803 MEN (Day 41)

I woke up to an early morning phone call from Gonzo. It probably wasn't that early, but I was sleeping before it happened. I guess I already implied that by saying I woke up to it.

He asked me something about one of our sponsors, to which I had no answer because I didn't know what he was talking about. I couldn't help him, so the phone call was short-lived.

Not long after that, my phone rang again. This time it was my mom. She thought I had called her, and though I hadn't, I was happy to hear from her. Her phone card didn't last very long but we got a chance to briefly discuss the Bandits games over the weekend and my upcoming plans to head to the beach and to Byron Bay, finally traveling somewhere other than the ballpark or the office. Not that I mind what I’ve been doing, and those are the things that I came here for, but it will be nice to get to a beach. Sock tan, see you later.

I tried to make a phone call home after that, to my friend Nicole, but I had no success. I had somehow misplaced my phone card and couldn't call her without it. Instead she got a compensatory email letting her know that I messed up our phone call date and wouldn't be able to make it. I'd have to head to a store first and get another phone card in order to make an international call. I looked around my room a little more before finally giving up on the idea of the call. Then I headed to the ballpark for the last day of garbage cleaning until the next home series.

Carl had already informed me that he was on his way and would be there soon so I figured I wouldn't have much waiting around to do. When I got to the ballpark, I was once again on my own, though this time it didn't seem so creepy because the gates were open. But there was no one on the field or around the concourse. I walked to the far side of the Showgrounds to the back part of the locker room, in the parking lot where the players park for the games. I figured Carl and/or Whitey would be coming from that way, so it made sense for me to wait there. Also, there were benches there for me to sit on, so I didn't have to have a seat on the ground or just stand during the entire waiting period.

As I was sitting there, a whole bunch of old people dressed in fancy clothes walked by. I felt pretty stupid in my cleaning clothes, complete with a Ninja Turtles t-shirt and Underarmour shorts. I was incredibly underdressed and out of place. To add to that, the only things I had with me were my keys, my phone, and a peanut butter sandwich I'd made for Carl in a plastic sandwich bag. I'm sure they were wondering what I was doing there almost as much as I was wondering what they were up to.

After a little while I tried calling Carl to see how far away he was. He didn't answer so I tried Whitey. I assumed they would be coming together and I needed them to let me in. Whitey answered by saying, "You need me to let you in somewhere, right?" and he was obviously correct. I responded by telling him that I needed to get into the locker room and he said he would be just a few minutes.

Carl showed up not long after I got off the phone with Whitey, but he was on his own. My assumption that they would be arriving together was incorrect, and so now Carl and I were both locked out together. I gave BFC his sandwich and as it turned out, he'd made me one too. With the sandwich meat and sliced cheese from yesterday's locker room leftovers he had put together a delicious sandwich for each of us. If nothing else, we both had lunch covered. Priorities.

Whitey eventually showed up and we got into the locker room to get our supplies. We cleaned up all the garbage and then I decided it would be pointless to scrub the seats down since we don't have another game for almost two weeks. It would make more sense for us to come back before the first game of the next series and do it then. So I tried to sweep under the seats in the members' stand instead, finding trouble because the end of the broom was bigger than the aisle. I was going to ask Carl to use the leaf blower on it when he was done doing that elsewhere but when I found him I learned that the leaf blower was out of gas. So much for that. At least we got the trash picked up.

Whitey had left almost right after he let us in and said he would come back for Carl because he had to go somewhere near his place and could drop him off back at home on the way. So while we waited, we played some ping pong. Having that table in the locker room is super handy. Whoever decided to do that is a genius.

When Whitey showed up, I walked home and ended up falling right to sleep when I got there. I'm sure I needed it. But I felt pretty useless. I woke up and decided to try and get some laundry done, making me feel slightly more accomplished. I had previously spoken to Carl about watching The Rookie, the show on Bris31, at his place later in the evening, so that was pretty much my plan for later.

