Dinner at the Yacht Club

I did not expect today to end up a bit drunk, at the Simpson Bay Yacht Club... but of course my boy would have. He knows what I am capable of, and indeed so do I but at the same time days still astound me as to how they turn out sometimes.

I'd been asked to come in for one ride, a private ride (1.5 hours) which under the new circumstances meant it was only walking since one half of the couple was a first-time rider. I explained to them the policy of not going fast with beginners, and they understood, although the experienced girl of the couple I know wished it was different. Even said, "It's OK, he doesn't mind falling off." Yes, but I do!! I'm sorry but after last time......

The ride went smoothly enuf, me not budging past a walk the whole time. They were Canadian - AGAIN - and I thought for a moment they weren't gonna tip me, when I came back down with my bag to head home, they pressed $25 into my hand. A decent tip, especially for Canadians. But seriously, what's with all the Canadians... eh???

I gave them some tips on the good beaches to go, and I think they ended up choosing Mullet Bay, while I myself was pondering where to go. N was too busy again to catch up, and promised later but I didn't hold my breath, and ended up getting a lift from the boss wife to Cupecoy. She, in her Dutch English, mentioned it was a "no clothes" beach but I assumed it was just a topless beach. No no, I looked down and was confronted with full-on, old-person top-to-toe nudity. My main problem with that, not getting nude but expecting me to look at everyone else in that state. When they're all at least twice my age. All good when I'm that age but now.... don't think so.

I walked through a little bush track to the next beach - and by beach I mean small stretch of sand that occasionally got thrashed by breaking waves. I positioned myself a fair way away.... but clearly not far enuf... about the point I realised there was a naked black man about 3m to my left (I deftly moved my topless body face down), a huge wave came and swallowed almost my whole body alive - thankfully my cat-like reflexes caught my bag in time and all was well inside that personal capsule of life.

That about did my time at Cupecoy. The beach was practically non-existant, the hotels seemed formidable in their welcoming and Mullet Bay all too close. I originally went there for a gentle beer by the sunset, but it turned out a little bit more.

Walking down the sidewalk - at times non-exsitant - I built up a hefty thirst for a beer, and when Mullet Bay came I happily walked the beach to get a cold one. Parking myself somewhat in the thick of it, I soon happened upon some (hidoeous) Aussie accents and talked a little with the group, who ended up being from the super yachts. Gone in a few days, thank fuck. Haha... what a bitch I am.

Then an American started talking to me, interesting in some advice on his soon-to-be trip to Oz. I grabbed another beer (ran into some old man I'd met at Buccaneers before and his cold-as-ice wife - I assume - who made some snide remarks about her being in Canada while he must have been "flirtatious" with me. I condescendingly patted her arm while explaining he could be my father, stupid cow) and we kept talking.

The guy was super sweet, overweight and not all that attractive and travelling alone. I felt for him, as he told me how pretentious and horrible the girls could be in Washington, where he was from. He had a stammer and was a little reserved, but I perked him up, surprised him when I said I would come to Sunset Bar to watch the sun (umm) set, and have another drink. That's what happens when I get a couple into me on the beach...

We enjoyed a beautiful sunset, I had some random, drunk American come over with a shot of Jagermeister proclaiming, "You must be Australian with that accent! Drink this!" OK, if I must. Then bought me and my new friend another drink. Ahh, the drunk. So free with their money.

Afterwards, we got talking about dinner and I said I was hungry, but would head home to cook something as I was a bit short on cash. He waved it off, saying we should go somewhere nice for a bite. It is not often I get shouted dinner so I agreed, he being a gentleman and also on his own. I guess he wouldn't mind the company.

Dinner was nice, although my mahi-mahi fish was so seasoned I wasn't quite sure where the fish started and my sauce ended. Regardless, a couple of drinks later and I was definitely more than tipsy. Straight home afterwards, after another successfully random outing. N bailed on my again due to tiredness, no matter I had my hands full, and promised to do something the next night. We'll see, we'll see...