustible entitlement in their eyes.
Boil inside.
Angry driving
Drive a car.
Drive down George St.
Get stuck behind three cars at a traffic light, and feel aggrieved.
The lights turn green and you thump the gear stick into first, then second, and have a clear run at the next set of lights because you are desperate to get somewhere quickly in a trip that might take up to seven minutes.
Get stuck behind a cyclist who slows things to a crawl.
Purse your lips, slump back in your seat, make a slow, furious whistling sound between your teeth and ask out loud: ''what are they doing here, and not on their own cycle lanes?''.
Consider the fact the council builds cycle lanes and cyclists don't use them.
Claim loudly most cyclists are either hippies or exercise freaks.
They flout the rules, ride on the footpath, don't stop for traffic lights, don't wear helmets, and wobble.
They moan about petrol use, yet their clothes or something (maybe it's their bicycles, or their lunch boxes) are made out of petrol, or at least petroleum-based products.
You read that on the internet.
Infuriating.
Angry parking
Try to park on George St, right outside the shop you want to visit.
Find there is no park and go round the block, and fail to find a park again.
Park on a bus stop, and see a parking officer arriving on a scooter.
Become furious when they write you a ticket, and use phrases such as ''revenue gathering''.
Being angry at the stadium
All angry roads lead to Forsyth Barr Stadium.
Drive through the recently switched-on Anzac Ave lights, and become mildly annoyed at how long they took to start operating.
Tap angrily on your steering wheel as you wait long seconds for the green light.
Drive to the Wilson Parking pay and display park at the stadium.
Read the display that says there is a credit card fee of 60c. Look at the sign that explains in detail the words 'claim', 'damage', 'outstanding debt', 'vehicle', 'we', 'us', 'you', and 'your vehicle'.
Stay for a few minutes longer then you paid for, and get a $65 fine.
Look towards the stadium, and think about women and children staggering up the Northern Motorway in rags, crushed by massive council debt, and forced from the city by huge rates.
Remember talk of lines in the sand and intergenerational debt, and let a tear of fury slide down your face.
Blame any troubles in your life on the stadium, and, by dint of close association, the council.
Compare your misery to that of those in the Third World, and develop an argument it is worse. Welcome to our city.
