:: Tuesday, 16 November 2004 ::
218298 on the clock and I am in Brisvegas. Literaly. I am the Hilton in Brisbane and there is a 5-star gaming room just opened called 'BrizVegas'. Niice. So what was seen on the trip from Byron to Brisbane?
- first turn at the first roundabout in Byron was a huuge pink cement mixing truck with the words 'Wog Boy' for some reason written along the top of the hood under the windscreen. Happy toots.
- roads out of Byron are good, whereas roads into Byron not so good (see yesterday's post). Think that could be a conspiracy of Rachel Ward and Delvene Delaney to keep the riff raff outta their cliquey beach spot? Hmmm.
- no fun car stuff on the quick trip to Brizzy - only a couple hours and no double names but the intriguing Mooball turnoff was spotted. Balls of moo...I may have to get out of the car for that place on the trip home. Only wierd car stuff was the sparkly clean Porsche Targa, laden with middle aged blonde man (hair a little long, like the folks who work in Gold-Rock-Radio-Cominatcha-102.7 or whatever, you know?)with wife by his side and either mother or mother-in-law in the back. Poor fellow, he was driving with his right arm resting on the driver's side door and his head resting on his right hand. If I had slowed down I might have seen the tears in his eyes.
- local radio was kinda ordinary, some lousy Merkkkan country music, some guy all excited about interviewing a tax officer (I kid you not, he sounded as high as a kite with excitement about the interview) and Triple JJJ's news as spectactularly stupid and uninformative as ever. Settled on a Czech classical composition by someone I will never know cos the announcer totally strangled the name by stumbling over it, not once but twice. Zatu-pach, erm, Crackuchet-, uummm, Januc....whatever. It was nice, but. Did some excellent road conducting in honour of my Pa.
- so into Brisvegas, working without maps the whole trip by the by. The principle is a simple one and works - keep driving til you get into the city. Once there you will see a highrise hotel into which you can check. I found the Hilton and it is terrif. Drove in all windswept and interesting, handed the keys to the concierge, an older gent who knew I'd have no trouble getting a room, he takes the car, sends my luggage up to reception on the 6th floor and compliments me on being female and having driven so very very far. Why thankyou, old fashioned man. So, to reception where I get checked in, get a smoking room, and get complimentary passes to BrizVegas, with complimentary French champagne too. The lifts to my 13th floor room (oooooooh) are straight out of 'High Anxiety', that Mel Brooks' movie amemba? All glass. I got in and decided to face my mild fear of heights by gripping the rail and standing right at the back of the lifts with the glass as lift off occurred. Whiteknucke experience for a sec and a voice behind me said 'Why are you doing that to yourself?' Orunno, maybe I was weeping or something but he could feel the fear. Tony from Pennsylvania - here on business - told me I was a very brave girl 'but if it hurts, don't do it, that's my motto'. Good advice.
- opposite the Hilton is the American bookshop which is really just regular but with that much lefty rubbish in it it is amazing. They have a section called 'Current Affairs' and it is four or so shelves jam packed with every criticism and hysterical screed that hates Bush, hates the Iraq liberation, hates everything about America. Just a joke. I understand that sort of rubbish in Gleebooks and Readings but please, in the American bookshop? I asked the owner why the shelves were so loaded when there is a raft of books out now that counter all the lefty anti-Bush anti-American group think and she said, all snippy, these are the titles we buy, if you would like to order something we can arrange that for you. Urgh. Why bother. Just a few doors down is McGills, best magazine joint ever and I have not seen one since Melbourne days, and that made everything better. Architecture and Design magazines and car magazines and hours of fun to be had...but
- ...day spent shopping and walking around Brizzy city. It is great to be so in town cos you get to hear bells on the hour, which is rare in Sydney. Early night spent having a French champagne with Tony in BrizVegas. Lord it is a ritzy joint. Prolly should have had a pina colada or some such but young Tony was very much a Kerry supporter, sadly enough, so celebration and partiness seemed inappropriate. we did, well, I did, manage to find common ground in our mutual loathing of the UN. Just the one beer, cos the hatred of 'redneck voters' was too strong and no amount of discussion about blogs and actual strongly held logical views could dissuade him. Pleasant but not worth the effort. Funner to place some losing bets.
- today, over the Blackbutt Ranges and turning right at the Peanut Silos in Kingaroy. Whoo hoo.
More tomorrow and thanks for reading.
:: WB 2:40 pm [link+] ::