Travel hits and misses: Rhys Mitchell

Rhys Mitchell.
Rhys Mitchell.

Hit

Imagine a beautiful alligator infested swamp . . . seriously, imagine a place where one fall into the reeds means you're something's meal. Place one crazy environmentalist guide flashing pics of him astride a 'gator and one decidedly paranoid adventurer - me. Florida's Everglades are thrilling and primitive and fecund and were a massive hit. Obviously, I didn't fall in as we slid along the surface of the water watching gaudy birds take flight and alligators drifting menacingly towards us. It was awe inspiring.

Miss

It wasn't Meatloaf beckoning to us - I mean, as if; we were two innocents in a bar in Palm Springs. He was more Sausage Roll or Meat-head up close, especially once he started blurting out rock 'n' roll songs after claiming to be 'the real deal'. When we decided to leave the bar, he stuck like sauce on a blanket. We were the blanket. Arriving at a karaoke bar, he announced to the crowd our imminent marriage and then belted out Cold as Ice. The throng's expressions of horror mirrored our own. As he searched for another song, we made our escape.

Rhys Mitchell is the director of Max Gimblett: An Original Mind showing at the Documentary Edge International Film Festival from until May 21 in Wellington, and May 24-June 5 in Auckland.

- Herald on Sunday

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