Me & My
Sydney Sugar Daddy
I’d been living in my car in Sydney for almost 2weeks. My car was a Holden Commodore named Big Birtha, and true to her name, she was a big girl. A wide estate car with a big boot, enough space in the back for a double bed when the seats were down. She even had a tow bar on the rear which added to her already long length.
As you can imagine, Big Birtha and I had some issues parking in the cities on my travels but nowhere more so than in Sydney. Saying that though, as soon as I’d bought her from a place just outside of Melbourne, having come back to Melbourne to stay at my hostel and parked her right outside, I walked out the next morning to find a hole where my wing mirror should have been…
Evidently it had been blown to smithereens by a passing bus, the glass shards could be found all along the road. So this was my first taste of having a car in the city… and it was not about to get any easier!
Camping, sleeping in one’s car overnight, was not allowed anywhere in Sydney.
When I arrived I was also very out of pocket after blowing all my money in Melbourne, the accommodation being quite expensive and then the nights out being more expensive, whilst also not working, and then buying a car! Safe to say, I was useless at organising my finances… (some things just don’t change)
This meant I had no money to pay for any potential fines for parking or camping, so I had to be extremely careful. Especially when it seemed I needed a degree in Quantum Physics to make sense of the parking signs!!
And this only served to rattle my nerves even more for the prospect of receiving a fine, never knowing for sure if I was safe to park anywhere.
After a long time cruising around Bondi, (I had some friends staying in a hostel there) I eventually settled in a suburban area, parked on the road outside some people’s homes, hoping they weren’t going to notice me or just be chill enough not to call the police.
So this situation was pretty awkward. Especially when you woke up bursting for a shit.
With no toilet around I would have to dress in the confined space in the back of the car, put all my stuff from the front of the car, which is put there overnight, into the back, drive 5-10mins down to the beach, where I wasn’t allowed to park anywhere, so I was desperately on the lookout for an inconspicuous spot, all the time holding it in, then waddling quickly the last stretch of the journey to the beach front public toilets… Not a pretty start to the day!
One sunny, Sydney, Sunday afternoon, (try saying that after a few drinks) I’d been driving all around and about the city centre looking everywhere for a good place to park; the criteria for a good place being: FREE, and close to the centre.
After almost killing myself a few times due to not having a phone holder attachment and instead holding the phone in my hand while checking google maps, whilst weaving between a motorway of lanes as they wound through tunnels going up, down and around, with quick exits coming so fast and lanes suddenly diverging, 30minutes and 3 near crashes later, I was a nervous wreck and I wanted more than anything to get the hell off the main road.
I turned off at a sign for Woolloomooloo Wharf, (with that name, why wouldn’t I) and soon enough, I’d found a free car park for 2hours stay!! Not only that, I got out and walked up a staircase and across a bridge, and I was right outside the Art Gallery and next to the Botanical Gardens 😀
This was the Perfect Spot.
I walked through a park heading into the city centre and without having a plan I wondered through the streets taking in the sights, sounds and smells of this new city and feeling the vibe of the place. I was drawn over to a gathering of people who were queueing up for something and by the smell of it, it was some kind of sweet doughy food. As I came closer to see what it was that this lengthy line of people were all stood eagerly waiting for, I noticed the sign at the front:
Emperor’s Cream Puffs… intriguing. I thought this had to be pretty good if there were so many people wanting these little puffs, so I joined the queue behind three middle aged women who were jovially chattering away to each other in their Aussie accents. I asked them if they’d had these Emperor Puffs before and if they were any good. They said they were in the same boat as me, it was also their first time eating a puff. This lead to them asking me where I was from etc. and then I asked where they were from. They said they’d come from Woollongong to stay a night in Sydney and meet up with friends.
“Oh I’ve just come from Woolongong” I said happily, “Actually I had a funny experience there.”
“I bet you did!” Says one of the women jokingly.
Haha Yeah I did! And I preceeded to tell them the Short Story: Free Dessert Guinea Pig (click the link to check it out)
Well they had a good laugh at the Story and one of them said:
“No one’s ever bloody bought me a dessert in Woolongong and I’ve lived there my whole life!”
Meanwhile, because of the banter with the three ladies, the line of customers had taken no time at all to reduce so that the women in front had reached the front and could order their puffs from the puff window.
