Day 36: On keeping your mullet well groomed and seal greeting etiquette

*BEEP BEEP BING BONG BING*

No matter how merry the tune is, wake up enough to the same one and you’ll come to loath it with a passion usually reserved for moustached dictators and people who say “yous”.

My alarm happily begins to chime and I fight the urge to smash the hellspawn Tablet under a fist of righteous might.  Before I can act on my impulse I remember how expensive the little hellspawn is, and it gets to live for another day. I dress, and like yesterday I remind myself to change the alarm tune. Jacket on and I’m out the door.

The motions between waking up and opening the door are so similar to my normal life back home that some mornings the view I’m presented with shocks me.

In my state of waking I sometimes loose that little voice reminding me where I am. But as soon as I open that door he’s right back there – giving me a cheeky tap on the shoulder and telling me to look out over the buildings. If I could convert those feelings into words, they would say: Es ist so schön, ich bin sprachlos!!

Bracing myself against the brisk air, I begin my walk to the Meteorological Building on the other side of the station. It’s 4.30am, but the sun’s up like it’s mid-morning and a slight mist is floating lazily over the dirt roads. As I continue to wake up I begin to enjoy the serenity of the scene – there’s no generators humming, no large bulldozers grumbling, no other soul. Just me and the crunch of shoes on ice echoing against the buildings – it’s all very surreal.

I’m paying careful attention to the mud puddles, which experience has shown me re-freeze during periods of “less sun”. As I skip from island to island, a sudden brown landmass rises up in front of me. Looking up, I realise I’m standing face-to-tail with a gigantic elephant seal. It’s body is as high as I am, while easily longer than two sedans put together. The hulking mass blocks most of the road.

Really not knowing what else to do, I speak up.

“Hey,” my voice rings clear in the dead silence.

With a shock that’s reflected by a wave rippling up and down its body, the seal shuffles slightly to the side until it looks at me.

“BURP FART!!”

“Nice morning for it,” I reply.

It looks at me for a few seconds, “BUUURRP FART!!”

“I think your right, it’s chillier than yesterday morning.” I’m enjoying the look of confusion on the seals face – that exact same head tilt you get from your dog when you tell it to jump out the window. I don’t think the seal has too many people trying to make chit-chat.

“BURP FAAART!!” It replies again.

The conversation isn’t going anywhere, so I decide to leave it there, “well good day to you, Sir!” I say with a tip of my hat.

I walk around his tail and continue on my way. The elephant seal tries to shuffle back round to follow my movement, giving one final burp fart as I disappear round the corner. I smile to myself, because I just met a new friend. I’m going to call him “Bob”.

 

That day was particularly long forecasting for the helicopters who were given some extended flying hours, so it wasn’t until late afternoon when I finally left work. I’m excited though. Tonight was Pub Night.

I went back to my room to put on my best mullet. With a flannelette, singlet, jeans and a pair of thongs (the shoe variety…) to finish the look, I get down to the local as quick as I can.

 

In the main lounge, the place is being set up. As one of tonight’s barman, I walk in behind the bar and hone the skills by pouring myself a trial beer from the tap. It works. I pour myself another to ensure it’s consistent. It is.

Clive and Bryce soon join me, and together we barman the hell out of the night: aided by the occasional check to see if the shot glasses work, and that the tap’s still pouring… Dinner is an excellent choice of steak or parmies. Being the bar manager, I organise the bouncer to give a few specially selected patrons some stick. The stage is a bit quiet, so I get up there to start the open mike session – proudly coming away with a few sporadic claps…

When the live band (who’ve been practising since we arrived) kicks off an hour later. The bar is pumping. Everyone’s laughing, singing, dancing. The place goes mental.

 

*BEEP BEEP BING BONG BING*

Grunt…. I forgot to turn my alarm off…

Mouth is dry. Things are a bit hazy. I’m not sure who’s thong I’m wearing. And no idea who’s shoes these are… Still, pretty sure that was the best pub I’ve been to…