The Mysterious Anti-Denmark Crusader (mertle) wrote,
The Mysterious Anti-Denmark Crusader

You mean competitor? Whatever!

By popular demand (one person), my trip to Melbourne has been chronicled!

Day 1 - Tuesday
With my taxi coming at 3:30, I of course decided to leave everything until about 2:00, which resulted in a mad "Oh fuck, my shit's not dry yet!" rush at 3:15. Procrastination wins again, my friends. And I couldn't even bank on the taxi rocking up at least 15 minutes late like usual, Chris - my short-shorts wearing driver was there waiting with a big smile right on half-past. What a guy. He was really nice, and pleasant smelling (a rarity in the world of cabbies, I'm sure you're aware), but he did go on a huge rant about the death of the North Perth/Mt. Lawley shortcut, with the addition of speedbumbs to all the roads leading from Fitzgerald-William streets, and the blocking of right turns when you come to Walcott. I really wished I could relate to the guy and share his pain, but as a perpetual pedestrian, it really doesn't affect my everyday life in the slightest. In fact, the removal of the "cars turning right suddenly and running me over" risk is quite beneficial to me. Sorry Chris, you're on your own here champ.

The airport experience as rather dull and eventless, and I spent my time in the check-in queue watching this fat Greek man force himself onto a small, jittery lady with Tourette's which caused her to scrunch her entire face up into a pained grimace every few seconds. He kept trying to invite her over for dinner with his wife and kids next time she was in town, and going on and on about how smart and brilliant his fucking kids were cause they got "Mostly B's and a few A's!" on their primary school report cards. Fuck dude, you definitely have a couple of future MENSA members on your hands there. You may as well retire from your market garden job right now and sit back and wait for the money to start rolling in, cause those two genii are destined for greatness.

The flight passed without incident, I had no-one next to me and I was free to sit back and do my crosswords in peace, stopping only to buy overpriced cashews and water. And then we reached Avalon... Look, I know it's a safe haven for mutants set up in the cold void of space by Magneto, but fuck, the Antarctic-style temperature which greeted me as I stepped off the plane was a bit much. Oh, remember the fat Greek man from earlier? Yeah, he was even more put out by the chilliness than even I. This souvlaki-guzzling fuck started pacing up and down the shuttle bus demanding that one of us give him a spare blanket or jumper because his wife is a bit cold upstairs. Fuck you, tell the fat lazy-eyed ethnic behemoth you have as a wife to go for a fucking run and warm herself up. Failing that, she could just gnaw on the leg of one of your chubby little olive-skinned quantum-physicists-in-the-making for sustenance.

Finally I reached Melbourne. Sweet, sweet, urine-soaked Melbourne. By this stage it was well after midnight, and all public transport seemed to have stopped, so I took a chance and decided t owalk from Spencer St. to my hostel up the north end of Elizabeth St. It was far, far less dicey than I had expected, hey. While I was approached/confronted by 4 or 5 seperate groups of young, shifty-looking men, they were all overly friendly and just wanted to give me a drunken "Hey, what's up!?!" or quiz me about my origins. Not a single one asked me for a ciggie, asked me "what I was lookin' at, cunt?" or shoulder-rammed me for no reason.

And yeah, I got to my hostel, rang the mobile number provided and was let upstairs where a bed in a big, empty room awaited me. I wasn't tired at all, but seeing as how I didn't yet have a key, I couldn't actually leave, so I decided I'd try to get some sleep.

Day 2 - Wednesday
I woke up pretty early, chucked on my clothes and wandered downstairs to the reception desk (conveniently located inside an Asian supermarket!) where I hoped to obtain a key to the room I had slept in the night before. Bah-bow. I was immediately moved from spacious, empty room 108 to cramped, dank room 106, where three other dudes currently resided. A quick rundown of the guys in question:

Mike, in the bunk below me - In his mid-late 30's, fat ranga, had a job in some sort of computer company, was staying in the hostel while waiting to get a new apartment.
Chris, in the other bottom bunk - Probably around my age, scrawny dude who didn't talk much at all. Worked at Rod Laver every night dismantling the Kylie concert shit, listened to some awful metalcore when alone.
Geoff, in the top bunk across from me - Ahhh, Geoff. Early 30's, again a ranga, this time overly hairy. Originally from the western suburbs of Sydney, he had moved to Melbourne to escpae from the criminal lifestyle. Was living in the hostel until he moved to Perth later on in the month.

Yeah, the entire place reeked of old sneakers, sweaty men, stale farts and mothballs. On the plus-side, it did have tasteful suns-and-moons manchester. How chic!

Because I was pretty much wasting time until Saturday morning, and knowing that spending any more time in tha troom than absolutely necessary would kill me, I embarked on the first of many many random day-long meanders through the streets of Melbourne. I stopped by Starbucks, got a coffee and attempted to read the paper (Until some fat Aryan bitch stole it. Fuck, I should have known earlier!), then pissed off up the street a little to Missing Link where I wasted an hour or two, coming out with only 3 CDs this time around. Not that there wasn't a fuckload more stuff I wanted, I had just decided to limit myself. +7 Self Control Ability!

The first of many gardens was hit up - Alexandra! (lulz) But I only paused there briefly, choosing instead to soldier onwards to the Botanical Gardens. They're rather nice, I must say. And plenty... botanical, I'm sure. You can tell, they have little plaques labelling the genus/species of every single plant contained within them. Forced learning in tranquil settings, a scourge on society the likes of which will never be rivalled. After reading a streetpress of some sort, laughing at Matt for missing his bus, emailing Jessie in Hong Kongand watching a bunch of European tourists have a mock-karate battle, I decided to continue on my random journey. Yeah, somehow I ended up in fucking Richmond. I have no idea how. And I didn't think it was possible, but the place looks much dingier during daylight hours than at night.

