Saturday Night - Bikies and Randoms on Guitars
I haven’t done a drunken story post in a while now. I guess it’s because I haven’t had anything terribly exciting happen lately. Each night often just seems like any other.
** NOTE: VERY LONG POST, GRAB A TEA OR COFFEE! WORTH THE READ **
Although a few weekends ago, it was a little bit different.
I got into town just after 9, and met up with a good friend of mine at a chinese restaurant. We had some nice food, stared/waved at some jailbait in a bright green lowered Hilux, then cruised along Gouger street looking for the start to the rest of our night. After seeing the amount of talent migrating towards Escobar we considered it was an option… but the 3-4 cop cars all over the road out the front lights flashing and all deterred us rather quickly.
Our friend is a bouncer at Garage, so we decided we’d go there. It had been about a year since I last went to Garage where I actually kissed my high school crush… before she went to Europe for 8 mon… 12 mo… 18 months. No wait… 19 months now. Another story.
We retired to the beer garden, and found a comfy corner to enjoy some rum on ice and cigars. I pulled out a cigar I had been given for my birthday that was just massive. It went down smoothly for a little over two hours… my mate looked on in amazement as he finished his two smaller cigars whilst I kept going.
Every now and then our bouncer friend would pass by, and my friend would pop up out of the corner to say a few words and come back. I was in an ultra relaxed state. Nothing could bother me. I watched some buff wog looking dude pick up the cigar tubes and check them out. He opened them up and looked over them. My mind already preparing for the question about the cigars… which was quickly replaced with my own question, “Why have you got my phone!?” as he picked my phone up off the table not 6 inches away from me. I looked over to my bouncer friend, who had just been warning my friend that the venue now had roughly 30 or so bikies. Not your stereo-typical bikies, but younger wog-like bikies who are all tough-nut psycho’s.
So as I protested calmly, asking Tyson to get my phone back for me… it was already too late. This buff dude’s big friend suddenly went nuts at me, screaming at me, “Don’t you talk to him like that!!” - I think it was a predetermined response for my expected outburst which I never actually delivered. Not the smartest guys. I got a little confused because I hadn’t said anything rude when suddenly I copped a fist to the right side of my mouth. Fortunately for me, whatever was in the cigar mixed rum, I was still ultra calm and adrenaline never kicked in. I asked for my phone back again, and to be honest it was all a bit of a blur but I somehow got it back. My friend came over and said, “We gotta get you outta here…” after seeing a look on a ‘more innocent’ random bikies face which said that just. One of them said to my bouncer friend “Get him the fuck outta here or we’re gonna fucking kill him.”
I stood up and moved around the table, got a few steps out, and went back to put my cigar out, which I had finally finished. As I put it out, I copped another fist to the left side of my head just in front of my ear. I fell down onto the seat from the hit. I calmly got back up again and walked away, with my friend and bouncer friend escorting me quickly.
That was the first of many attacks in the club that night. My bouncer friend later said that his night consisted of finding the victims quickly, and pulling them out of there. Much to their protests that they were attacked and only defending… but little did they know that they would’ve been outnumbered greatly by psychotic, violent bikies who do it for kicks.
Looking back, I was very fortunate that I am not a violent person, and I was ultra relaxed, because the Bikie dude was struggling for any excuse to have a crack at me. Why I was the first target? Not sure. Maybe their girls were looking at me? Maybe I thought I was too cool and needed to be put in my place? Maybe just attack the pretty boy in leather with a cigar in the corner who is now alone… a rather soft option, especially when you consider that I was for that moment, alone, and there were six of them standing in front of me. When even one would’ve sufficed, I can’t fight for shit. I normally talk my way out of problems, most people are rational in some way. These guys really weren’t.
We wandered down to a nearby pub so I could find a mirror and clean up a bit. Luckily, the bouncer was standing on my right side, and was unable to see the blood on the left side of my head where the bikies rings cut me. I actually didn’t even know I was bleeding until I found a mirror and saw blood all down the side of my head. I washed it away, cleaned up my lip, and went back out craving a beer.
Oddly enough I had a massive craving for a pint of Guinness. So we made a quick decision to walk to The Elephant… which is on the other side of the night strip in Adelaide. Not exactly a short walk, but we walked fairly briskly and talked shit and before we knew it we were only half a block away.
Next thing, some random jumps out in front of me and pushes me! Oh great… what is it tonight? Am I a fucking magnet for this shit? The dude starts yelling random abuse and I quickly realise that it’s the brother of one of my best mates… I’ve known the kid since he was like, 4 years old. I stand up to him and throw my arms around in a type of hug, everyone else still thinks a fights about to start as I start screaming and waving my arms around until people have worked out that we know each other and are just mucking around. We chatted for a bit before moving on and eventually making it to our destination. My mate’s brother yells out that he’s heading to PJs and we should follow. We say that we may consider it… but any locals of Adelaide will know what PJs is like. Often full of older men looking to stare at younger women. Because of this, very few young attractive women head to PJs… that, and all the music is old school rock. I happen to like old school rock, but most young attractive women also prefer R’n'B or Dance.
