Final thoughts on Leg 1: Installment 2

australia

Going out for a night on the town in Surfurs Paradise was a giant fail. I have changed the names of the parties evolved in this tale to protect the innocent and the guilty. Mostly to protect the guilty……

NOTE: Proceed with caution, this post is for adults only.

I am going to start by stating the lesson I learned for this night out, and it was an important one and a good one to learn at the beginning of one’s travels. Not every one has the same idea of a fun out, and the better you know someone, the easier it is to ascertain whether you  have the same idea of fun…..this is a tale of things I do not find fun.

To begin the evening, I was encouraged to wear something short and dressy. I can fit everything I own into a backpack. Folks who know me (the girl who shaved her head) probably isn’t going to chose to lug stilettos, make-up, skirts, or anything of that sort in the limited space she has available in her bag (am I talking about myself in the third person again, sorry). So what could I do, turn the women’s “cloths” bag-o-girly stuff as mentioned in earlier posts. I found a compromise. What I thought was a nice jean dress, a bit short so I put running tights under it, and wore a pair of boots that I did bring (one of three pairs of shoes- tennies, flops, and these half boots from Wal-Mart, I thought I could just ditch um half way through the trip if I never wore them). I thought I looked great. NOT SO according to everyone on the bus. 

Apparently, drinking and driving is strictly enforced in Australia, with road blocks and random breathalyzers and the hole lot, so folks take the bus. This is good, I like public transport. Well, this bus to Surfers Paradise is like nothing you have EVER scene. My “none romantic date” and I paid the fare, sat down in the back, and that is when the bizarre began. At the next stop four lads entered the bus and in the proceeding 40 minutes I saw things I had never scene in my life. It became apparent that all drink heavily before entering the bus because it is a 45 minute ride to the clubs (this brings up another point, grandma-me, doesn’t like to stay up late, and I thought it was a 10 min. ride to town, not so), and who wants to sober up on the bus. 

As a side not, I am not the most pious, righteous, prude, whatever you want to call it, person on the block, however, I AM PRACTICAL, and riding that late at night and getting hammered for a bus ride, and a bumpy one I might add, does not seem practical or fun. I have had my nights of debauchery but they usually start and end early. I knew the night was on the wrong foot already.

Back the lads. First one informed me it was his 21st and asked if I would give him a kiss. I am sure you can imagine some of the things I said to him. For which he pulled his pants down (he was wearing tighty-whities) and pulled the sides into his but crack like “thong” unders, and danced around begging me for a kiss. One had to laugh. 

The next set challenged each other to fit a dollar coin up the others nose, because what is more fun than sticking objects up ones nose? At this point one realized his coin was stuck and panicked.  The other dug it out and all was well. Then one block got a dollar shoved in each nostril. I am sure the look on my face indicated that I was impressed, because the lad kept looking at me and saying, “can you believe this” and ” this is really impressive isn’t it”. I was in fact astonished that this was actually occurring. The cup de gauss was when they alternately tried to “snot rocket” the coins from their noses into each others mouths, and snot def rocketed out, but to the coin no avail. They actually ate each others snot. I have been to Ambsterdam, I have scene somethings before, but nothing compares to eating another souls snot. 

Well these gentleman let me know that I would be under dressed for the clubs and I politely let them know how much their opinions mattered to me and where they could stick them. And I snidely commented “sometimes actions speak louder than dress when it comes to snot fellows”. You see, when it comes to intoxicated Assie blokes putting them in their place is the only option. 

To sum up the rest of the night, me and my “not-so-romantic-companion” met up with a young lady who was dressed more appropriately than I, or should I say more inappropriately, and thus more appropriately. And as soon as we entered the car I new I should have gotten right back on the bus……so two hours later, after running around town with these two misfits looking for HARD DRUGS, not alcohol, weed, or even mushrooms, when we crossed the bridge and were near the bus stop again, I promptly asked them to drop me off, and I had a nice 45 min. bus ride home, alone, for which I did not have correct change and the driver took pity on me in my painfully under dressed jean dress. 

When I got home, I had a laugh and vowed to embrace what I think is fun; picking up seashells, exploring botanical gardens, the occasional glass of wine (I can’t drink beer anymore, Kandace convinced me I am a cilliac…. I do feel healthier without wheat), taking picture, intelligent conversation, cooking meals with lots of veggies, reading, every so often a really gory horror movie. Yes for now I will save my dancing and singing for the living room and shower. On a positive note, I no longer think it is rude to exit a situation you are uncomfortable in just because you are with a host. Sometimes your host’s idea of fun is ridiculous. After all it isn’t about morals or ethics for me. It is about practicality and if I have to ride a bus 45 min each way, drinks are going to be expensive, and there isn’t going to be any intelligent conversation, that just doesn’t seem practical. Plus late nights mean less photos the next day and we can’t have that.

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