we be jamin

It was our last day at Rotto today. The fellas wanted a flight around the island in a Cessna plane. Over the fortnight I’ve stacked a bike, been stung, cut on glass, grazed, and nearly fell down a cliff. Rotto has had it in for me. Rather than crash to our deaths, I voted instead for mini-golf at Brett Heady’s Family Fun Park - the only way we’d die mini-golfing would be if a Cessna crashed down onto the course. Peer group pressure won out and I joined the flight.

We were 10 metres off the ground before my worry abated - I figured that given I was doomed to crash to death, I may as well enjoy the view. The view was awesome, and the pilot did a few tricks: flying straight up, flying on the side with the wing pointing down, and hard banks leading into turns. The flight turned out to be the best 15 minutes of the entire fortnight, and we had taken plenty of happy snaps, on the off-chance our parents would want photos of our last moments alive.

We had had great weather at Rotto for ten days and then Hannah arrived.

I’m not saying the two events are linked, but she arrived yesterday and suddenly it was pissing down and we were stuck at K-Town.
We let ourselves into the hall and played Taboo. At 4 o’clock, the Rottnest Volunteers came in to set up for a quiz night. With fundamentalist-christian-like enthusiasm they set about organising the hall for the event. We asked if we could stay at our table (which was already in place) while they set up but were told by one of the organisers that this was not possible. >:(
Trying to make her realise that there were hours left until the event in which we could sit out of the way and remain dry, I asked her when the quiz would be:

“When does the quiz night start?”
“Six dollars.”

Realising she’d misheard, I made out as if she’d answered my question and asked another:

“And what time does it start?”
“It’s six dollars.”

“$6.00″ - It’s the new answer-all for any question

Pete was talking to a Rotto local who works at Red Rooster. The local called the General Store the G.Store. And so it began - Kinsgtown Barracks was now K.Town, Red Rooster now R.Rooster, and everyone was referred to as x-Dawg.

Last night, after drinking at the pub and on our K.Town verandah, P-Dawg, N-Dawg and Me were joined by a group of 18- and 19-year-old girls that had been staying a few doors up from us. I’m not sure, but they may have been drunk, as evidenced by them all coming out in nighties and three of them each trying to swig the recently-finished bottle of Malibu on our table. A night of drinking, loud music, games, and dancing ensued.

One girl, T-Dawg, works as a hostess at children’s parties. She taught us a number of drinking games which were all based on the party games that she teaches kids in her capacity as a fairy princess. If they played them as hard as we did, there’d be some shitfaced four-year-olds out there.

It was a great night that ended on a perfect note - at 5 o’clock, the Rotto police arrived after a neighbour called.

The constellations have aligned. My family (on my Mum’s side) are staying at Rotto for a week, and then the day after they leave, my friends come over for a week.

Over the next fortnight I will go snorkelling, bike riding, jetty fishing, boat fishing, beer fishing, playing radio rummy, playing taboo, getting intoxicated, verandah cricket, perving at the beach, drinking at the pub, Brett Heady mini golf and air hockey.

I’ll be staying with 26 people: Alastair, Beth, Eugene, Jack, Jimmy, Jonesy, Fiona, Granddad, Grandma, Hannah, Margie, Maria, Mark, Matt, Melissa, Mum, Nick, Pete, Peter, Richard, Rolf, Ruhamah, Sophie, Tim, Tone, and Vinnie. Phwoar!

Combining lost earnings and money spent on the trip, I will be over three thousand dollars worse off. It would be a bargain at twice the price.