Anyhow… we head into The Elephant, which hasn’t really changed since the last time I was there… probably over a year ago. Just fewer people. Young uni types it appeared, so I felt a little old, and a little too dressy for the place. However, a pint of Guinness was in order, and I did just that. Whilst enjoying the dark nectar that is supposedly full of vitamins and good for me, I get a message from aforementioned brother of friend. “Come to PJs!”, so I send back asking if there’s any talent. Standard question for deciding whether to change venue or not. I quickly get a response, “yeah man, everywhere.”
I finished my pint and we headed to PJs. The bouncer didn’t bother to check our IDs and we walked straight in… and aside from bumping into brother of friend, who was even drunker and chatting to some girl who really wouldn’t stop traffic, and then goes on to tell us that he “doesn’t know her from a bar of soap,”… we walked straight back out again. PJs was exactly as I remembered it… except even worse I did forget that PJs can sometimes start out good, but the night quickly deteriorates as the few girls who are there get sick of the old men cracking onto them and leave.
By this time, it’s about 2:45 am. We make our way up to The Stag. This pub was an old favourite for quite a while, but due to a recent break up with one of their promotional employees, I have been avoiding it. Knowing she doesn’t work this late on a Saturday we try to head in. The bouncer stops us and tells us that it’s lockout after 2:30 am, no new patrons can enter.
But I just want a quiet beer! Fucks sake.
My mate and I decide to get some food. Hungry Jacks is the obvious choice for anyone walking Rundle Street. As we enter, our attention is quickly diverted to a young group sitting around a table, one bloke has a guitar, and they are singing classic Rock songs. My ears quickly sensed the first few chords of ‘Holy Grail‘ by Hunters & Collectors, and I’m quick to join the random group of people in Hungry Jacks loudly and badly singing. For those that don’t know (that would be almost any non-Australian), the ‘Holy Grail’ is a rock anthem known by almost all Australians, and is a favourite for many sportsmen, especially those that play AFL. It unites fellow Aussie blokes, as we all join arm over arm singing away. Classic to the fact that the song wasn’t actually playing, the parts of the song which aren’t so well-known the volume dies down momentarily until everyone knows the words again.
I have never seen anything like it. It was a fantastic way to end a rather shitty night. My mate and I got our burgers, sat down nearby and appreciated all the classic songs the group sang loudly and terribly. What was amazing, and restored my faith in good people, most the people in the restaurant were singing along and actually getting into the music. Even the security guard was bobbing along, it made me smile.
After filling our stomachs, we decided that home was the option and joined the line just outside of Hungry Jacks for a taxi. Slowly the taxis came and we moved up in the line. A rather tall attractive young woman who I had noticed earlier in HJs joined the line. My mate and I had been commenting on her earlier, and with just one look at each other held an entire conversation without words.
I notice that she has Band-Aids on the back of her ankle… “New shoes?” I ask. She looks at me for half a moment and ignores me. I turn away shrugging to my mate and have a laugh. Some minutes and bitching about lack of taxi’s and excess of cold wind I turn back to her.
“Which way are you heading?” Thinking that we may be able to split the fare of a cab ride. Because I live just off one of the main roads out of the city, I often find people heading the same direction, and save myself money.
“I don’t know,” she replies not even looking at me. I turn to my mate, point to my split lip, “This isn’t a cut, it’s an ice-burn, that was ice-cold,” at which point my mate found the comment hilarious and we share a laugh.
Soon enough a taxi arrives, as we’re about to get in, the attractive young woman who had spent the entire time ignoring us asks if she can take the cab… “What? You’re kidding right?” After completely ignoring me when I was just trying to be friendly you expect me to give up my turn for a taxi? Pfft!! Hardly. “Aw, you’re so mean, I hate you.”
“Well, that’s the way it is then,” I tell her as I climb into the cab. My mate and I have a laugh and a conversation about what had just happened. Seriously though, if she had talked to us, even flirted slightly, we’d have given up the taxi. No worries. Gallantry is only worth it if there’s going to be a good reception. But some girls just don’t deserve a nice gesture. All it would’ve taken is small talk in the taxi line.
An interesting night, ups and many downs. But the group who happily sang away to people they’d never met, arm in arm with someone who just walked in, they made my night. All the shit from earlier was gone and replaced by this sense of joy and laughter from a young group of randoms singing whilst I ate my burger.
