The Naaa Naaaa Naaa sound woke me up. It wasn't the quite peep peep that gently rocks you awake but the harsh version that reminds you that you've have failed to respond to the first minute of hints. Like most mornings I wake up and think where the hell am I meant to be. This morning my head seems to be a little bit more sluggish than usual. That right . I was drinking red wine last night. My mate closed a big deal and we all went to a restaurant after the usual pub session at the Palace. I'm sure I didn't eat enough. Pub ? Today must be Saturday. Shit I'm meant to be at the airport.
Every now and then , on a whim I decide my life is to boring, jump on the net and have a fare booking frenzy. Some times it rebounds on me. I don't really need to be going to Adelaide. I've got a cat delivery run to Newcastle next weekend, 50th in noosa the week after, and a mountain of dirty washing that's been there so long its evolving into it's own life form. But I'm off to Adelaide. It;s almost an oxymoron. I'm bored so I'm going to Adelaide, reputedly the most boring place in Australia. I don't know so I decided to check it out. On a Whim. Quick shower to feel a bit more human. Feed dogs, cat, look for drivers license and Q club card, I'm sure it was here last time. Backpack, things I think I need. Car. Go.
Long term parking at Melbourne airport. The most expensive bit of paddock in the world. Forty nine dollars to leave your car here for 24.00000124.000001 hours. I hate Maquarie Bank. I even hated them when I owned shares in them. Now I just hate them when I come to the Car Park at the Airport. Airfare Thirty five bucks, car park, your first born.
Quick coffee,board, pull out the book. I'm surrounded by a rock band. The all have access tags hanging off their bags for some music festival or something. Keith Moon would have been drinking vodka and snorting coke off the hostie while having wild sex in the loo ( which I'm beside). These guys sleep the entire fight. What has happened to the youth of today. I'm on Qantas so I get an ANZAC biscuit with a use by date of 2047 and a crap coffee. They should hand out little hammers so I can try to eat the biscuit, but then again I'm sure they wouldn't allow them through security. No telling what a rock band could do with a couple of those things if they ever woke up. The books good , Killing time in Iraq by Colby Buzzell, maybe just the thing I need to burn of the hangover, and prepare me for a bit of action.
My friend meets me at the airport. Where straight off to the members at the races. I have my decent pair of pants and shoes on, that are normally reserved for weddings and funerals. Her bloke has a horse in the first at 10.45. It's 10.10 so he's left and we catch a cab. I feel right at home. The driver dosent speak English and he has no idea where the race track is. There is a GPS on the dash but it may as well be a rock as" look it up on the gps" produces a blank stare. We find ANZAC highway them drive straight past the entrance to the course, have to do an Illegal u turn, then mount the curb to get back to the stand.Who says I don't support boat people. We catch up with Charlottes friend in the mounting yard. Kissnfire looks like a good beast, and it,s number 4, so I head off to the bookies to part with the rest of the $50 leftover from the cab fare, while they head of to the members. It's it's first run' a Maiden handicap. I get 4 to 1. In the members there is a group of blokes with Barry who are hardened punters, where almost the only group here. It's 10.45, I'm on my second schooner and there about to jump. Kissnfire runs just behind the leader and pulls clear of the rest till the turn, when the jockey throws it into reverse and it finishes last by a length. Time for another beer. We punt on the next couple of races till I've lost another $50. Closest I came to a win was a horse that through it's jockey before the start of the race and got out through the front of the gate before the start . Twenty minutes after the finish they post the results. No Scratchings. Because my horse left through the front of the barrier it was a starter. I lose another tener. Not that I care, by this time I'm on my sixth schooner.
Charlotte and I head off to Glenelg on the tram for a late lunch after a walk on the pier to clear our heads. Chicken KEV, and a red followed by a chilli hot chocolate. Back to town for a wander and to try for some tickets for a show. The cabaret festival is on. We are trying to get tickets to a burlesque show, but the place has a show on already so we cant go in . We leave our number a head back to drop off my bag. We call the venue, it's sold out. They call us we have a table. Barry rocks up, his luck improved after we left and he's made a small profit on the punting so we head off for cocktails. The shows great, lots of good looking girls with not much on singing and dancing to themes from Bond movies. There an amateur troupe almost like a club, there is only one guy, a effeminate asian bloke, who does the last number. He gets down to his jocks and looks very happy to see us. At the end of his number the hand goes down the jocks and he pulls out a large pistol in line with the James Bond Theme. The girls go wild, the guys not so much. By this time where pretty much cocktailed out so we head home. Barry bumps into some old mates so it's in to the pub for another couple of beers. I end up talking to a 87 year old bomber pilot who is one of the guys father. He tells us the story of flying into Hamburg after the war and getting told off by one of the germans after he took the wrong turn on the runway. "Haven't you been here before" says the Kraut. Only once says the pilot but it was dark and I didn't land. I'm trashed bed time.
Next morning we wander down the street for breaky. Thank God I'm with a local. Nothing is open and there is no one around. We find a place and have a great breakfast with the lot. We then wander down to the Hilton to get a cab for me to go to the airport. A band is playing for the Carbon tax rally in Vic square, the music blaring for blocks in every direction. I think they've dropped the neutron bomb there is no one else around apart from the lowest forms of life. Cockroaches, Mueso's, Taxi drivers, and ME.
Gate 50. It seems like a big number. I wander to the end of the terminal(gate 26), downstairs, then out onto the tarmac. Shit Qantas still have things with fans on them. The flights nearly empty, just me and a couple of sleeping mueso's. I pull out "Killing Time" and wait for the biscuit.
Posted by bondrj
at 1:02 AM NZT
Updated: Saturday, 5 April 2014 10:32 PM NZT