The Best of Times, The worst of times.

It was 11PM on Saturday and I was the happiest and most content I had been in a really long time. Yet it was only four hours earlier that I literally found myself in my own personal hell.




The following takes place between 9pm Friday and 1pm Sunday.



Friday 9PM: I venture to this girl Kristen's house for dinner on her roof. She lives in Kings Cross- Think Times Square but a little seedier and one of the more popular night life areas of Sydney. Her roof gives you a view of the entire city in every direction. Its one of the cooler views Ive seen and can be rivaled only by the view of the 84th st Loews theater from my apartment at 450 West End.

Friday 11PM: I go to meet some friends of mine at a place called Dragon Fly in Kings Cross. I am warned: "This might not be your scene."

Friday 11:30 PM: I enter what can only be described as a discotechque. It's completely Euroed out. We are meeting this little Asian girl from Italy who took "experimentaion" to new heights. If asian girls are your cup of tea, then this one would have really suited you.

I looked around for a minute or two and realized one undeniable truth...

I was completely sober.

This was place was beyond bizarre. Of all things I don't get in life, techno music might top the list. Dudes dancing around to this music like it is some form of zen. They hopped and skipped around. Everyone looked like the french guy from the movie Swimming Pool. And there I was. Generic Jon from New York City. I realized I had a few options.

1. Drink half a bottle of whiskey, get creepy and join the fun.

2. Sip beers from the side and observe.

3. Leave the bar.

At first I figured option 1 was my best bet. When in Sydney do what the really weird Euros do?

That was until I found out that shots were $14.

I started to "sip beers." I watched the action with some of my friends and was particulary dazzled by two things:

1. The freakishly tall Travis Knight look alike who was so into this techno music that it was consuming him. His dance moves can only be described as awkward-suave.

2. The group of three eastern european women standing a few feet away wearing what appeared to be nightys who all looked like super models.


So after enjoying the freakishly tall guy do his thing for a little while I decided to go talk to the eastern europeans.

SLAM DUNK it seemed. This was too easy. It was going way too well. They were really friendly despite a significant language barrier. In my mind I had the most glorious visions of the night to come.

But it all came crashing down.

I realized after about 10 minutes of conversation that there was something a little off about these girls. In America there is the stereotype that girls like guys for their money. I got the sense that these girls were similar only different.

See they wanted my money, but they wanted lots of it and in return they would do bad things to me. The lovely russians were hookers...Salt.


1AM Friday: Time to leave. We depart from the discotechque for Scruffy Duffy's. You couldn't ask for a more opposite place.

It was the Jersey Shore in Sydney. The cover band rocked out to the killers. Meatheads and girls named Lisa sang along, marveled about Bruce Springstein and talked about how nice it was to grow up in Jersey. Not really buy you get the idea.

4AM Saturday: We leave the bar and return to Bondi. Good times.


10:30PM Saturday: I have a pretty bad headache. My room is too bright to go back to sleep.

2PM: After banging out a few episodes of Heroes I grab some lunch

3PM: I make my way down to the beach. Normally I'm not a big beach guy but Bondi Beach is great. The water is the perfect temperature and then when you get out, you lay down and it is perfect weather. Sometimes I'll fall asleep. Other times Ill just lay there and think about blogging.

But its about as relaxing as it gets.

The only comparison was this beach I went to in Costa Rica during my senior year of Spring Break. It was beautiful and empty. It would have been my #1 except I have this dark memory of this girl I was with surprising me with what turned out to be maybe the greatest arm I had ever seen on a lady. She fired that football at me like she was Brett Favre. And I wasn't ready for it. It knocked me right in the gut and completely took the wind out of me. Because of that, Bondi is #1. No bad memories.

4PM: I go this little outdoor gym they have right on the beach and get in a quick work out. I can do 11 pull ups now( definitely not going all the way down) and am gunning for 20. This is when I realize that I don't have keys.

4:10PM: I start walking home hoping that someone is there. But I wasn't worried. There is ALWAYS someone at the house so this wouldn't be a problem.

4:17PM: THERE IS NO ONE AT THE HOUSE.

4:18PM: FUCK

4:19PM: After knocking on all the doors and getting no response, I check each of the three doors to see if any might be open. They are not.

I go to the side of the house to see if any of the windows are open. They are not.

The exterior of the back of the house is all windows and I could see no one was there. No one except the dog, Loki.

I try to connect with Loki to somehow let me into the house. That doesn't work. Then I realize that the wet bathing suit I am wearing is starting to make things downstairs a little itchy. I am not happy.

4:30PM: I start walking around Bondi praying I will see one of my flatmates. I have to pee really badly and walk into a local bar.

