Showing posts with label Boozing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boozing. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Send off

After more than 3 months living out of each others pockets, getting hell waves and consuming more than 350 litres of beer in total, the 3 amigos were no more - Taylor ‘the prophet’ had to bail to LA then onto London to work in bars and mop floors or something fun like that. More than an appropriate reason to break invest in a bunch of longneck Coronas, break out the tequila and spark up the cigars. So after an afternoon beachie session at Zigatella, we kicked back, got deep, got stoked on all the waves we pulled apart on tour, and made complete messes of ourselves.

Regaining consciousness the next morning, I was kindly visited by a cracking headache - the sort the only drops by post tequila. Nothing to keep us down, the only cure was our take on a mexican breakfast - eggs, toast, beans, powerade, fresh juice, coffee and beers.

With Taylor out of here, Jim and I relocated to Aqua Luna - the Aussie run and Aussie overrun hotel  complete with pool, bar, jacuzzi and epic views over Zigatella and Mex Pipe. Tay’s bus was leaving that night which gave the lads enough time to smoke up the last of the cigars and treat ourselves to a few more conronas. We did deserve it.

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Sunday, October 3, 2010

Lost without waves

“Wait is that a wave!?!”

“Nah its just a homeless guy”

“Brain overhaul, I've got an idea!”

 “Lets get on the beers...”

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Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Coopers in Mexico

The Coopers brand seems to have pulling power in Mexico. Found this Coopers surfboard snapped in half on Zigatella Beach - a bar had stuck the board in the sand with a sign on it promoting their 10 peso (less than $1) all day 'happy hour'. Patriotism compelled us to treat ourselves, even if they didn't sell Coopers.

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Thursday, September 23, 2010

The 1st Annual Tuk-Tuk Fiesta

There was an abnormal level of froth on the ground this morning. The crew of 8 had high expectations for the 1st Annual Tuk-tuk Fiesta and the fiesta directors were not about to dissappoint. Taylor, Victoria and I had secured 3 tuk-tuks for half the day, purchased nearly 4 litres of Bacardi, a tour hammock and a basic map outlining all the bars and landmarks we were to hit.

The 1st Annual Tuk-Tuk Fiesta was a combination of a Mario Cart style race, a bar crawl, a village tour around Antigua, an urban hammock challenge and a surprise birthday party. The fiesta began in the Black Cat where all participants took a complimentary shot of tequila, pick up their tour maps, 3.5 litres vessels (containing Bacardi, coke & lime) and have a team meeting before things got underway/ out of hand. Each team had 3 balloons and one pinata filled with candy that must be secured to their tuk-tuk. Similar to a Mario Cart battle, rival teams must pop all 3 balloons before they were allowed to annihilate the pinata. This meant that at each bar, balloons and pinatas must be protected at all times.

After a lap around Antigua, first stop was Riley’s Irish bar where local bartending legend Allan assured us an impressive combination of Irish Whiskey and Irish bar tunes. Sure enough we arrived to a bar lined with whiskey and a devilish smile on Allan’s face. Riley’s bar was also where the celebrity birthday was drawn- all names went into a hat, the first name drawn name was awarded with the ‘birthday’ for the day. First name out was Plugga who was extactic to realise that within a couple of hours he was to receive a bounty of presents from the market, care of the tour participants. After finishing a bottle of complimentary whiskey, playing 30 shots in 30 minutes of cerveza and a bit of urban hammocking, it was time to push onto the maze of a market to locate the dingy little locals bar we found the day before.

With another lap around Antigua and a few more balloons breaking, our tuk-tuks parked at the local markets. Before making it to the bar, each participant was to buy Plugga some sort of ‘gift’ and bring it along. Finding the bar again was a mission - not only were we lost in the maze of the market, but with a substantial amount of whiskey taking residence in our stomachs, it was like the blind leading the mentally challenged. Eventually everyone found the place and we got down to business. Each participant was given a 1 litre beer and both hands were duct taped to the bottle. No-one could do anything until the beer was finished - that meant no toilet and limited protection of balloons/ pinatas. Only thing that was a little sketchy was that there was 8 of us sitting in a dim lit, locals bar in some back alley of the market - completely helpless until we finished the beer. All the more reason to drink faster.

Somewhere in the next hour Plugga was showered with gifts ranging from super stiff hair gell to a potato named Eric. Victoria’s gift of a dog collar and leash seemed as much a present for her as a present for Plugga - she proceeded to dominate him, leading the birthday boy around the market by a leash. Eventually making it back to the tuk-tuks, someone had the brilliant idea to deviate from the course, drink at the tattoo studio and get nose rings. Pretty sure it was the Dominator.

