February 27th, 2011
8:45 a.m. NSW
7:45 a.m. QLD
I am not a snob.
A piece of overripe fruit just fell from a tree and splattered on my leg, from which I also occasionally flick a renegade ant. I am sitting on a filthy bench at a bus stop, having a $1 cappuccino from 7-11 and feeling triumphant because a moment ago, I won a battle of wills with a seagull—over my apple walnut scroll. That fucker got pretty close, but I held my ground.
I’m wearing yesterday’s denim skirt and white tank—and bikini bottoms. I think I have been spending a lot of–possibly too much–time in the sun. At least that crater in my foot is no longer packed with sand.
THE NIGHT BEFORE:
I walked through the car park towards the right side of the car. Kevin sat in the seat on the left. I hesitated at the rear quarter panel: I was not driving. One point three seconds later, Kevin’s door swung open and he said, “That was bound to happen at some point.” 1. Chinese fire drill. 2. Dinner plan.
Coopers Sparkling Ale might be my current Ozzie favorite. I had my first sip after meeting Cory and Chris, and before discussing degrees of logo stickiness with Pat and Dane. Something in the oven smelled phenomenal and the red label helped to drown my hunger.
I need to figure out how not to bring my board to Cairns. The novelty of traveling avec surfboard has worn off. I won’t surf in Cairns, anyway. Shea said, “Ask a local.” Hey, doesn’t Shea sometimes write “Ask A Local?”
Finally, sushie… there’s no e on the end of that… at O-Sushi with Kev, Frankie, Michel, and Friend (I’m sorry, Friend, I forgot your name) then the Coolangatta Sands.
Nine stories in the air, 5:30 in the morning, I found myself waiting for the comp call. I drowsily picked up the April issue of Surfing and read Travis’s letter, then THETDWS. This is already the second issue I’ve missed since leaving the country–the first featured Ferg. Blast!
9:something a.m. NSW
The contest is off.
There’s a duplicate Pacific Highway/Route 1 on the East Coast of Australia. It is a vertically mirrored and horizontally flipped version of the one in the U.S. There are fewer Daily Grinds on the one in the southern hemi—and more kangaroo crossing signs.
$6.80 for a one-way bus ticket from Tweed Heads to Pottsville? The opposite of rad. Thank Someone that I won $23 at the Oriental Treasures slot machine last night, and that the only other bus passenger is a 45-year-old guy cranking Usher’s “Oh My Gosh.”
I am not a snob.