Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I have written a bit about the first Cairns trip for Phil and I. I think I made it to my hotel room, then the Lagoon. That was all on Friday arvo. Time to strike through the rest of the trip...
Friday night....The Courthouse.
Dave, John, Megs, and I head out to meet some of Meg's friends at a restaurant/pub (Rattle 'N Hum). Beer #1, nice. #2 & #3 just as good. We order up food and the peppered fish takes like 45 minutes. Everybody had already gotten their food and are 3/4 of the way through it. We were each given one of those little remote vibrators. I go up to see if they actually had to go out back and cast a rod for mine, and they say they tried to buzz me when it was ready a half an hour ago. "No, I had this thing in my hand, and it never went off". She tries it again, and NOTHING! The sumbitch was broken. "Oops, I guess it doesn't work, here's your food". Grumble, curse, walk back to table. Food done, and drink done. The pub has a novelty toilet, where the urinal trough is against a 2-way mirror. From the urinal, you can see out, but the folks outside in the dining area cannot see in. The fun thing is if you now someone has walked in there, point at an area midway up the mirror and giggle.
We all "posse up" and head to the Courthouse. At this juncture, Nina and Siska have joined the group, as well as some others of the Japanese JCU group. It's kind of a somber weekend for the fellas, especially John, because Meagan is due to go back to Japan on Sunday. She had been living with John and his wife/daughter for the last year while studying English at JCU in Cairns. So it's time for the big send-off, as the graduation ceremony had been earlier in the day. There's one thing I notice about that particular evening in the Courthouse....tons of Japanese/international students. I'm not sure if that may be their usual haunt, but this evening, Dave, John, Nina, and myself were the minority as anglos. Meagan's friends from the program were living it up in grand fashion, going after the tequila, Jaegar, whatever the barkeep would poor into a shot glass. I was sitting there nursing my beer, just shaking my head, knowing they would pay for it later (sometimes age does = wisdom, especially when it somes to boozing it up and hitting the shots). The brew was being quite kind to me, and I have a suspicion that the air was extremely dry, as my beer was evaporating from the bottle! I think Phil may have been sneaking a few drinks as well, because I would notice a numb feeling in my hand...cheeky little bastard....I told you I had to watch him!
So the evening is wearing on, and I get to see the brotherly "love" rear it's ugly head, as a bit of a spat breaks out between big brother John and little brother Dave. There is an interesting dynamic there, as John has a family, a house, and is a solicitor (like a lawyer, but I'm not sure how it is different). Dave is more unsettled, and travels at will. He has a car and some stuff, but when he's off of site, he is transient. I would think it would be a refreshing lifestyle sometimes, but annoying at other times when you just want to head to the pad and chill for the 6 days. The specifics are unimportant about the squabble, but I was not sure if I was going to have to hose them down like children, or separate them to neutral corners. So now it's time to head to the hotel and get some rest for a big Saturday in the rain forest.
Saturday morning is chill. Plenty of sun, and a brekkie at the hotel. Very refreshing to wake up to a seaside view from the balcony. We get on the road at about 11am to head to the hills South of Cairns to try and find some waterfalls. We drive for 45 minutes or so and go into a national park. Our masterful navigator, Dave, has no idea where the turn-off is to go to his "sweet spot". We weave around and end up near a camp site that John has stayed at before. Checklist....river (check), sun (check). Looks like a good place to stop for a swim!
L-R: Megs, Dave, John, Nina, und mir
So this is the group...early in the day....before the long-arse hike uphill to try and find a waterfall.
After a nice little swim in testicle-ascending cold water, we all decide to hike up to the camp site. The road was blocked due to supposed residual damage from cyclone Larry that ripped through about 6 months earlier and devastated the banana crop (bananas went from $2-$3/kg to $10/kg). I stopped eating bananas. The plants are recovering well, to note, and looking healthy as of the most recent trip through Innsbrook (banana central).
Megs is all full of energy and starts running up the hill, unaware that we would walk about 5 kms before giving up and turning back. She had been crook earlier, almost hurling on the ride to the park. She bounced back beautifully, but the malaise would return after a 5k uphill hike. Youth is wasted on the young I tell you.
We walk and gawk at the wilderness for probably an hour. Then we all make the executive decision to turn back, as we do not hear water, and we're still going uphill. Along the trip, there were a few flora and fauna lessons and arguments between Dave and John. The jury is still out as to whether "trash wood" is the scientific name for the trees we were walking past. I think not.
Once we get back to the bottom of the hill, we have another swim. The water is I believe colder this time, but felt good on the sunburn that I had picked up on my arms and shoulders. There was one deep spot in the river, directly under the bridge (how convenient for the igmos that like to jump off of things). Dave is first up...he doesn't die. Then John. Then Megs.
I have a particular aversion to jumping off of things into the water, so I opt out. I'd rather not jack my legs into my spleen, nor have to go through a testicular extraction procedure once my sack is slammed into my sphincter! Time to head back to town.
