The Bro Blacks in Vegas - billed as the biggest haka and the biggest night ever in Bay Rugby and we all brought into it big time.
The town was buzzing, we were all buzzing on the Bro Blacks - as was Aotearoa, like a Saturday night party with 10 new guitars, they came from miles around to see their 15 stars play.
Even the children from the mist played their part by adding a shroud of mysticism to the Rotorua International Stadium.
It was all on for the legions of Lions fans as it was for the rest of the 28,177 hearty Kiwis who showed up, sat down, some in dry seats but many not so much - and waited.
And waited some more ... until first half turned into second half - and still the game was about as exciting as a cold, uncooked hangi.
So what did happen? Bugger all really, when it came to world class end-to-end try scoring running rugby.
The stones were hot, the kai was fresh and the puku was growling for a feed of ripe rugby.
In a pipi shell, for my two bobs' worth of boring entertainment, someone in whero-coloured jerseys poured cold water on the hot hangi in Vegas, and at the end of the day, besides it being night time, we were served up a boring feed of footy.
Nothing to do with Te Arawa or the fine folk of Rotorua. They turned it on brighter than their namesake in Nevada, but everything to do with winning at all costs by the Lions.
The price paid for this bump and bash up the guts style of rugby up and down the land of the long white try line, by turning off so many fans, will be invoiced to the bottom line of the NZRU, if they don't wake up to the wants of the crowds - and not the touring teams like the Lions.
There was so much expectation of the Bro Blacks in Vegas. It could have been and should have been a once-in-a-lifetime, or at least 12-years, experience.
My mate and I were amped up driving over, especially after feasting on a club rugby entrée earlier in the afternoon, where Rangataua and Te Puna duked it out for a full 80 minutes with a dazzling display of running rugby.
It cost us a pretty penny to go to two matches, as has their goal kicker half penny, and all we got back up in Auckland at the Blues match and now next door in Vegas was four-fifths of a cold hangi.
Yeah I know I don't like being a Ngati Hoha and whinging away like a Pom but, hey, let's wake up and smell the boil up, it's our national treasure we are talking about here.
If that was all we could muster up with the generations of past players in our genes then we had skirts on Saturday night and the celtic kilts of the opposition made us look like Sheilas.
What I do know is I won't be heading across the Kaimai on Tuesday night for a third crack at convincing myself it's going to be a memorable match.
Uh uh - kao kao, its tele time for the rest of this tour and holding the folding for a Super 14 final, or better still, a Rangataua/Te Puna rematch as a final.
Bring on the Burling Bro from Tauranga Moana and his Team NZ waka warriors, and let us soak up the talents of a sporting team who know how to front up to a front row of tough-talking wahanui.
While we crouch and hold to watch Team NZ, what do we do about our national game?
Not to look like a waka with a wahanui at the helm and an oracle coming out of every orifice, this is not about adding a penalty try before the game even starts.
This is about a fresh breath of wind to ensure the excitement and thrill of the game that glues this country together gives us the excitement factor to stay tuned to the tele or stay inside the stadium for the full 80 minutes.
Thus far, the bump and grind game of rugby is anything but lion hearted. It's pussycat rugby played by beef heads who need to come and play a few seasons for Te Puna or Rangataua.
We need to take a good look at rugby's entertainment value.
Try time is the name of the game for me so why not look at rewarding the reason we go to watch big-ticket test matches.
If a try is scored starting within you own half it's a seven from heaven and if ten or more hands touch the ball to score a try it's a perfect ten.
And, for the kicker for the team that kicks their way to a boring victory, there's a hand brake clause. If you score more than five penalties, you have to then score a try, or the next penalty only counts for a single point.
That should sort the Sheilas out and keep the crowds coming back to Vegas.