Before I started my walk over to his place I decided to go to the nail shop because I had broken a nail and I wanted to get it fixed. I can be so delicate sometimes (ha). It didn't take long or cost much, because I only had one nail done, but I didn't have enough cash to cover it. I wanted to pay on my card, but the woman at the shop (who speaks about as much English as I speak Chinese) just kept telling me it was going to be five dollars. At some point I began assuming that five dollars is too small an amount to use a card, which is why I think she wouldn't let me do it. In the end, thanks to her kindness (either that or the language barrier), she told me not to worry about it and I said I would come back and pay her next time. She seemed okay with that, or at least she didn't run out of the shop chasing me when I left without paying, so it was a good day at the nail place for me. Free is always better.

From there I continued my walk to Carl's place, where I was pretty sure the guys had already been drinking all afternoon. It's holiday time I guess and Julie is out of town, so Whitey needed comfort. He found that comfort in Carl, his roommates, and likely several bottles of beer. Makes sense to me.

During my walk, I stopped at a variety store near Carl's place. Last week when I stopped by to watch the show, I brought a jug of chocolate milk with me. I thought I would continue my newfound tradition of gift-giving in exchange for hospitality and bring something new. Since the guys were drinking, it didn't make much sense to bring another jug of chocolate milk so I instead opted for a slightly inappropriate magazine. They just keep those things out in the open around here. The girls all had tops and bottoms on, however skimpy, so it wasn't that bad. Don't go judging me. The guy at the counter was definitely making judgments though. I had to ask him three times if I could have a bag before he realized what I was saying.

When I got to Carl's place the guys (Carl, SJ, Whitey, Dusty and Dave-O, the latter two being Carl's roommates) were busy trying to put together a box for the mascot head. Apparently the mascot needs to get to the All-Star Game in Perth with Gonzo, and it is going in a box. The guys stole some giant box-making materials (cardboard) from behind some store and were attempting to build it to fit the head perfectly. It seemed far more complicated than necessary but who am I to say? I just watched while they continued working, each of them with beer in hand.

At some point they finished working on it, or maybe they just stopped, and we all went to watch the Bandits TV show. We ordered about a billion pizzas before that and they arrived just in time. We downed them almost as quickly as they arrived. I really need to start thinking about what I eat before I eat it a little more. I'm sure a bunch of pizza isn't the best thing I've ever had, and I've done it a few times since I've been here. Oops.

The show was much better than last week, though everyone had their own criticisms for it. I was just happy that it played in order and there weren’t any segments missing.

After the show, Gonzo came over to get the mascot from Whitey, and also to pick up the box that is the mascot's new home. When we heard he was close, we all went out to the porch to greet him. All of a sudden we heard a loud pop and a hiss coming from the street, not usually a good sign. It was Gonzo, who had blown out a tire coming around the corner to Carl's place. Perfect. The guys moved the car into Carl's driveway and set to work on changing the tire. I was probably one of the few who have actually changed a tire before but Carl and Dave-O have more recent experience than I do, since Carl had done the same thing on the same corner to Whitey's car previously.

It took all seven of the guys around to change it, seemingly. But it got done and Gonzo was once again on his way. But changing a flat was probably the last thing anyone wanted to do after drinking through the afternoon into the evening. I was actually a little worried about the well-being of Gonz and his passenger but they were fine. The guys are just as capable of handiwork under the influence.

When we went back inside, someone put on what was probably the weirdest movie I have ever seen. It’s Australian and called The Castle (I think) and it gave us plenty to talk about. And to laugh about, because it was hilarious, mostly because it was so stupid. I haven’t quite decided if I would ever recommend it to anyone to watch, because it was so weird, but it is pretty funny, so maybe.

After the movie I decided to run home from Carl’s place. I started out walking but then decided that would take too long and I didn’t have too much stuff with me, so running was feasible. I ran the whole way, stopping once because I thought I saw money on the ground on the Story Bridge. As it turns out, it was a leaf. That was a disappointing moment.

I almost stopped again when I went by the gay bar on Wickham Street because I wanted to take a picture, but I didn’t. At first, I just saw a police car outside of The Wickham (the gay bar, for those of you who didn’t catch that) and figured that there might have been some people getting into a little bit of trouble on a Monday night. But then when I saw the license plate on the cop car, I literally stopped and laughed out loud for a few moments. The license on the police vehicle was 803 MEN. Right outside the gay bar. Coincidence? I think not.

I didn’t end up taking a picture though, and instead I just continued my run home. You’ll just have to believe me on that one. I made it back to the apartment and went straight to bed, still tired despite my afternoon nap.