How much is your life worth? I guess I have never put a dollar figure on it, but I have been in situations when I have asked myself “am I prepared to pay the price?” I have asked myself that question big wave surfing on my clubby malabu board. So to just before clicking 5th gear with the throttle wide open on my old CR250 as I screamed into a forest track corner. You know if you pull it off you get to experience a feeling precious few ever will. I guess it’s more about weighing up risks against potential thrills, during my trip to the UK I got to ask myself that question again.
“The cab is probably downs stairs.” We were running late for our plane, situation normal for me. Liss hadn’t been fully exposed to my pre-flight faffing before now. Many a lap had been walked around my bag, and every room had to be checked and rechecked. I’m sure there is a name for my condition. The cab was waiting down stairs and we had less than an hour to catch our plane, with at least 30mins drive to the airport, it was going to be tight. To add to the complications, we had attempted to print out boarding passes at home. The printer wouldn’t print, so we had booked in, but had no boarding pass, not a good place to be when in a hurry. We get to the airport and sure enough it is a massive hassle that we don’t have the boarding passes. The guy that was there to “help” new less about what was going on than Liss did. Eventually a signature was sorted and we got through the first gate…………. the plane had started to board. Liss put on her best Pommy accent and got the British Airways lady to push us to the front of the line………we could have been saved. Enter the Cromack factor.
As we were going through security my first mistake was to be wearing a hat, airports don’t like hats. Then in the panic of it all I went through the metal detector with my wallet still in my pants…….the plane is all but boarded. ‘Right Sir, step over here.’ Then comes the gold, my head was whirring and I didn’t understand a word he said so using my excellent new French skills I say ‘Parlez vous Anglais’ (Do you speak English) ……… He was a Pom! I had really pissed him off now. ‘I am speaking English Sir!?’ He went through my wallet, emptied my bag…….there was an aerosol can in there, that just pissed him off more. I though ‘Oh shit here comes the rubber glove………my sphincter tightened.’ Eventually he let me go……… ‘here we go again.’ I think to myself.
We ended up running to our gate with me carrying most of the contents of my bag, my belt and jacket flapping like a gollywog up a flag pole in a 40 knot southerly, hoping the door of the plane was still open………we make it and take our seats. As we sit down I look over at Liss and say ‘that went well’……………….. ‘Yes dear’
That was the start of 10hrs of planes and trains. I said good by to Liss at Heathrow. She was off to work in the London office, I was off to Barnstaple to get on the piss with the Pommy lads I have met in Yamba over the last few years.
The train pulls into Barnstaple Station, Strel (the God Father) is waiting there for me on the platform. He is the consummate gentleman, he lives in a mansion, sells BMW’s and…………looked like an Afghani bomber. ‘Crowie, good to see you old son’ he says. ‘Good to be here mate’ I reply. ‘What’s with the beard’ I ask. ‘All will be revealed in good time………. all will be revealed in good time.’ My liver quivered, this was going to be a hectic 48hrs.
Strel walked straight over to the hottest looking BMW I have ever seen. ‘This is our ride?’ I exclaim. I throw my bag in the tiny boot and jump in. The car attracts a lot of attention. Strel looks over to me and says ‘Everyone thinks you’re an arsehole if you drive a Beema, especially when you’re 25………….. who are we to disappoint them.’ We leave the car park sideways with smoke pouring from the AUD$800 a piece tyres.
Now I mentioned before Strel and the boys live in a mansion, the Pimp Place. It is four storeys high, has its own spa, sauna and tanning room! ‘The winters over here can leave you a bit white and pasty Crowie’ Strelo says as he gives me the guided tour. I lost count of the number of bathrooms and bedrooms, trust me when I say it’s just nuts.
Slowly the lads started to gather at the Pimp Palace, preparations for the Pigie Power Piss Up were in their final stages. This is the name of the party I had come for. It started as a Birthday party for one of the boys, Johnny. It has since turned into a monster. It costs about AUD$3000 to put on, they have there own merchandise and a frightening amount of ‘Pigeon Powerade.’
A few of the boys are in a band, the Yum Yums. The boys were having a practise session out in a barn, just out of town. We sorted out the T – shirts for tomorrow, grabbed some beer and headed out to the farm to see the final practice session before tomorrows gig. We were in a precession so the pace down the narrow hedge lined road was pretty cruisey. The BMW was just itching to unleash its power.
I met all the lads in the band, we all had a few beers and the show for tomorrow looked the goods. We were all talking about the need for a quite one before the party tomorrow, but we still managed to knock back a few cleansing ales. It had come time to head back to the Pimp Palace. Jet lag was starting to set in and as I walked out to the car I wasn’t sure if my feet were touching the ground.
