Listening To: NoOne Ever Really Dies : NERD
On the few occasions I’ve watched Home & Away (slightly more when I auditioned for the role of Shane … alas, Git-Face Brummer beat me to it … just think how many lives would have been different if it had been me pashing Melissa George on-screen instead of Dieter !), I’ve always wondered if living in a real sea-side town was like that, and if these towns were as full of plastic-looking, inherrently bland people as their on-screen representation is.
Last Saturday, my partner and I drove down to Bateman’s Bay for her 10th Grade, 10 year highschool reunion, and I got a small first-hand taste of what living in a Home & Away town must be like. I could summarise quickly and tell you that despite the 4+ hour drive there, followed by a day of helping her finalise things at the function venue, then attending the evening itself where I drank copiously, I insisted we high-tail it back to Sydney at 2 a.m. for another 4+ hour drive. I was tired as fŨck, my night-vision isn’t perfect at the best of times and doubly so on unlit stretches of the Princess Highway while it’s raining … but I just wanted to jet the duck outta there ! However, that would make for a very short blog-entry, so I’m going to elaborate on my Summer Bay experience.
Now, I must admit I don’t travel to the South Coast very often. My family used to vacation at Nelson Bay for years and years, which is up North … and although I’ve been to Kiama once or twice and think we’ve even been to Bateman’s Bay once before, generally speaking that whole region is something of an ‘unknown quantity’ for me. As such, I was definitely curious when IG first invited me along to her reunion – here was my chance to see where my gorgeous, charming and intelligent partner had spent her formative years ! On the few previous occasions she’d mentioned it at all, she did tell me she didn’t really ‘fit in’ to the Bay … nonetheless, I wanted to see how much of a hand ‘environment’ had in shaping this wonderful woman I know and love.
Thus it was with a very open mind that I drove into the Bay around midday on Saturday arvo, having made good time on the trip down from Sydney. First impressions – it’s bloody small ! Pretty, but small. I guess I’m a city-boy at heart and always will be. In that way I’m like my mum – although dad is from a relatively small, Moravian coal-mining town, mum is a girl from the ‘big smoke’ of Prague through and through.
This impression the Bay gives of ‘smallness’ isn’t just geographic – it’s also social. Said fact was immedietly confirmed at our first port of call … the local ‘Chippie, where IG stopped to load up on oysters (apparently this is always the first thing she does when she gets into town). Whilst procuring said seafood delights, and waiting for them to cook our fish’n'chips, my partner was greeted with life-long familiarity by an old dude who’d also come in to the shop to buy some battered Hake. Turns out he’s the local driving instructor, and his son was also expected to show for the reunion. This theme continued throughout the afternoon, while we scouted for decorations (streamers, baloons and candles) at the recently opened shopping centre. Within 2 minutes of arriving at the mall, my girlfriend had spotted 3 people she knew from school, although we assiduously avoided them.
We crossed the road later to find IG’s best friend, who manages the local Hog’s Breath Cafe, and who was supposed to be getting her hair done at the salon. It turned out to be the wrong salon, but as my partner bantered with the owner like they were old friends and asertained her mate was at a different salon one of the old stylists had opened up (and which the proprietor was happy to give directions to incidentally … try getting that in Sydney), I was struck by this weird ‘Muriel’s Wedding‘ feeling which didn’t really abate for the rest of the trip.
Eventually we made our way to the venue, the Bateman’s Bay Soldiers Club, and after signing in met up with the best friend upstairs to check out + decorate the function room the reunion was going to be held in. The best friend was lovely, and I felt immedietly comfortable with her, which I can’t unfortunately say for the Club’s ‘Events Co-Ordinator’ who proved to be a bit of bane for us during the course of decorating, and the course of the night. The function rooms were nice and surprisingly classy, so we only did a little bit of decorating before leaving to get ourselves ready at the best friend’s house.
Once at the house, my partner and her friend did a bit of catching up & gossiping, exchanged Xmas presents, and IG copied some photos for a collage she was planning as finishing touch to the decorations. Finally, they started to get themselves ready for the evening, while I grabbed a quick shower. Got out, changed into my shirt and pants, and went outside while I waited for the girls to frock up.