A third lap around Antigua had us at the local tattooist’s. Even though their were customers waiting ahead of us for some body art, the girls used their ‘charm’ and got the owner to puncture 6 noses on the spot. There were tears, clenched fists, a bit of blood and more Barcardi, but eventually the 6 brave had some sort metal protruding from their nose. During this time, everyones guard was let down and ‘Patrick’ the starfish pinata was decapitated, and the game was over. So was the Tuk-Tuk Fiesta. With only half of the planned course completed, it was already 5pm and the tuk-tuk owners were getting pretty pissed that we were running overtime. Calling the end to the tour, we straightlined back to the Black Cat for what some would call an after party, others would call a cyclone of beers, tequila and B52’s. From this point on my memory didn’t fair too well, but most of the crew made it out, tearing apart a couple of the bars and clubs in Antigua. There were notable appearances from the Phantom Dancer, the Tequila Bantid and a Julia Gillard impersonator.

The next day dead bodies slowly emerged and met in the Black Cat cafe area. Sharing war stories, and jogging my memory that in fact I was the Phantom Dancer and also the Phantom Mattress Thrower (snipering residents of the black cat with mattresses from the 2nd story) the first beers were ordered by 10am. Led by Taylor the Prophet, beers and tequila flowed again like water throughout the day and like that, it was dark again and we were loose, again.

Taking a rest from going out, a few of us had a craving for cerviche and made our way to this little restaurant around the corner. No joke the sign on the door said “Open 5.30pm-6.30pm” but with no trouble at all, the little Mexican lady opened the restaurant just for us. Maybe it had something to do with the Flava-flav style watch I had handing from my neck - a souvenir from the past couple of days. The food was huge and so fresh - the lady goes to the coast 4 times a week to get fresh fish, the margaritas were epico and the top shelf tequila was a welcomed change. Full and content, we went home to hibernate.

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Thursday, September 16, 2010

No waves?

What do you do in a tiny surf village when there is no swell? Buy some local rum, a bunch of cigars, a few beers, then find an abandoned restaurant overlooking the bay to get loose for the arvo.

Then then back to base for a bonfire and a good old tazering.

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Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Rum shots and sponsor stickers

Its a sweet little routine - waves, hammock time, then well deserved beers on the beach. As the sun began to set, the fire was ignited and over dinner we discussed what it would take for Adam to take a tazer right to his back. After alot of bargaining with all parties involved, Adam settled on 1 fish dinner and 1 bottle of rum. Super excited, we immediately had a pre pro meeting discussing cast, props and camera angles. With all the talk of Adam’s inevitable electrocution, he vanished into the darkness, returning about 20mins later with a pretty accomplished look on his face. He’d just ventured over to the Billabong Girls Surf Camp, selling them in on the apparent fiesta we were having, roaring fire, epic tunes and handsome dudes. Skeptical if the girls would actually show, the ordinary fire still got some subtle attention. Then to the sound of the local dogs barking, 10 girls emerged from the darkness - beers and rum in hand. From then on things got pretty loose - constant shots, tazer antics, Adam’s theatrics, fire attention, fingers through a fan and chickas passing out on the sand.

 

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Monday, September 13, 2010

Walls of Las Flores

With the swell building the last couple of days, the crew got some good hours up in the water. Breaking over rock in front of the headland, the point is a real fast right hander that barrels on take off (getting pretty sketchy sometimes), then walls up all the way through the beach. At 5-6ft we were all getting some pretty long rides. It should be a pretty crazy wave when the swell picks up a couple more feet. Hopefully arrives in the next week.

With average stoke levels of the crew sitting at 93% over the last couple of days, its only fitting to treat this accomplishment with some cervezas right on our doorstep.

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Saturday, September 11, 2010

Popoyo to Las Flores

Following a building swell north to El Salvador, we had a night in Managua before getting the 5am bus. Contrary to what Lonely Planet told us, Barrio Martha Quezada - the area around the bus terminal was a full on ghetto. I’d reserved us a night at a reputable hostel, only to have a street hustler direct us into his building telling us it was the same place. Out of pure laziness, even though we were pretty sketch on the place and the shady characters around it, we decided to stay the night - would allow us to get on the beers earlier.

 

By chance we stumbled upon a German bar on some random street, greeted by owner ‘David’. Telling us he only opens the doors when he feels like it, we followed him into his empty bar. Clearly drunk by his slurring and decision to wear Ray-Bans inside the dark room, he cracked open 4 Tonas and slid them across the bar. Proud of the fact his fridge was set at -7 degrees C, we got down to storytime. Our travel stories, his impressions of our personalities on face value, suicidal surfers, conspiracies of the world, his story (fighting for a rebel army, robbing banks, opening bars, his Nica family) and other general crap. After a whole heap of beers, dinner at a restaurant around the corner, then more beers at ‘David’, the man himself vanished into the darkness - his ex-wife who was looking after the bar had no idea where he was.

 

Next morning at 4am, we were stoked to awaken unharmed with all our gear untouched. For an 8 hour travel day including border crossings though Honduras and El Salvador, everything went relatively smooth. Eventually touching down in tiny coastal village Las Flores, we were all very impressed to see the place was sporting an epic right point break. Getting a place 50m to the water and next door Adam and Nick - 2 Americans we met in Popoyo, a fiesta was in order to celebrate new waves ahead. Who would have thought that beer, rum and a tazer gun could prove so much fun.

