Last Saturday night Mrsdave insisted that I go to the movies with my mates Timby and James and so, being a good husband, I went and saw Iron Man (which was awesome). We watched the movie in cheap-arse gold-class (we stashed beer in a back-pack) and so when we emerged we were in the mood to continue our evening. After last weeks frightening experience at the Bended Elbow we decided to sample the delights of the Roi Bar which, like the Elbow, has recently had the honour of being listed by the NSW Government as one of the State’s 100 most violent pubs. Here’s what I learnt at the Roi Bar.
The queue outside of the Roi was quite different to the one at the Elbow, there was a whole lot less flannelette for starters, and there were a whole bunch of young guys in cheap suits. For someone like myself who believes that there is a T-Shirt for every occasion, the suit thing seemed quite novel, although I couldn’t shake the idea that perhaps these guys had watched one too many episodes of How I met your mother and decided to “Suit up”.
The other thing that I couldn’t help noticing was the fact that these guys ties all looked like they had been done by a third class kid who’s in a hurry for assembly. No doubt the fact that I’d already had quite a few beers by that stage influenced my decision making, but I couldn’t help pointing out the awful effect that these flawed ties had on the guys appearance. Most of the guys took my criticism on board with good humour, in fact there was only one guy who took offence to me asking if he was capable of typing ‘Half Windsor’ into Google and pressing search, but I’m going to guess that’s because he probably spent his last few dollars on his ghastly tie, so in fact couldn’t afford internet access.
Once we reached the front of the queue we encountered a hurdle, I had no photo ID. Why the drivers license belonging to the father of a toddler would be missing from his wallet I leave as a thought exercise for you, the reader. Thankfully, I’d drunk most of James’ share of the beer during the movie, leaving him capable of driving me home to search for my license. The bouncer who refused us entry said that he’d let us straight in if we returned with ID, a statement which we doubted but actually turned out to be true.
- Not all bouncers are lying bastards who simply want to beat the snot out of you because of their unchecked roid rage.
The DJ at the Roi Bar was significantly better than the insipid fool at the Bended Elbow, which was a relief as I didn’t think that I, even in my drunken state, could manage another evening of poorly mixed jarring music interspersed with shout outs.
- Not all DJs in the country are refugees from the local FM station.
So Timby, James and I all set off on separate missions, congregating occasionally to argue whose shout it was.
- You will never remember whose shout it is after 2am.
I simply couldn’t overcome my objection to badly done ties, so I spent far more time than is socially acceptable haranguing strangers about their lack of effort. Eventually someone challenged me to do better and I decided to show them how it was done.
- It’s difficult to do a Half Windsor knot when you are drunk, haven’t done one for months and are being challenged by a stranger.
For a moment I began to panic, but after one more swig of my G&T I entered a Zen-like state and did one of the best Half Windsor knots seen at the Roi Bar for quite some time. The stranger was impressed, took the tie back and thanked me.
- By 3am even small achievements seem quite monumental
I returned to my Gin (which glowed an appealing iridescent blue thanks to whatever carcinogenic lighting they had there) and felt that I had found a measure of success that I could be happy with. It was then that the guy whose tie I had knotted came and found me again with one of his friends in tow. “This is the guy” he yelled to his friend while pointing at me. His friend nodded, removed his tie, and passed it to me with an expectant look. Sage like I did the tie and passed it back to him, to his delight.
- By 3am your small achievements also seem monumental to others
Sometime after this it was decided that we should leave and we discussed where to crash. The lack of available taxis meant that we would have to walk so the Dave from Albury Compound was chosen as our destination.
- It’s actually quite cold at 4am
The next morning Buster Boy and the Troll Princess also had some lessons to share with us, namely that kids don’t give a damn about how hungover you are or what time you got in.
Which leads me to Sunday, there was a lot of ibuprofen, paracetemol and codine consumed by me in the hope of warding off the hideous pain in my skull. We went to an indoor play centre where I was able to sit at a table all afternoon while slowly consuming bottles of cold water.
Happy Mothers Day Mrsdave, I hope that your day was everything that you hoped for.