the plankmeister's interweblet

Monday, April 1, 2002

Byron Bay : Australia

Today was Active Day. Got up. Finished my book (Disappointing ending). Didn't play volleyball in the pool. Checked the surf. The surf was good. So, with this in mind, Richard and I hired some surfboards and went surfing. Actually, that's bollocks. We didn't go surfing at all. We hired two surfboards, then took them out into the ocean and paddled around on them in surf that was completely different to the surf I espied much earlier. And got chewed up and spat out occasionally. Big huge bastard-great waves with attitude problems. These were not kind and gentle waves. If these waves were human, they'd be up for attempted murder. The first wave we attempted to "surf" was pretty interesting. Imagine a behemoth tidal wave (well... ok... imagine a gnarly 2 metre wave) and then imagine two very small people on surfboards getting absolutely smashed to smithereens as said wave crashes on them with such intensity that they are dismembered. (Ok... slight exaggeration but you get the picture) Bollocks to that. Then I find myself running along the beach and back with Richard. I'm thinking... what the fuck am I doing running along the beach? Why am I doing this? This is a two kilometre run. I've not run anywhere for years, if ever. (Though I am reminded of a haunting statement from years ago... I run everywhere!) But this kind of running... this running there and back for no apparent reason other than to run is something that's never happened before. But it feels good. I'm running and it feels good. The first half is quite hard, but the second half - after I've wamred up and I've accepted the fact that I'm running - is easy. I'm fitter than I thought! When I set off I never thought I'd get even halfway! Bargain! Then Richard, Dan and I went to Subway (Sorry Rich and Jackii) for a feed. Then went back to the hostel and watched TV for a while. Then went to the "all you can eat" barbecue. (As I sit typing this, I'm farting horrendously. As in... people-sitting-next-to-me-get-up-and-leave horrendously. And I've noticed I only ever fart horrendously while in this particular internet cafe. Most odd) And then the alcohol came. Lots of it. We sat having a laugh with the two Kathies and Nora and clapped occasionally at the man singing songs with his guitar (He's very good). Got talking to two Aussie girls, Jo and Anne. (Jo Anne! Ha! Joanne! I bet you've never heard that before! we said. They had) It's Canadian Kathy and Nora's last night tonight becuase they leave tomorrow. Emails are exchanged (oh arse... but no books. Sorry Kathy...) and hugs are had. Then a most surprising thing happened. Aliens came and conducted an anal investigation! No... just joking. As I was saying bye to Nora her parting words were "Plank, you're a funny, handsome guy!" And I'm like... Handsome? Sorry... You have me confused with someone else... But she means it. Hey... Everybody... I'm handsome. And I've been told I'm cute too! (But that was by a lapdancer I was paying lots of money to, so that doesn't count) If people keep telling me things like this I might even get an ego! So, with me reeling like a stunned mullet from Nora's casual comment, Kathy and Nora descend the stairs and are gone. The two Aussie girls are going to Cocomanga's, so Richard, Stuart and I tag along. On the way, we find a shopping trolley and insert Jo into it, (sporting a rather fetching traffic cone atop her head) and push and spin and make her dizzy pretty much all the way to Coco's. Luckily, we arrive split seconds before our get in free flyers become nothing more than pieces of useless paper. Phew! Inside, things go crazy!!! There are huge holes in my memory of what happened, but this is an appoximation:Stuart does the dark horse thing almost immediately, and is chatting to some stunnnig girl and then actually has a threesome with her and her friend right there on the table. (Well... ok. So that didn't happen, but he's such a dark horse I wouldn't even blink if it did) Dancing. Lots of dancing happened. And lots of drinking, too. Richard and I were stood at the edge of the dancefloor (Stuart was probably away in some dark corner with some ex-supermodel doing the dark horse thing) and a girl comes straight up to Rich, hands all over him. I can't hear what's being said (She's whispering into his ear. The fecker!) But I vaguely remember her as being the girl I left him dancing with the other night. She's Swedish, and lets just say she's definitely not ugly. In fact, about as far away from ugly as you can get. And she's got Richard by the hand and is dragging him onto the dancefloor. And this is something I don't understand... He stands there. Feet glued to the floor. Not moving. With her tugging at his hand to go dance. She relents and merges into the crowd on the dancefloor. Y'feckineedjit! You could be hanging out of her later! I enthuse. Richard non-committally waves a hand in a she-wasn't-that-special kind of gesture and says something I'm too dumbstruck to hear. More dancing. More drinking. The Aussie girls, who've been elusive all night, say they're going to another bar. Strange, I think, all the bars are shut... More drinking, more dancing. (It's 70's retro night so all the funkadelic tunes are on) Richard goes to buy a round, and takes for-fucking-ever. After several days pass, I spy him at the bar chatting to another girl. I think he's been taking lessons from Stuart. Inviting myself into their conversation, it emerges that he is indeed chatting her up. She's Swedish too, but she smokes so instantly she's an ugly hog (To me, anyway). Doesn't seem to bother Richard though, and he's in like Flynn. Then it happens again. She goes to dance, and he stays put. I'm like... Focker!!! Get on the dancefloor!!! Stalk her!!! so he goes. And five minutes later he's back. Ahhh... she started talking to some other guy so I couldn't be bothered with her anymore, He says. Then something happened with Tequilla. (But not the Tequilla Stuntman. This is something stupid uni students do. Snort the salt, down the shot, squirt the lemon in your eye. Snorting the Tequilla is optional. Why would you do this?) And then it goes blank. From the moment the nth Tequilla settled in, I have absolutely no fucking idea what happened. I'm pretty sure it would have involved more drinking, more dancing and a pie shop, but there's just no way of knowing.