Oops! I Got Nadded Again
January 13, 2001
I don’t know about you, but I had a brilliant Christmas. Actually, no – it was the weekend before Christmas that I had a great time.
I flew down to Melbourne for the Christmas weekend to spend the holiday with my family. I really felt like going out on Saturday night, but I didn’t really have anyone else to go out with at short notice. I ended up doing it on my own, staying in a nice hotel for the night.
That evening, I wandered around the city and quickly remembered why I love it so much. I guess in a way you’re always drawn back to the place you’re born. I like Sydney, but I yearn for Melbourne. I guess you wouldn’t necessarily be drawn back to the place you were born if you were an Iranian with a taste for alcohol, but who knows – maybe you get turned on by lashes.
That’s one thing I really love about Melbourne – it’s a city you can really explore. There’s lots of little surprises down the side streets (please see today’s other entry about alleys in cities), and when you find somewhere cool it feels like nobody else knows about it. The only thing that kinda sucks about Melbourne is that the city isn’t alive at night as Sydney.
So that was Christmas. New Years Eve was quite good, too. Adam and I spent it with Adam’s new mate Rick. We went out to Newtown for some dinner and spent some time at a hotel. The hotel had helium balloons everywhere for the occasion, and as you can probably imagine, it wasn’t long before the high-pitched voices were everywhere. I’m sorry, but there’s something absolutely hilarious about saying ‘Ohhh yeah, give it to me baby,’ after you’ve inhaled a balloon of gas. I also recommend singing Barry White songs after helium.
It was interesting to note that Rick wouldn’t join in on the balloon madness, though. We kept pressing the issue, and he eventually admitted that he has a fear of balloons. This was declared to be hilarious, and the rest of our time at the pub involved yelling ‘BOO’ and ‘BOO-LOON!’ loudly, and throwing balloons at Rick, watching him freak.
I soon realised that it was time to stop the helium when my head was feeling very light, so we went to Darling Harbour to watch the fireworks, and ended up going out to a few more pubs in Oxford Street. For about half an hour I lost Adam and Rick and wandered off on my own to some pub that I’d never seen before, and overheard someone ordering a shandy.
My brain picked that up as a keyword. I wasn’t sure why because I was drunk, but shandy had some significance. After about two minutes of computing, my brain clicked: a shandy is lemonade and beer – the most homosexual drink in the world!
As if I’d just been blessed with a revelation, I turned slowly around, pointed at the man, and yelled ‘HA HA HA! SHAN-DAY!’ in a faux cockney English accent. A lot of people looked at him, and he went rather red.
I felt bad, so I went over to him and apologised. I explained I was very, very drunk; and that I’d never had a shandy before, so I shouldn’t knock it until I’d tried it. (I never plan to, though).
He seemed nice enough, and we ended up talking for a while. He asked me what happened on my last New Year’s Day, and I explained my story of how I got kicked in the balls. I further explained that I was fearful the getting-kicked-in-the-nads incident could become a tradition on every New Year’s Day.
‘Maybe it will,’ he stated, before lightly kneeing me in the crotch, sending me reeling. It was enough to make me walk funny, but nowhere near as bad as the New Year’s Nadding 2000.
Maybe he’s right. Perhaps it is a new tradition. What a way to send in the new year.
Happy New Yaaaargh!
