Miss Karen D. was on the goon. Alarm bells were ringing. Nothing good ever comes from any situation that has a goon element. After the previous nights shenanigans, this post should have been titled 'Revenge of the Goon'. Even though I didn't touch the stuff, I felt sick just from my proximity to those indulging in it, acknowledging how bad those indulgees must now feel.
And this second night of indulgence initially felt subdued by the introversion of those brave soldiers wounded by their goon consumption. Two nights in a row is a lot to expect of any one not homeless, but Miss Karen D. was prepared to party on regardless of who would join her. I was trying to appear all sophisticated by drinking top shelf whiskey, but was failing badly by spilling most of it down the front of my shirt. I was more interested in an extra stubbie holder, but Bowen is short on the give away goods for drinks too expensive on a welfare budget.
We had another night off because the mental institute / farm has lines of communication on a par with the legality of their work conditions. Not enough tomatoes had been picked to warrant the night shift, but we only found that out when we arrived there for work at 6pm. We were turned away and it was the only time I was able to leave that farm while still feeling okay with the idea of being alive. We were being changed to the day shift after 2 nights of er, nights and the Miss Karen D. was blessed with the good fortune of having a day off for her last day of work.
The hostel communial area was the place to be, as always, but goon had dwindled attendees down to the devoted or addicted. Enough people had been kicked out after last nights celebrations that the fear of Christine, Goddess of Executive Authority and Bond Returns was keeping noises to the level of library whispers. On a related note, Miss Karen D. went all trash royalty at the end of last night and pashed some rough looking Australian dude. Everyone disagreed with her evaluation of him being a vaguely attractive male, but his criminal record seemed to attract Miss Karen D. more than anything else. She was possibly turned on by his current parole status, but the gloss wore off when he stole Tobies drinks and found out how wrathful Christine was when she gave him his marching orders.
Various members of the posse passed in and out of proceedings but few stayed a constant presence. Cute little Julia and the ever smiling and friendly Katharina were trying hard to partake, but the goon curse was reducing their English translation skills to sandwich mans level. Sandwich man was living up to his name eating his nights supply of sandwiches in one sitting. Ronan and Elaine passed past briefly on their way to seeking respite from their hangovers with another solid session at the local pub.
I was drinking XXXX before long and I knew all notions of sophistication would appear false. I was starting to look like a used car salesman and the only person who didn't know or care was Miss Karen D. She was too pissed to worry about anything other than the goon box emptying. Especially after her going away chocolate cake was smashed before I even knew it had been brought out. I blinked and missed the whole thing being consumed without anyone taking the time to chew their food or savour the flavour.
Swedish Oscar had cunningly worked his way into our group by distracting us with his two attractive friends. That they considered a towel to be sufficient clothing to cook in won them many male supporters, but less female ones. The girls could tell that a goon party was not one they wanted to crash and they headed to bed before anyone could enumerate the many disadvantages to aiming for alcohol quantity over quality.
Oscars sunburn highlighted the most common giveaway to a persons non-Australian heritage. Australians grew up in the sun and most go through many different shades of coffee brown before they burn. Northern hemisphere folk must consider the sun as much of a rarity as a platypus and fail to register it's danger before its burns them badly enough to tan their grandchildren. All people from the United, and not so United Kingdom seem to have only three stages. Their natural state is alabaster white that harks back to Victorian times. 10 minutes in the sun leads to a lobster coloured red that burns your eyes just to look upon it. 2 days later its the temporary leprosy as great sheets of skin peel away to reveal another layer of white awaiting the next beach fry-up.
My goon princess had spent enough time working the Nut farms box filling that she was free from the glowing welts of sun exposure. Thanks to the goon, she was developing a rosy glow on her cheeks and I was rapidly heading towards unsophisticated behaviour so it was time to say good bye. Good people are often hard to find and I cannot think myself lucky enough to meet too many more nice people as they pass through Bowen. Good luck with your travels Miss Karen D. and try to experience more of Australian men than just those on parole, even if that rules out more than half the population.