Shortly after that, I’m visited by a divine vision in red 
It’s IG in the dress she’s chosen for the evening (which I haven’t seen before), a pair of red heels she bought for the occasion a few days earlier, and wearing a red-rose choker she’s borrowed from her friend. She looks utterly, indescribably ravishing … I have to resist the urge to get naked with her right there and then, in the middle of her friends lounge-room !!! Somehow I don’t think the friend or her partner would approve. Not soon after, her friend and her friend’s fella are also ready, so all four of us pile into their car, and stopping along the way to pick up the other member of their reunion committee, we head to the venue.
Now when we get to venue, IG and I start trying to mount the photo display while her friend runs the other girl through the various details of who is coming, how the night is going to work etc etc, and the friend’s boyfriend stalks off to the bar. This is the point at which Margaret (the Club’s events-chick) starts to become really annoying … among other things she’s insisting that we can’t tape stuff to the walls, and actually taking down all of the stuff we had put up earlier.
Instead, we get a white board, and have to do the best we can with that. IG, who has already been a bundle of nerves for most of the day (though she hides it well … only I notice, but I’m sensitive to these things) looks pretty pissed, but does her best to smile through the the annoyance of Margaret. Our bar staff have arrived and set up by this point, so we all grab drinks and chat for a little bit. The DJ has also arrived and set up, and we let him know what sort of music he should be playing (mostly 90′s pop and grunge). Shortly thereafter, the guests start arriving. Talk about Summer Bay !
The crowd consists of lots of meat-heads & surfers, mostly dressed in jeans and t-shirts though the invites said smart-casual, and a whole gaggle of frikkin Barbie clones – blonde hair, blue eyes, ‘fantasy-tan’ skin (although it could be real tan … who knows … who cares … either way it looks shit) … all wearing black dresses, some of which are already threatening to burst at the seams.
Most of IG’s school-mates look like they’ve been stamped out of the same great big blob of fantasy-tanned flesh on a production line, then given identical haircuts and implanted with a ‘snooty attitude’ chip. Here and there are a few mullets dot the room for ‘variety’, and one or two of the other girls are wearing colour (green or blue … no other reds … although a few of those are partners of people from ‘the big smoke’, so don’t qualify as Bay residents anyway), but mostly it’s like being in a room full of those identical, evil blonde children from Village of the Damned. Idly I wonder if in-breeding is big in this town, and drain my drink, before going off to buy another.
That ends up being more or less the recurring motif of my night … me heading off to the bar to get another drink. IG, understandably, has to ‘mingle’ for most of the evening as one of the organisers – or at least try to. Even though I didn’t go to their school, it’s apparent within the first five minutes that everyone has segregated themselves into their old high-school ‘cliques’, and when I ask my girlfriend if this is indeed the case, she confirms it.
Nonetheless, my partner ‘works’ the room chatting to people and trying to get past their snootiness, trying to get them to mingle outside their old groups, trying to get them to act grown up. I don’t envy her the task, and try to stay out of her hair when it becomes quickly apparent she doesn’t particularly want me following her around, or engaging in any PDA for that matter – the latter which I must admit hurts a little bit, and leaves me wanting a few more drinks. The DJ has been playing crap – not what we requested at all, so a few times IG or myself or her friends go up to remind him of the sort of stuff we want to hear – but he doesn’t seem to take much notice and keeps putting on the same crap.
I don’t feel like talking to anyone really, and I wouldn’t know what to say, so keep myself amused mostly by drinking and ducking out to the gaming area. There is no-one I find even remotely attractive in the room except for the ravishing IG and her best friend to a much lesser extent, so I don’t even have ‘eye-candy’ to raise my interest levels. Mostly I just make a bit of small-talk with one of the other couples sitting at our table, and buy drinks.
After a while the dinner buffet is laid out, and after letting people know this is ready, IG has an animated discussion with the DJ and his off-sider, before finally coming back to sit down next to me. Apparently the DJ doesn’t have any 90′s music, and will have to go to his house to grab more CD’s. He could have told us that earlier ! We hear him fade in a Bon-Jovi track, and that’s what plays for the next forty five minutes … one Bon-Jovi song after another, because that’s obviously the only 90′s CD he’s got ! IG goes to talk to his offsider again at one point, and comes back with a stunning revelation – when she asked him if he had any hip-hop, this dude asked her “What’s hip-hop ?” !!! Gaaaaah !