A few of us poured into the BMW and we were the first to leave the barn………..the Beema had a clear path. Strel lit her up as we left the driveway and dumped 2nd gear. The road was dark and wet, no room for error. ‘I guess you’re not used to these narrow roads Crowie’ Strel says not taking his eyes off the road. From the back seat comes ‘And the best part is just behind the hedge is a stone wall on both sides.’ Strel pops 3rd. The note coming out of this thing was amazing, and she just rev’s forever. We fly around a blind corner, Strel using the night to his advantage, as you could “hopefully” see the on coming traffic’s headlights. We hit a hump in the road, the car lifts off the bitumen………..Strel slots 4th. The boy can drive, I look toward to the back seat, one eye still on the road. ‘How’s it going in the back there boy’s, this air bag in front of me is very comforting, a nervous giggle comes from the back. We are coming to the end of the narrow section of road where we enter onto a new road and head to the left. The approach is about 25 degrees off perpendicular, Strel asks me should we stop and look or just take it. The approach angle is perfect to just slide the car into the corner and roar down the road, but if there was something coming we would all be in the shit. I asked myself “am I prepared to pay the price?” The boys in the back seemed keen ‘Just punch it’ Strel puts the car into a four wheel drift, we were more committed than a single mum with two morgages. The onboard computer was using every nano second to compute the right suspension settings and keep the power down on the road…………..Strel pulls her back straight and drops the hammer. The rest of the drive into towns seemed pretty subdued after that for some reason.
I woke up in the morning and went to one of the many bathrooms to discover I was sporting a Merv Huges style moustache. ‘Barstards’ I thought as I checked for other signs of tampering. With the jet lag I was easy prey, I slept through the whole thing. The boys had all shaved up when we got home and thought it might be fun to shave me in my sleep. That wasn’t the only unsavoury thing to happen in that bed.
The rest of the day was all about Pigie Power. I was given the task of creating the punishment for failed tasks or for initiating Pigie Power virgins…….of which I was one. There was a way to avoid having to skoll one of the vials…….make it to the top 10 in the skolling competion. How nasty would you make the punishment if you were in the firing line for one of the vials?……well an Aussie boy has gotta back himself against Poms now doesn’t he. There was raw egg, curry powder with Tabasco sauce, something I found in a share house fridge mixed with tuna………it was nasty. ‘Better wear your drinking shoes tonight Crowie’ I thought as I placed the vials in the Pigie Power brief case.
We loaded the van with the bar, piss and other paraphernalia and headed to the coast which is about 20mins up the road. Now no-one new Johnny was coming from Australia, except me and his brother, so Rob was running proceedings. He made a grand entrance to the field by riding a pink kid’s bike, while wearing a pink suit, through ‘the Hoop of Fire.’
The drinking games started early, first the knock out rounds. The Pigeon Powerade was a mix of Vodka, Apple Cider, Wine and juice. Potent and sweet. I won my first round, there was a discrepancy in the second round and we had to have a 3 way skoll off. 3rd round was a decisive win. . . . . .then there was 12. To qualify top 10 there was a nearest the pin golf shot, the boys had a mate called pin, so he was the target. I had my shot, well feeling the effects of the Pigeon Powerade and sent it straight at “the Pin”, the bastard ducked, but it was good enough to get me to the next round. There was one guy who had asserted himself as the biggest Pommy threat, he had taken out two Aussie lifeguards and the boys were backing me to take him out. I met him in the semi finals, I had to win this to have a shot at the trophy. By this point in the game we were standing on a stage in front of about a hundred pissed idiots all wearing the same shirts. The atmosphere was electric. I was the last Aussie standing. I was called to the stage and introduced, then the giant Pom jumped up, my boys were going berserk. With my stomach full, I was starting to rethink having those few beers between rounds. “Hey look, Crowies having a bloody beer in between rounds” One of the boys exclaimed. It was all part of the mind games.
“Chink” our glasses touched…….gulp gulp….it was down. I raised my glass in victory…….but there was a call to go to the video ref. It was all on film……after several replays the victory went to the local boy……what can I say “It was Close.” The final was an unlikely one. The giant pom vs a chic. The Giant Pom had skolled his way to the final, she had spilt her way to the final. The more she split on here shirt ……… well you get the picture. All protests fell on deaf ears. Ready….. set…..go, she spilt the Pigeon Powerade all over herself and was declared the winner. At this point I was glad I went out when I did. Johnny later surprised his mates by making an entrance in a pink pigeon suit, it was classic.
The night ended up in a club, the Yum Yums played and rocked the house. We all drank way too much and soon it was time to grab a cab home. I had two Aussie mates there with no where to stay so I told them they could stay at the Pimp Place. I lost them just as the cab pulled up. I was on the phone trying to direct them to where I was in a town I didn’t know. The cab kept filling up. By now the cab only had two seats left, I gave them to the boys. The cabbie didn’t want to know about one extra……think quick Crowie. I said “No worries” and turned to walk away while giving one of the boys a wink. I ducked down and dived in around everyone’s feet as the door slammed shut, I was in.
We paired off and went to bed, I ended up with Hughie Dougherty as my bed buddy. He has more Australian titles in the surf than most and was a top 10 finisher in the Coolangatta Gold. What’s all this hair in the bed, “ummm don’t worry about that mate.” That would be the least of his worries, I woke up about 3hrs later cold thinking “Why am I wet…………..”