4:31PM: Thats better. But still, hopeless. I decide to walk to the other end of the beach- about a 15 minute walk- to my friends house.

4:45PM: I arrive at the apartment. Joanna, one of the girls is getting ready to go to work. Todd is sitting there checking out the internet.

I explain my situation. They empathize. We then strategize.

CHECK MY EMAIL!

Maybe the person I was renting from had emailed me her cell phone #, I could call her from todd's phone and this could be solved.

I check my email. Nothing.

I begin to worry that my flatmates may have gone to their beach house and wouldnt return for the night. This really sucks.

I borrow some money and a sweatshirt

Todd tells me of a bbq he is going to go to later and I tell him I will meet him there.

5:07PM- I return to my home praying that someone will be there. No one home.

5:09PM: I try everything. I try to go Maguyver with a coke can and some plants. I try jedi mind tricks. I pull on the door as hard as I can.

5:12: I am defeated

5:13PM: I sit down in my backyard and just go blank. I am convinced that this will all work out. They will return any minute and all will be good.

6:00PM: They have not returned. By now its getting a little cold. I walk out to the main street hoping I will see someone. Surprise, surprise. I don't.

6:30PM: One last try with the Jedi mind tricks. They don't work. I do manage to get the dog to bark a lot when I start banging my head on the door.

I am completely helpless.

I decide to walk over to the barbeque. Why not? If worst came to worse I could stay on Todd's couch that night. It really wasn't that bad. This is just the type of shit that I stress over.

6:45 PM: I finally find the house. I walk in- flip flops, bathing suit, mesh jersey and zipper up hoodie thats about 3 sizes too small. I basically look like a hobo.

I walk to the door and see a couple of dudes standing there.

"Hi I'm here for Ali's bbq...I'm a friend of Todd's"

And that was when things turned.

As always, these were nicest people in the world. The two guys greeted me as though I were Eli Manning right after winning super bowl. They walked me into the party and introduced me to everyone. Couldnt have felt more welcome. I find my friend Todd and he introduces to the hostess, Ali.

Shocker.

A jewish girl from New York City who went to Horace Mann and Cornell and dominated the Jewish Name game unlike anything I had seen since the good old days back at UPenn. She was a real sweet heart.

There were about 15 people on the giant outdoor patio and at least 7 nationalities represented. And of course, 2 jews from the New York City private schools.

8:45 PM- Just having a blast. I've had a few beers and a few burgers. Talking, drinking and laughing with people from all over the world. As a bonus, there are three of the most beautiful English girls I have ever seen in my life at the party. They all had boyfriends (Bullocks) with them but it didn't matter. It restored my faith in Mother England.

Up until then, I HATED England. I got the worst food poisoning in my life in that hell hole. It was the worst 48 hours of my life. I got on an airplane back to Dublin (study abroad) that I was convinced was going to be taken by terrorists because I actually wanted to die.

Fuck England!

Until now. One looked like Victoria Beckham. Another looked like the Adult film star, Sylvia Saint. Don't really have a good comparison for the third. And they were all really cool, too.

Everyone at the party was for that matter. They wanted to know about American culture so I told them.

I got in the classic argument with this South African guy about American football vs. Rugby. And for the first time I felt like the argument was resolved.

They are just two different types of athletes.

Football is a game of short bursts. Rugby is a game of stamina. The helmet allows freakish athletes to be crazy in a way that no Rugby player could be, but few American football players could run as much rugby players do for 90 straight minutes.

Everything was great.

But still in the back of my mind was my house. I wanted to change. I wanted my cell phone. It's unbelievable how naked you feel without a cellphone. And I didnt even really have anyone to call.

9:30 PM- I tell the revelers that I am going to give it one final shot to get into my house. They wish me luck like its my wedding day. I would be back either way, but hopefully in some different clothes. They wish me well.

9:45PM- I arrive at my house. In my head I hear the Final Countdown by Europe, my cell phone ringer for much of my junior year of college. This was it. Gut check time. 24 minutes of good solid team defense.

9:46PM- VICTORY!

9:47PM- I get let into the house. My three flatmates deep into another random movie on the Sci-Fi channel. I had never been happier to see them. I explain to them of my journey, they have a laugh and remind me of the importance of bringing my keys with me when I leave the house. Simple but true.

10:03PM- I leave my house, showered up and dressed. Life is good. I walk back to the party, pick up some beer for everyone and am on my way.

10:20- I return to the party. People see my outfit change and get excited, much like Jon Gruden when he sees Charles Woodson make a play.

I feel like I'm at home, partying with my best friends in the world. I had known most of these people for about 3 hours.

11PM- A few beers later and a few conversations about different parts of the world, rap music, new york and baseball, and I find myself sitting on a really comfortable chair wearing a funky pair of sunglasses that I had borrowed from one of the british dudes. I sat there and kind of just observed the party.