I take my girlfriend outside for a little while after that, away from prying ears, and gently ask her how she’s coping. I also express my concerns about the fact it feels like she’s ignoring me a bit, and that I find it a bit distressing that this girl who is normally so demonstrative in public isn’t letting me touch her or showing me any outward signs of affection in front of all these Summer Bay clones.
My girlfriend responds by telling me how under pressure she’s feeling, and how horrible some of the people she’s trying to be friendly to have been – and apologises profusely ! I do my best to comfort her, and tell her not to “give a shit about these morons, or what they think”. To her absolute credit, once we go back in IG does her best to make me feel included for the rest of the night, and even warms up to PDA eventually – I guess it’s hard to do that in front of people who used to give you shit at school and don’t seem to have done much growing up in the interim !
Speaking of the rest of the night – dessert, speeches, a few more drinks, and eventually we even get out on to the dancefloor once the DJ comes back with the CD’s from his house. These aren’t exactly 90′s … they’re contemporary pop / dance for the most part … but it’s better than Bon Jovi ! We even get a bit of grunge happening – Nirvana “Smells Like Teen Spirit” … and in a lovely bonding moment IG and I head-bang on the dancefloor while the Barbies just look on with stupid vacant looks on their faces. “Ha ! Eat that !”
People start leaving to go to ‘The Pub’ eventually – The Bay is a two-pub town, but naturally one of these is a place the locals wouldn’t be caught dead in. IG’s friend is amongst them, but we decide to stay on. The bar staff call last drinks a quarter hour before the allotted time, and the DJ winds up also – meaning we’ve over-paid him by a half hour ! Nonetheless, IG and the other reunion-committee girl decide to cut their losses, and my girlfriend and I make our way outside, satisfied that she did the best she could under the circumstances to make sure everyone had a good time, and if people are determined to be babies there’s not a lot you can do about it.
We debate whether to go to the pub and decide against it, and although on the balance of it I had a decent time I’m toying with the idea of heading back to Sydney there and then, instead of sleeping at the friend’s place as we had originally intended. What finally decides me on taking that course of action is the little ‘incident’ which occurs while we’re waiting for one of the town’s 4 taxis outside the Soldiers club with some of IG’s friends (another ‘Sydney’ couple). I won’t bore you with the details, suffice to say a bunch of local fucktards (not from the reunion – just randoms) decide to try pick a fight.
I try to get everyone to calm the fŨck down, and I’m succeeding with two of them while thinking to myself “if any of them touch the girls I’m gonna have to smack ‘em up” and simultaneously having to hold IG back from practising her kung-fu on their arses because she’s definitely itching to ‘go’ these dudes … but then the third guy who is out of my line of sight smacks IG’s mate a good one on the cheek. Bouncers, the local Force … it all gets a bit chaotic for a while after that. The tedium of statements being taken, giving the coppers our details etc etc. Net result – one of the fucktards gets shipped off in the back of a divvy-van, and the rest are told to piss off home. In the middle of all that we get a call from IG’s best mate … she’s left The Pub now and wants to get a taxi home with us, so when we can IG and I walk the block to where she is.
There are loads of drunk people waiting for buses / taxis where we meet her friend, so we head back to the soldiers club with the friend in tow. Our luck holds, because the taxi we’d ordered for there hasn’t arrived yet and pulls up just as we get there. The five of us (IG, her best friend, the other Sydney couple and myself) all cram into the car and finally leave the Soldiers Club. The taxi drops IG, her friend and myself off at her friend’s house. In the aftermath of the fight, before picking up her mate, we’d already agreed to head back to Sydney that night … and although I’m tired as *PHUK* and it’s going to be more than 4 hours of driving, my resolve holds.
We make our apologies to IG’s best friend, who anyway is drunk and tired and needs a good sleep, and after collecting our stuff where we’d left it in their spare room, we hop into my car. We exchange a kiss, we let out a collective sigh, and I gun the accellerator. “Let’s jet the duck outta here baby !”
And that, dear friends and readers, is DB’s first ‘Summer Bay / Muriel’s Wedding Experience’. Comments appreciated – you know what to do !
Addendum: You know, I’m kinda glad I stopped IG from kicking anyone’s arse too … apart from anything else, I think the sight of a busty brunnette in a long, figure-hugging red dress and strappy high-heels doing round-house kicks to a bogan’s head would be crossing way too many wires in my brain ! hehehe
