Land Down Under

I Promised A Story....

And I can't break a promise, so here I'm sitting, in pajamas, at 11AM, eating "breakfast" (read: Ferrero Rocher chocolates from my birthday and a half-flat can of Diet Coke I opened last night for dinner...yes, I'm a college student), and recounting the night Mel and I went to the Northcourt Social Club to watch her friend Petey play in his band.


Mel and I drove over to Libby's house, where Sade and Sam and she were putting makeup on and straightening their hair. We ordered two large pizzas filled with every kind of topping imaginable (Aussie, veggie, Hawaiian, and chicken), and devoured the entire thing in about 5 minutes flat when it arrived. Then the five of us piled in Mel's car and drove around long enough to find the Social Club, and we arrived just in time for it to start raining. I must interject that Melbourne rain isn't real rain. It's constipated rain. I guess it comes from being in a drought, but this rain is barely a Williamstown-drizzle, and all it's good for is making you very cold and have frizzball hair. Anyway, we walked in, handed the lady our tickets, got a monkey stamped on our wrists so we could wander the band room and the rest of the pub if we so desire, and went in and got drinks. The opening band was really good, and so were The Fakes. While they were playing, Mel, Petey's mom, and I were standing near the bar talking, and this random drunk older man was standing behind us. I thought it was strange that every time we'd move a few feet up the bar, he'd follow. Then, all of a sudden I saw out of the corner of my eye his pointer finger move slowly toward Mel's lower back. I grabbed her arm and pulled her forward so he wouldn't touch her, and the three of us sort of exchanged this-is-scary glances. We kept talking, but kept a sharper eye on this creepy guy, and sure enough he reached out and touched Mel again. She turned around and firmly but politely asked him to stop and move away (a reasonable request), and he began cursing at us, saying we were all filth, rubbish, other stronger names, and told us all to F-off. The three of us moved to the opposite side of the bar because he was clearly not moving, and sure enough, within five minutes he was standing in front of us again. He started talking again, and to make a long story short, Mel and I went to the bartender and asked him to get the bouncer to escort Mr. Drunk out. While we were talking to the barman, the old man tried to get away into the crowd, but he ended up coming back just as the bouncer came into the room, and luckily the bouncer pulled him aside and walked him out the door without a fuss. Don't get me wrong, the entire night minus these 15 minutes was really fun, but it was definitely a scary experience. Lesson learned: always have someone's large boyfriend hanging out with the group so we're not the only ones in a group of just girls.

posted by Christina @ 11:09 AM