John is hosting a get together for Meg's friends as she is due to ship out the next morning. For the next few hours, people pop in and out, and drink beer and socialize. I tried my damndest to fit in, but I was clearly an outsider and was just looming on the edge of conversations...I was "that guy". I did meet a particularly interesting fellow, Victor, from Peru. Apparently in Peru, cocaine (coca) costs about $800 per kilo (that's between $200K and $600K street value in Oz depending on how many times it's cut). Maybe Mr Escobar was in the right racket...too bad he was a loon later in his career! Victor would contribute more to the evening later. We tried to put some bootleg Indonesian DVD's on to play, but they were mostly crap quality. I guess that's what you get for AUD$1.30. Team America ("fu*k yeah") was the first. It was shithouse quality, and kept hanging up. It did include the scheister sex scene, though. Dave and I were teaching Nina how to flip bottle caps, and after she had somewhat mastered the craft, we had a bit of a competition to knock over beer cans. She beat me. I was humiliated (not really), and so the game was over before I could wager anything for the winner! So it's time to get ready to go out. I was excited to finally check out Gilligan's, as I had heard alot about it. "Gilligan's is the place" was commonly heard with regards to a trip to Cairns. The crew gets around, and it is Megs, John, Dave, Victor, a friend of Dave/John, Jared, and me. Lets see, that makes 6....someone has to ride in the boot (trunk)! We head to Victor's with Dave in the boot. 5 mins for Vic to get ready, and we head to my hotel. 5 mins for me, as I shed my boardies and T, take a Right Guard shower, spray on some sweet smelling whore spray (Hugo Boss), and don my Levi's 527's, Superman T-shirt, and Rossi's. Slap goo in hair and head out the door...6 minutes flat (record). Guess who the odd man is? Fleetwood in the boot! Comfy and roomy, although the left turns are a bit rude. We get downtown and head in. Gilligan's it is.
Gilligan's Island....Is it a bird, is it a plane, No, its........
It's late by this point, about midnight. We walk in, and you can tell we're on the downslide side of a ripper of an evening. First up, head to bar to order a heap of beers (more than I can carry, but hopefully John is back before they get here). Victor is AWOL right away. Dave and Jared have left take his car to his place, which is not far away, and ride a taxi back. I order my beers, and some tall English bird starts shaking a maracca in my face. Drunk, cheeky, "hello". Blah blah gribble gribble (incoherent). "Right.....oh look, my beer is here, sorry". So now I at this point I'm wishing I had gotten the dominant gene and been born with 6 fingers (5 fingers per hand is a recessive gene...remember that one for the next time you're watching Jeopardy), as I have to carry 5 draft beers without plunging my fingers in and giving them the old glassy bulk pickup. Somehow I get them all secured with a maneuver that allows me to carry 6 baseballs in 2 hands when needed. About that time, Dave and Jared arrive. Time to have a good look around. All shapes and sizes. We play "pick the nationality", as the place is swarming with backpackers. German, Canadian, Pom, Pom, Pom, Irish, Canadian, Aussie. Not that we confirmed many of the predictions, but if we were disagreeing, Dave would stroll up and have a chat. He's good at that. We stay there for a couple of hours, and decide to go to the seedy nightclub upstairs. Can't carry your drinks up, so we skoll our beers in line, and apparently there's a dress code to get upstairs. Muscled up, small penised bouncers are guarding the stairwell, acting as the "pretty police" to regulate the flow upstairs. Dave and Megs through. John through. Victor....um there's a problem. Apparently Victor had "relations" with the bouncer's girlfriend...and he knew! Sorry, Victor, you can't go up. I'm asserting the only authority I have in this world....no club for you! And guess who is the next in line...with a Superman T-shirt on? VETO! No entry for Fleetwood. Now I have never been kept out of an exclusive area before. I have just been discriminated against by a softcock doorman. He says it's because I have a T-shirt on. I see other T-shirts waltz up the stairs. Am I one of the "undesirables"? Am I too old, is it the ever-progressingly high hairline? Mmmmmph. It's Victor's fault. He shouldn't have thrown the root to this bloke's missus. Oh well, it probably sucks up there anyway (sour grapes).
The rest of the evening is not all that eventful. I do see another guy in a Superman T-shirt...it's not the same as mine. His is black and silver millennium Superman...mine is vintage blue with the Marvel comics old school "S" in red and yellow. He sees me and says, "He's the shit, huh?" Ummmm yeah. I don't feel bad, because this cat looks hip, not one of the comic book geeks. I start wondering if there are any other comic logos that are as internationally known, as quite a few people were calling me Superman as I walked past. I wanted to believe is was because of my barrel chest, superhero good looks, and red underwear (that they could not see, only me because of my X-ray vision). One poor sap was wearing a batman T-shirt...how 1998! The place starts clearing out slowly, and it goes from happenin' spot to graveyard by about 2am. Time to mosey. Phil and myself are a bit intoxicated, and the pizza/botulism vendor outside the bar is calling my name. $5 slice of warm cardboard...yummmm.
We get back to the hotel (Phil and I), and he is trashed. I'm not sober. Poor phil is tuckered out and full-on cactus. He passes out as I get ready for bed....bad move, Phil! There's a rule that I live by. If you pass out, you will be abused. Given, he's only a little bloke, and shouldn't be able to handle his alcohol, but passing out is bad form. What can I do?
"You gotta pay for those good times" (Thos D. Fleetwood)
Now Phil, I want you to know this is going to hurt you more than me, but it's a lesson that must be learned. I'm not shaving your eyebrows off, or scrawling graffiti on your face. It's just a lesson.
passed out Phil
Agua!....Splash!
Phil's pissed!
He's not very big, but he poked the shit out of me...even left a couple of bruises. He threatened not to point for me anymore, or to take care of any itches. Also, he was going to go on "writing strike". I threatened to pick my nose and scratch my arse more....he settled down!
That's about my trip to Cairns. I wanted to do a skydive, but got around too late and missed out. In the future it'll happen.
Until next time, kiddies!
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