The Gold Coast Part II

As the sun settled down on our second night in Surfer's, we sat outside on the patio sipping some fine Australian  Chardonnay. Easing into our seats, we were approached by two hostel staff making the nightly rounds. 

They were selling tickets for the twice weekly Backpackers Pub Crawl event.  For 30 dollars we were to get free entry to four clubs, one free drink in each club, transportation, free punch from 8-9, cowboy hat, glowstick and souvenir photo (yippee).

With only  a few minutes to discuss, we gave each other a quick glance and forked over the cash. What the hell- we only live once ( and re-live crazy pub-crawls twice).

Dolled up and ready to go, we made our way to the front gate to board the bus. By far, the eldest of the group of 60 or so backpackers- I braced myself for one hell of evening. The only way to survive the teens in heat was to either join 'em  or drink enough that I would never remember a single detail of the night.

As we were scurried and stamped into the first bar, we bee-lined it for the bar. Double Vodka please. Pronto. The bar, filled with backpackers partying it up  was flanked with bouncers who stood on small stools surveying the crowds. We chose a spot a little off  from the main crowd, where we watched in awe as the girls and boys grinded and grooved on the dance floor.

Our spying was interrupted by two ferrels who insisted that I sit on a bar stool. I kindly waved them off- with a forced smile telling them I was fine standing.  The man made a second and third attempt to parade the stool in front of me to sit down. I again waved them off. After having a a few more gulps of  my first drink- the guy tried to put the stool out again.

I'd had enough of this childish game. I gingerly moved towards the stool to put it back where the boys were standing, as I stepped forward, my heel caught the edge of the stool and I toppled sideways and face planted right into the bouncer's crotch. Clutching my drink, I raised my eyes upward staring into his face.  Mortified, I peeled myself off  and apologized profusely. I could tell he was trying to contain his own laughter- but I was more concerned with him thinking I was one of those drunk twits who slurs, "I'm not drunk- this is only first drink!!" But seriously, I wasn't drunk and it was really my first drink.

The rest of the evening proved to be a bit of a blur, moving from one club to the next- and we managed to lose the pack twice. I'm not sure how you can actually lose a 60 or so backpackers wearing cowboy hats- but somehow.... we did.  We partied it up to the wee hours of the morning- having met some memorable people. We trudged on for the next few days. We discovered Sea World, took a day trip to Moreton Island and caught some waves during a surfing lesson.

My Grandmother always taught me never to judge a book by it's cover- and in fact she was right. Surfer's Paradise proved to be the best leg of the trip. The very best indeed.