Follow our instinct

We can either follow our instinct or take advice from every joker

We can either follow our instinct
After a few quiet days in Cairns I headed to Brisbane for the weekend. An Australian friend from London had tried a couple of his friends as possible hosts but last minute changes of plans meant that I was without a host for the weekend. I decided I might as well still visit so I had looked around for a cheap hotel deal for the weekend. My arrival into Brisbane was the anniversary of the floods that had swept through the city the previous year. I hoped that my arrival into Brisbane would be a little less devastating for them. The trip from airport to city centre was quick and easy and my hotel was close to the station. Having checked in & finding out my room had a little kitchenette I decided to find a supermarket to get some provisions in and check out where the nearest gay bars were. I did some online research and found out the addresses of a couple of gay bars, marking them on the map that the receptionist had given me. I went out for a walk, heading to Fortitude Valley, the area where the gay bars were, so that I could see it in the light and know where I was headed if I decided to go out for a couple of drinks later. It was only a fifteen-minute walk to the first gay bar and was easy enough to find, even for someone like me with a bad sense of direction.

It was early Friday evening and there were already a few people sat outside drinking. I contemplated going in for a quick drink but decided against it, heading back via the supermarket where I picked up some things for dinner and a bottle of wine. Once back at the hotel I put the pasta that I had bought on to cook and set about opening wine. I opened the one drawer in the kitchenette – knives, forks, spoons and a selection of cooking utensils but no bottle opener. Bugger. I opted for the tried and tested method of pushing the cork into the bottle using the handle of a teaspoon. Hotel teaspoons are not what they used to be and my first attempt resulted in a rather bent teaspoon. As I bent it back the other way it snapped in two. Luckily the cutlery in the drawer appeared to be stocked with a random assortment of different styles and sizes of cutlery so I hoped the absence of one teaspoon would not be noticed. My second attempt was more successful and I was soon drinking wine. Out of a coffee mug. Classy. Given the cork was inside the bottle I had no choice but to finish the whole bottle. I didn’t make it out that night.

The following day I was up and out for brunch, finding a little coffee shop just down from the hotel to get my caffeine fix and some food. I had not seen much of Brisbane the previous day so I had a wander round the central business district and the main shopping streets before going for a wander round the Botanical Gardens. Having walked through them I found myself by the river just as the heavens opened. I didn’t have an umbrella and it didn’t look like it was going to be a brief shower so I did my best at trying to run from covered spot to covered spot, heading in the vague direction of the hotel. By the time I made it back I was absolutely soaked, my jeans stuck to my legs and my trainers making a squelchy sound as I walked. They were the only pair I had with me so I needed them to be dry for the evening. I stuck them on the radiator in my room and cranked the heat up as high as it would go. I spent the rest of the afternoon snoozing and writing, but mainly snoozing.

After my snooze and some dinner I showered and made myself look pretty before heading to The Wickham. Thanks to the radiator and a quick blast from the hairdryer in the hotel bathroom my trainers were dry. The weather had cleared and it was a warm and dry evening. and the tables outside the place were full. After showing my ID to the bouncer I headed in to the bar. There was hardly anyone inside although it was still fairly early in the evening and I was hopeful that it would pick up later. Having got my schooner of lager I decided the best place to attempt to get chatting to someone would be outside. I made my way back out, finding a free space on the end of one of tables. I got my phone out to look a little busy while I did a scan of the other people at the tables. It was a mixed crowd – gay boys and gay girls, twinks, older guys, a few straight people. Most people were in small groups; there were a few couples and me, seemingly the only single person there at the moment.

Take advice from every joker

I sat perched on a stool at the end of the table listening in to the conversation of the people next to me on the hope that there would soon be a way into their conversation.  A guy on the next table caught my attention and said “You can smile you know?”. I had clearly been sat there with my serious face on while trying to find a way to strike up conversation with someone. My serious face, which I do when I am not relaxed, makes me look a bit scary and unapproachable which might explain why I had yet to speak to anyone. Thankfully someone had taken pity on me and I was soon chatting to the guys at the next table. They were all local and I asked them about the gay scene in Brisbane. They gave me a rundown on the different venues, the sort of people that went to them and what nights tended to be best. They told me that they were planning on heading to another gay pub, The Sportsman Hotel or Sporties for short, later in the evening. As we chatted a group of people asked if they could take the other end of the table and they settled in. I had got to the end of my drink so headed to the bar for a refill.

After a while the guys I were chatting to headed to the bar to get in one more round before leaving for Sporties. One of the guys in the group next to me asked me where I was from. I assume he had heard my accent while I had been chatting. I told him, explaining that I was in Brisbane alone, had come out for a drink and had got chatting to the other guys. I asked him what Sporties was like. He told me he thought I would be better off staying at The Wickham. We did introductions and I was introduced to the other people in his group. They were out celebrating a birthday. The consensus amongst them was that I should stay unless I had a particular thing for older men. I made a snap decision and decided to stay with my new friends of all of five minutes rather than go to Sporties with my new friends of an hour or so. I also knew my way back to the hotel from The Wickham and I wasn’t sure where Sporties was.

The new group thinned out a bit as the evening wore on and soon there were just four of us – me, Paul who had been the first to chat to me, his boyfriend Ryan and a girl called Bec. They asked what on earth had brought me to Brisbane, as the city was not the most obvious of tourist spots. I explained my trip and they were all very enthusiastic about it. Bec told me that I should stay at hers as her apartment formed a triangle with The Wickham and another gay bay called The Beat. Her apartment was the highest point on the triangle so she called it the Gay-pex. We chatted for a couple of hours over a fair few drinks before Paul & Ryan headed off. Bec and I had one more for the road. We carried on chatting for another couple of hours and I felt an instant connection to her. She asked me what my travel plans were for the rest of my time and I told her that I was off up the Sunshine Coast for a few days after Brisbane but then not sure of what else I was doing. She told me that she would put me up at hers in Brisbane the following weekend, as she would love to be part of it. I thanked her and told her to think it over in the morning (or afternoon) when she was sober and that I wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t send a sober offer. We finally parted ways at 3am, heading off to our respective beds. It had been a great night out in Brisbane.

“We can either follow our instinct or take advice from every joker”
Lyrics from Nine People’s Favorite Thing from the musical [Title of Show]