Clubs and Jugs: January 11th- January 18th

January 11^th- January 18^th 

            My liver gets the night off. Monday night. This is the second night that I haven’t gone out since I have left and it has severely caught up to me. My crew of pirates and bizarros have been drinking more $8 boxed red wine than some small countries.  My memory has been bugging me lately. I’m not sure if it’s the continuous binge drinking, the jet lag, culture shock, or what, but I don’t like it. Last semester already seems like an eternity away, a former life. It all goes by so fast... all you can do is live.

            The first week at school has been ridiculous, to say the least. The campus is perfect, small but perfect. I was really surprised too because normally colleges flaunt there buildings, surrounds, and technology. They want to look sexy in college informational literature. This school only had a few snapshots of kids and an arch. A modest view for how beautiful the campus really is. We have gone out to Surfer’s a few times for a wild night life. Every Thursday a bus totes students from the on campus bar, Don’s, to the heart of the Gold Coast night life. Most of the bars here are just clubs. Raging, dancing, binge drinking scenes lit by strobe lights and music is provided by only the greatest ‘old’ rap songs that have been out of style for weeks in the states. A rap song being out for weeks is like years when comparing it to anything else. But no one complains... everyone loves it.

            The on campus bar has pitchers for $7. The beer isn’t that great, but when I order another I have to remind myself to call it a ‘jug’ to avoid the $2 American Idiot Tax they tack on if you call it a ‘pitcher.’

I was over this stuffy bar: most everyone was from Bond and all my friends were dancing in the epicenter of the ecstasy invested rave. I left in search of another site. I stumbled down the streets of tall sky scrapers and palm trees. Solitude felt as good as my buzz. It was Monday night so needless to say not many places were hopping, but I saw a few people waiting to have their IDs checked so I stepped into line and entered a place called “The Bedroom.” Beds literally lined the walls of the dance floor. I thought the last place was insane, it was. I grabbed a beer and watched the freakshow from the perimeter. After snagging a slice of pizza I met back up with some friends and we split a bus ride home. The next couple days included a couple surf sessions and beach days and the car search. The surf sessions were nothing to brag about, but I could really tell that Snapper Rocks gets a ridiculous line up. The next couple nights included the same debauchery of those former.

            The car search is looking really promising and I think that I’ll have wheels by the end of the week. I can’t wait for how much freedom that will allow for. I’m getting a little apprehensive about driving on the opposite side of the road, but this place is basically American Proof. There are signs along the streets saying “do not enter,” “keep left,” and off sidewalks it literally says “look left” with an arrow.

            Although there are hints to summer all around: 90 degree weather, sunny day after sunny day, tourists questioning bus schedules, it has finally hit me. When they mean that there is no ozone here and to reapply every hour or so, they mean it. My back is peeling like an onion. Starting from the middle and working its way to the outskirts of my shoulders and sides, the proof that I have been fried is ever apparent. Now I know that it is summer... I have one good burn under my belt.