I think I spent the majority of the afternoon/evening in Fitzroy. Details are hazy, but pizza from Bimbo Deluxe was consumed at the recommendation of Senor Giles (also the girl in TNK). Then I returned to the city, did a couple of laps of The Circuit(tm), maybe hit up the internet cafe for a little while, then etired to my horrible, horrible room for a night of restless, uncomfortable sleep.

Days 3 and 4 - Thursday/Friday
Look, not much happened here. I did a fuckload of random wandering of the city, visited Carlton and Flagstaff Gardens, read my book the Ethiopian Famine that I bought for $3 from a second hand bookshop, got enchiladas from Richmond, at some Indian food from some place on La Trobe or A'Beckett St, got a haircut in Fitzroy, drank a lot of water and coffee, hid in the internet cafe when bored and...



Oh, came into contact with tranchcoat wearing, Star-Trek-esque headset rocking, Nazi general-style walking, rockmelon eating Middle Eastern Man. This guy was both scary and fascinating, in equal parts. I'd really like to document his life, hey. Where did he come from? Why is he here? Why is he always pacing the rec-room of the hostel in a creepy manner? These questions will plague mankind for eons.

Day 5 - Saturday!
I woke up super early, paced around for a while, then made my way to Melbourne Central Station, from which I caught to train to Glenferrie where I met Jessie. Awesomeness ensued! She took me past SWiN-BUR-NE, the ungodly uni/TAFE hybrid which utterly blew my mind to the Rocket Park, a park which houses... a rocket. Sadly not an actual, functioning NASA rocket like I had hoped, but a large rocket-shaped piece of climbing/play equipment in which suss things may or may not have happened in the past, allegedly. Gross. I am shaking my head at all involved parties in disgust right now. And just to the side of said rocket was a large patch of completely out-of-place jungle-esque vegetation. What the fucking hell is that doing in a suburban park? Well, as we were t olater find out, it's actually a byproduct of the hellmouth contained in the ground below. And not only does it turn any plant which dares grow there into a thorny, gnarly, corpse-smlling Amazonian death-vine, it'll also convert any placid, upper-middle class white kids who dare venture near it into screaming, rabid, blood-thirsty imps from the deepest pits of Hades. We received genuine threats on our lives from a 8 year old red-haired girl. No really. Her exact words were "STOP KISSING OR I'LL KILL YOU!". And fuck, I believed her. I'm still expecting her to be waiting for me on my doorstep with a machete when I come home from work one night.

After some icecream and sitting in a different, dirt-filled park located on Elfin Grove or Warlock Crescent or some other fruity Tolkien-themed street, it was on the Camberwell where yes, I got my bum waxed. And fuck, is it ever smooth! All are free to come and stroke it, no appointment necessary. A rendezvous in Alexandra Gardens followed, where we witnessed the most baffling sight of all - a random, pantsless girl jumping out from a bush. I've called up The Extraordinary to see if they can shed some light on the matter, but Warwick Moss is apparently too busy plugging Scotchguard on Bright Ideas to return my calls. Sellout.

Sidenote: When Jessie came up to my room to borrow a jumper, Geoff rolled over, stared creepily and then muttered "She's a bit of alright!". We both did our best to ignore it, and get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. Later on he came up to me and told me she was "a good looking young lady", "a keeper" and "I'd done well for myself". I nervously thanked him, then went back to my book, hoping he'd disappear back from whence he came. No dice, sadly.

Day 6 - Sunday

Yep, that's the basic gist of that day. The funtimes were abundant, and most of the animals were in fine form. "Fuck you!"s are owing to the following though:

- The Badger
- The Red Panda
- That fucking unavoidable birdhouse, especially that one huge creepy heron thing
- The Satanist Goth Monkeys
- Slyly placed Edutainment
- Fat Aryan mothers. The harsh parenting methods employed by Asian mothers have never seemed to have so much merit. Don't try to pin the fact you can't control your peanutbutter-covered, piss-smelling, walking STDs on us, you haggard, dimple-arsed wench.

Jessie went off to see Kylie that night, so I hit up the circuit in a big way. Oh, and that night around 3am, Geoff came into our room drunk and started yelling "GUYS! GUYS! I'M GOIN' TO CANADA! I'M IN LOOOOOOVVVVEE WITH A CANADIAN GIRL I JUST MET AT THE PUB! FUCK PERTH, I'M OFF TO CANADA! GUYS! GUYS???"

Days 7 and 8 - Monday/Tuesday
I got up on Monday, showered, packed my shit up (noticing a couple of stray Picture magazines strewn across our floor as I did) and checked out of the Hostel of Terror. I made it out lice-free, holy fuck!

While I know aceness was afoot, the exact details of the next two days aren't entirely clear, but I know we called Tom (who did a lovely rendition of a Method Man verse for us, bless him), P. (who just seemed angry) and Ramon (who didn't answer/was busy. Boo-urns!), Savoys were determined to be superior to Jatz and we went to get a takeaway pizza from the Pizza Hut on Elizabeth St, and a fat bitchwas so distressed that the buffet was closed for the night that she declared that "This is boolshyiiitttt!". And something about a baby koala? I should really lay off the solvent inhalation, it's really affecting my short-term memory.

I left on Tuesday evening, thus ending what was easily the best trip ever. I flew via Adelaide, and I'm going to just chuck this out there - Adelaide is completely fucked, hey. If someone was to test a WMD of some sort on that city, I'm sure very few would mind. I got back to Perth, and remembered exactly why I hate this place and all of its inhabitants so very much, a select few aside, immediately.

So yeah, that was my trip in ridiculous detail. If you read that all, you're either a) Retarded or b) Suffering from insomnia. Either way, you're probably not the type of person I'd chose to associate with.

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