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Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Ode to Tona Grande

“Tranquilo amigo, there’s nothing to fear, good times and hammocks, oh what a beer” - Taylor ‘Prophet’ Jardine

Standing tall at 1 Litre and a core temperature averaging -2 degrees C, these super refreshing lagers are far and apart the best cervesaz in Central America.

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Friday, August 20, 2010

San Jose

We had 3 stops in San Jose as we transited to different surf spots - epic to party, but the place is pretty full on. As with the rest of Costa Rica, San Jose has a huge US influence from musical tastes, fashion to fast food outlets. Good in a way, as you’re assured of any supplies/ gear you need. Bad in that things are shit expensive (sometimes more expensive than the US) and the western influence largely diluted any traditional culture.

 

So in transit we pretty much sussed out upcoming swells for our next destination on the net and partied hard. We hit up El Puablo a couple of times - a full on local Tico’s nightspot. First time we were there there was not another gringo in the entire complex (15 bars and nightclubs). Again our shady Espanoil came into play as we worked with what little we had to make the local ladies smile. Midway through the night Jim had lost his face and most control of what he was doing. As he was the only white boy in the entire place and super loose, I had to step up and become his personal security detail. Seems like a regular occurrence on this tour. Cutting some rug and hammering a few more beers, we set off for the Blue Marlin Casino - a special place which Goldy had urged us to check out.

 

Upon entering the massive woodern doors we cast our eyes around the gaming floor. The place is thriving with amazing bootylicious Tica girls. I saw a Jessica Alba Tica, an Angelina Jolie Tica. Turns out every single girl in the place is on the job, feeding on gringo success. After a few beers and a few wholesome conversations with the nice ladies, Jim and I got down to business on the black jack table. We were killing the hands for a while before the dealer started to get up on us. He was an angry little bastard so I felt quite good when I cleaned him out and bailed without throwing a tip. Nice.

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Friday, July 30, 2010

Jammin pizza and the World Champs of Insulin (WCI)

A full on Catalina establishment, Jammin Pizza worked hard for its money. Epic wood fired pizzas, couple magnums of Chilean red wine and we were good to settle in.

But it seems its pretty tough to have a good wholesome fun these days, without things escalating. We got back to the surf camp, had a few beers and Taylor posed to question to Ricky, “what would happen if we had some of your insulin” to which Ricky replied, “my mates always ask me, but no-ones ever tried. Welcome to the 2010 World Championships of Insulin in Santa Catalina. We went straight to the final to see Taylor from Australia battle it out with John from Canada, who could get to 105 units first (the normal dosage for a diabetic is 12 units). During the heated contest, blood sugar levels were monitored closely, oranges, ice-cream and coconuts were on hand regulate blood sugar. With injections ranging from 15-30 units, I posed the question “Guys, this may or may not be safe”. But in the spirit of patriotism, the contest went on. Both contestants dropped below 4 on their blood sugar level (not at all stable) before the final round. With a big effort by Taylor, taking in a massive 50 units at once, it was all over and Australia has won the world championship. The customary feast of oranges, bread and ice-cream proceeded the final ward off any chance of a hypo. The contestants shook hands. And we went to bed. Taylor had a hypo anyway. What did we learn out of this little experiment? If non-diabetics take more that 10 times the normal dosage of insulin in a short space of time, they’ll find their way to the freezer looking for ice-cream.

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Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Fingers in Santa Catalina

So Raf got his ear pierced. It wasn’t totally a spur of the moment decision. Even though he exceeded his RDI of cervezas, a major driver of the stud in his right lobe was the fact that his bloodline can be tracked back to pirates.

 

Things began in the afternoon when Captain Rack Sparrow and his first mate Big Shoulders Lawrence ducked into town to collect 1 red emperor, 12 red snappers, a array of vegies, a wheel barrow of cervezas and a couple bottles of rum. A feast was about to be prepared. A few lads got on the grill, a few lads prepared the salad, the girls... didn’t do anything, but dinner was served.

Post feast and knee deep in beers, the finger game was introduced. Its an extremely social game, getting players and the crowd amped up and super hammered. It also has the potential to get out of hand - something I learned at my last job at TBWA...

As things were heading like they were about to get out of hand, Raf had come to the realisation that he needed to follow the footsteps of his ancestors. Calling on Qualified Keil to perform to operation, the surgical team prepped:

1 safety pin for piercing
1 lighter for sterilisation
Ice to numb the lobe
1 mango to sit behind the ear as support

We soon realised that Qualified Keil did not possess what was needed for the procedure. So Unqualified Keil was fired. In comes Sterile Scotty who in a frenzy raised the pin high into the air, charging it through Raf’s ear lobe, into the mango. Raf calmly requested the earring, and before you know it Captain Rack Sparrow was on his feet drinking rum from the bottle.

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Monday, July 26, 2010

And the dealer is forked

Dan vs Ricky for the most forking of a dealer

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