Man, what a fucking day. I’m still sore. Limping, burnt and lightly peeling. It all started last week. Levi and I decided to catch up to do some stuff for our brainchild, when we thought our time would be better put to use wandering from hotel to hotel, testing the various pools of temperate water hidden within. Let me start at the start. I’ve heard it works wonders for crafting a story of epic absurdity.
Friday. Daybreak. Moderate heat and a satchel slung over the shoulder. It was a fine summers day to head into town and do some stuff, and do some stuff I did. It started with a walk to the bus stop. Early morning, cool breeze and the wind tickled my leg hair (for you perverts, it felt good), I was excited and prepared for a day of whatever the world threw at me.
The walk was uneventful at best, but the bus ride in was another story, part of this story actually. Anywizzle, I was waiting at the stop, listening to Triple J and congratulating myself for being super when the bus pulled in. I ambled to my feet and dawdled over to the kerb to wait for the doors to open, but something smelt funny. Like the sparks from a grinder. Mildly acrid and metallic mixed in a delicate mix to offend the senses. Already I knew this 2 hour trip would become a clusterfuck of disastrous proportions. Bring it on, I said.
The doors open with a mechanised whoosh of air and a pretty chick with double lip rings jumps down and says, I think there’s something wrong with the bus, it’s full of smoke. We chatted about how a bus is no place for smoke and she meandered down the road to go about her business. While she was lucky enough to get off the bus as the trouble was starting, it was my burden to bear as the heat rose and the intensity of flies became intolerable. If you must know anything about me, I hate small annoyances. Flies, heat, sand, people. The usual for a social butterfly like myself.
25 sweltering minutes elapse while my pores breathe out beads of moisture to combat the elements and her inhabitants. 25 minutes of harsh Australian brutality. Finally the new bus pulls in and the doors open. The driver waves away my shrapnel and tells me, This one’s on the hizzle homie, word up on that, yo diggit? I had no idea what he was saying, so I smiled and responded with, my man. This seemed to satisfy the coach head and we peeled off onto the highway, speeding like a demon to make up for lost time. If the heat didn’t kill me, this guy would. This was news I welcomed with a chuckle and a roll of the shoulders, fucking come at me bro. I’m ready.
An hour rushes as countless streets and cars flash by in a blurry haze of adrenaline and fear. School holidays are kicking in, kids are everywhere and they were damn lucky they didn’t find their way under 16 wheels of fury and steel. Finally the traffic lights marking the run into town start making an appearance and my stop was rapidly approaching. I hit the button and old mate G’star pulls over and flings the door open. Stumbling down the isle, I return his nod as I pass and lumber onto the street below. Thank fuck that shit’s over.
Pulling out my piece of shit Lumia, I send Levi a message. A confirmation of safe arrival and a willingness to risk the rest of the day. I walk down the road to the new Woolworths building at the plaza and I’m blown away. It’s huge. I remember the old one they spent 2 years fixing up and reinvigorating, it was a shit trap. Old, decrepit and an eyesore. This new one, a tribute to modern craftsmanship to say the least. I liked it. I walked in, and wandered around until I found the Iced Coffee. Jesus what a selection. What was I to do?
Dare, Masters, Brown’s. The three leaders in the Iced Coffee trade and they throw great deals in with exceptional quality on a regular basis. Late comers to the game like ‘Barista Brothers’ taste like blended balloons and horse piss, and with such winning qualities, it wasn’t even worthy of a glance. I decided on Brown’s Double Strength Iced Coffee. 750ml. Strong and a smoky aftertaste. Sure to make me yearn for more libations as the milk content fails to meet hydration needs, yet the flavour beckons and begs for you to take ‘just a little more’.
After settling for my IC, I mosey to the check out and am greeted my $8 in the change dispenser, I alert an attendee of the bonus found at my station and he thanks me for my honesty and being ‘Just so fucking super’, then proceeds to wish me a great day. I tell him it can only get better and make my way back Into the blistering heat. I flick Levi a message and a few minutes later he’s walking over the road and we head back to his place to get started.
Soon enough, we head into town, go to the small business centre and make some enquiries. I get some answers and a number to call at my convenience, which I haven’t called yet, then we head for a walk through town. People everywhere. Kids yelling, people shopping, trolleys clanking and filling the void of silence between audible conversations of patrons in cafes. We stop in the shade and come up with a plan.
Initially we were going to go to the beach, but salty water and sand aren’t my favourite combination so we decide to visit different locations and go for a swim until they ask if we are guests at the ‘otel, and then we would make a daring escape, possibly wearing jetpacks while lasers shoot at us. Levi being the genius that he is, decided to wear jeans until this point, at which we had to return so the princess can get her fucking floaties and put shorts on. Now he was ready, our adventure could begin.
We started behind the library in town, from there we walked to Centerpoint for a leisurely stroll through Target. The air con was blasting, the tiles were shining, and good summer spirits hung about. Not much to catch our attention so we decided to head over to Koombana Bay for a swim. Remembering my disdain for sand and insect life, we decided to go to the caravan park adjacent to the beach and trespass in the pool area and take a dip.
Not much happening here (fuck, this is a story huh?), so we take a stroll back to town and head up to The Mantra. Solidly secure and not inviting to unwanted guests, we find the pool needing a guest key to unlock, so we bail and head to The Lighthouse Beach Resort. We go in through the back, bypass reception and make ourselves at home in the blue and white tiled pool. There’s a huge decline and you can slide down it on your tippy-toes and then you have to do a panicked kick to stay afloat as the sudden lack of floor sends a surge of panic through your bladder, causing you to wee in the pool. A warm patch in a sea of cold. Delightful.
Behind the pool was a bubbly spa. Jesus on a stick! A bubble spa, patiently waiting for me to slip onto the foamy goodness. It was warm, of fair depth and powerful jets. I pulled up in a corner and let Levi know that if anyone wanted to ask us questions, they would have to schedule an audience with The Bubble King, as I donned a magnificent beard of bubble. As the time passed and the novelty wore off, we yet again called it a day for that location and ventured forth into the wild green yonder to visit The Lord Forest Hotel.
Talk about ‘A shit Rolled in Sprinkles’, this place is certainly one. Once the proud palace for folks to recover after a night on a visited town, it has fallen to disarray and still has the same look as 15 years ago. When a venue fails to upkeep its aesthetic appeal, it doesn’t leave much to draw in new clientele. The pool however, was still as fresh as when we used to do this as kids. Had a good float, declared myself ‘Not even a Guest!’, and left for the final destination.
The Motel on Forrest Ave. A brick paradise nestled just outside the bustle of the main bit of town. Red iron bars with spiked tops made the wandering villager reconsider the jump from brick to pool, and the guest key access made it impossible to get through the gate. Defeated by our final goal, yet happy with how the day went, we called it one ourselves and headed back to Levi’s place.
I’m still sore. It’s slowly fading but age requires basic healing to take just a little longer. Countless steps were climber and I ended up with a great singlet tan. Its pretty impressive. I’m signing off. That was one hell of a tale. Take care folks.