The chair was incredibly comfortable, the weather just right, and I was perfectly drunk on Victoria Bitter beer (finally I have a favorite for the ever popular question: Whats your favorite beer?)

I hadn't felt this much at ease since I went to a University of Georgia football game about three years ago. It was the first week of the season, the day was beautiful, football was back. I had just had shoulder surgery and little girls named Katie offered me sweet tea and asked me if I was ok, in perfect southern accents. I was with a great group in a great atmosphere and I was just totally at peace with myself.

I was here again.

I looked around the room and around the globe. Everyone was having such a good time. Human interaction at its purest.

I probably looked ike Andy Dufrane (Tim Robbins) in Shashank Redemption when he sat on the roof and watched the other inmates drink the cold beers that he had earned for them, just totally content.


3AM- One of the best nights of my life had passed. I made great friends of total strangers all thanks to a party hosted by a girl who grew up on the other side of Manhattan.

The Montagues vs the Capulets is how I described the East Side/West Side Debate to the United Nations of party goers.

The night had come to an end.

I exchanged phone numbers and emails with about 5 or 6 people with the promise that this wouldnt be the last time we saw each other.

You meet a lot of people when you are travelling and often youll never see someone again in your life. Not this time.

11AM Sunday- I wake up to a text from one of the girls inviting me to join a group of them for "Breaky."

I was tired and wanted to go back to sleep. But I couldn't pass up my first ever invite to "breaky." (breakfast)

11:25 AM- I arrive at the cafe and see a group of 10 or so of the people from the night before. It was like I was walking into Blondies to meet the crew for Sunday football.

11:35 AM- DESTINY

Padders, one of the diners is discussing his favorite movies when out of nowhere, he brings up POINT BREAK.

We discuss the film (it is a film) for no less than 20 minutes. The South African tries to argue with me against Keanu Reeves' acting chops for which I get very heated. The irish girl tells me she has never seen the movie for which I am shocked. The english girl tells us of how when she was a kid people told her she looked like Anthony Keedis (a little resemblance) for which we all have a laugh.

11:50AM- I realize my mission is still not fulfilled. I eat some of the tastiest french toach I have ever eaten, drink this crazy fruit drink ordered for me by one of the Aussies and I feel like about $62 bucks - a big step up from an hour earlier.

12PM- I bid the table farewell, but not before we make plans for a screening of Point Break for later in the week. Homework before my trip to Bells beach.

1PM- I head to the beach to meet some people, keys in hand.


Vaya,
Jon





A couple of side notes that I thought would pass but didnt really fit the story.


1. A few regrets

-Havent taken enough pictures. Really wish I had the first lady out here to snap away as my own personal papparazzi. Salt.

-Really wish I had brought a draft day suit - the ones that you see players wearing at the nba or nfl draft. Im talking light blue with a cane. Its fun and you could pull it off here and chalk it up to being foreign.

-Wish I had done a few more day trips out here. Oh well.

2. Thursday I hit up another NBL game. It was the Sydney Kings vs the New Zealand something or others. This was my second game and I was anxious to find a player that I recognized (not easy). But then there he was, Kirk Penney, the former Wisconsin sharp shooter chucking three's from the corner much like I did for most of my childhood.

I started rooting for Kirk and the New Zealand squad but they got killed. Oh well.


3. Really fascinated by the slang they use out here. .

There are so many little different things that people out here say:

"How you going?" instead of "How's it going?"

It took me a while to get used to this one. How am I going? Im going to walk. I think?


They say "proper" instead of good. "It'll be a proper time."

There are about a million others.

4. Shaved my head the other day. Had to. It was getting too long and all they have out here is salons. Not spending $50 bucks to have some french guy tell me how he can make me look pretty.

Plus I hate cheating on Franco. Franco is my barber who Ive gone to since I was I was 3 years old. I take a 45 minute bus ride to see him every 6 weeks or so. I used to plan my trips home from college around seeing him. Ive known him longer than anyone in this world outside of my family and do everything in my power to not go to other barber shops. He cuts my hair, we talk baseball. It just works.


5. I've seen more bizarros(twins) out here of people back home. If you are interested in knowing if Ive seen yours, shoot me an email. Decent chance I have. I can lie if you want me to. But its amazing just walking down the beach and seeing an exact twin of say, Tim Sacks, a friend of mine from home. I saw him, only it wasnt just about an hour before I write this piece.

6. Outside of disco, the other thing I really dont get is women's footwear.

The new thing in australia are those sandal/shoes that look like they are straight from the Gladiator Era.

Is that the Spaniard? Nope, its Inga from Austria.

They just look so weird and dumb.






Tis all.