Travel etiquette for Kiwi bludgers

Don't overstay your welcome as a guest in someone else's home. Photo / Supplied

Having just dropped another Kiwi houseguest to Los Angeles International Airport and screeched away from the curb with a moan of relief, I thought it time to write an etiquette advice column for Kiwi Bludgers - you know who you are - the ones with notebooks full of international addresses and wallets snapped in closed position.

In the 10 years my wife and I have lived in LA (I won't give our exact location or the bludgers will track us like heat-seeking missiles) we have probably had 100 people come to stay.

I'd have bought a pitbull and security camera but my wife is a pushover. She sees every inbound Air New Zealand 747 as filled with guests to nurture; I see conniving, tightfisted Wallys seeking beds.

Before I give some general advice I'll tell you what our bludgers have done in past years.

One couple told us three months in advance they'd be flying into LAX, gave us flight numbers with the presumption we would be there to greet them, and then we heard no more.

The day of the stated arrival we had a dinner party to go to and as the Kiwis could not cough up $10 to make a phone call confirming their plans, I said, "Stuff 'em. I'm not driving to the airport on the off-chance they show. Let's party!"

When we got home at 1am there was a note on our door from a neighbour: "Your New Zealand friends arrived. They are spending the night with us."

Well, I guess it beats forking out for a hotel ... but knocking on the door of a strange house at night and moving in, bags and all? God bless Americans!

Another guy came and stayed two weeks, with my wife ferrying him back and forth on the freeway to business appointments. He liked his booze and made impressive inroads through our cocktail cabinet, vacuumed out the refrigerator and, when we took him out for his last night to a Mexican restaurant, heroically assured me he would pay "half the bill".

Considering he drank three margaritas, half the bill was his anyway. My wife doesn't notice these things but I know exactly how much he had saved on hotels and food in the past 14 days. He was some schmuck.

Another bludger trick is they like seeing the inside of an American supermarket but when you're in the check-out line getting some food for their visit, they conveniently head to the restroom.

Bludgers sometimes (not always) arrive with a gift - a bag of Minties or a jar of Vegemite - which is held aloft like a velvet Tiffany's pouch - "look what we brought for you!"

Problem is, after 10 years in the States Vegemite smells like a morgue on the janitor's day off and Minties wreck havoc with our newly straightened and whitened American teeth. But gee ... thanks ... I guess.

Duty-free perfume for the wife would be nice or an All Blacks' shirt for the kids. Oh wait ... those cost more than $10 and the object of this visit is to save money, right?

I once had an email from a nervous mother, "my 18-year-old son is travelling through Los Angeles. Would you look after him?"

Look after him? You mean like check him for athlete's foot, make sure his fly is zipped or put him up?

I thought I'd call him at the YMCA and steer him towards some underage pubs but my wife said, "We'll let him stay."

The "kid", who resembled an overfed All Black prop, lay on my couch for three days watching MTV and when I suggested on day four he might want to move on to some friends in Seattle, he said he'd prefer another few days on my couch.

I hoisted him up by his shirt neck and drove him to the nearest train station. The kid was a Master Bludger.

Oh and how about the friends of friends? My wife's old boss has access to the New York Stock Exchange and lo and behold, she had a call from a Kiwi girlfriend, "we have some friends visiting New York, do you think your friend would give them a tour of the stock exchange?"

Seeing as this guy charges out at US$200 an hour, let's hope he got a jar of Vegemite.

Anyway, in brief, we are Kiwis, we love Kiwis, but we have lives to live as well and we do know when we are being used. Correction: I do; my wife doesn't have a clue.

Here is how an ideal houseguest should behave:

Give an arrival date and, more importantly, a departure date. It's unbelievable how many Kiwis call with an entry date to your home and no exit date at all.

Never stay more than three nights. Never. Not ever.

Offer to get a shuttle bus from the airport. I might pick you up but I resent the presumption that I will drive an hour there and an hour back, consuming half a tank of gas that I will not be recompensed for.

Get a rental car. In America only unemployed, heavily armed people use public transport, so hire a car and leave the house every day so your host can drink to excess in private.

Never begin a sentence with: "I have a friend coming to LA."

Open your bleeping wallet. Yes, we know everything costs twice as much in the US, but we have a family to feed too, so by the time we have driven you around, cooked your meals, taken you out to eat, you've saved about $500 and we are down $150 on gas and food. Take us out to dinner, order a Chateau Lafite and when the bill comes, don't duck out for a smoke.

In a nutshell: It's always nice to see you, mate, just pay your own bloody way, 72 hours is your limit, get yourself a set of wheels ... and thanks for the Vegemite.