Teenagers filled with testosterone and tequila were splayed across our television screens during the second half of the holiday period.
They were scenes I thought were from a bulletin being broadcast from Ferguson, Missouri or Eastern Ukraine. They were, however, the bloodied camping grounds of Gisborne.
I considered myself lucky when I woke from my own New Year's haze some 580km away on January 1 and read the headlines, having decided not to venture to Poverty Bay for the BW Summer Festival.
Three of my mates and I had converged on a similar, but in retrospect somewhat less explosive, music festival in New Zealand's sub-tropical far north. Northern Bass, just outside the town of Mangawhai, brought together local and international artists and thousands of revellers for two days of New Years celebrations.
Initially I was disappointed the festival was classed as a licensed premise, thinking I would be forced to pay top dollar for cheap liquor, and a tad cynical about the full body search I endured upon entry.