They ordered some and I ordered after and they waited for me to the side of the line so that we could share that first cream puff moment.
“Ok ready? they said.
“3!” one of them started, then we all chimed in as though we were about to down a drink but instead down a puff,
“2… 1… mmmmmmmmm”
It was like a mini cream donut but with lighter batter and less tasty.
“How is it Giles?”
“Not bad” I said.
“Oh just not bad eh? Not as good as your free dessert then”
“Yeah not great haha, but hey, we had fun didn’t we. Nice to meet you :)”, and with that we wished each other a good night and I continued my tour of the city.
Wondering around the edge of the bay at the harbour, I found myself coming across the famous Harbour Bridge and Opera House and then I continued around Circular Quay and up towards ‘The Rocks’, finishing off the highly anticipated, and woefully underwhelming puffs as I went.
This was to be just the beginning, of my late night adventure…
Strolling merrily along next to the sea, I looked across the road from me and saw a gathering of people evidently waiting for something, so once again I was drawn over to check it out. I asked one of the people there what was going on. The girl I asked was around my age with long brown hair, big eyes of possibly a greyish, bluish colour (I couldn’t tell in the darkness), and a white, freckly face. She explained that a free walk tour was about to begin.
As I had no plans at all, this sounded ideal for me, an unexpected adventure with some company, for free! The girl’s name was Kaitlin and she and I exchanged bits of conversation here and there whilst we listened to the walk tour guide give his spiel of the ‘gnarley’ history of The Rocks.
The walking tour guide was a slim, blonde bloke called Sam, late twenties early thirties and after the tour Kaitlin and I decided to go for some food and drink together, so we asked Sam, where was a cool place to go.
He gave us some options and showed on the map where they all were, but as we walked off, he said
“Ah Bugger it, I’ll join ya!”
and so the three of us went out in Sydney together.
He took us to a funky local pizza bar called Freddies where they had good deals on pizza and beer. It was the kind of place that had totally random shit on the walls, a weird and wonderful eclectic mish mash of memorabilia.
The pizza was awesome and we got to know each other over the rocky, folk music playing through the speakers. Sam was interested in micro breweries and passionate about beer. He showed us a beer app showing how many different beers he’d tried… turns out over a thousand!
Kaitlin was originally from Hawaii, went to Uni in Missouri and she was staying a few weeks by herself, seeing the sites in Sydney.
After the pizza and beer Sam had an idea and said he would like to take us to a secret bar…
So we left Freddies and went out into the streets, walked down an empty backstreet save for one large man standing outside a plain wooden door. There were no signs mentioning that this door led anywhere in particular.
The man asked us for ID and then we entered what could have been a back door from the kitchen of a restaurant where you’d see the chefs sat outside having a smoke break.
Instead, upon entry, we were greeted by a finely dressed waiter, in black trousers and white collared shirt with pinny over the top and he welcomed us over to the bar.
Rows upon rows of whiskeys could be made out through the dimly lit amber lighting, surrounding the bar were leather backed booths for the sophisticated lady and gentleman customers to unwind in luxury, sipping on exquisite whiskey cocktails. The area was mostly made of wood giving you a feel of being inside one big whiskey barrel.
We took a tall stall each at the bar and inquired with the barman what drink we should try. The experienced mixologist asked us a few questions as to our personal taste preferences: smoky or fruity, bitter or sweet, and so on.
Based on how we answered, he then went about creating personally designed whiskey cocktails. Beautifully presented and delicately balanced I was stunned by how tasty it was. My new friends were also delighted with their drinks and we shared a sip of each others, nodding in agreement, smiling and smacking our lips: these were all fantastic.
Meanwhile a man had appeared sitting on the stall at the bar next to me and he ordered himself a drink. He looked a mixture of Indian and something else, with a dark caramel complexion and dark hair.
I say hello to him and we exchange some small talk. After my whiskey I feel loosened up and chat more freely with this Indian looking guy and then I get into more of a conversation with him than my two other new friends.
Eventually they say they’re going to leave and I say goodbye, thanking them for such a wonderful night. I stay chatting with Manoj at the bar and he mentions his line of work in New York, the million dollar deals he’s involved in, and how he’s enjoying taking a holiday in Sydney.
Then conversation turns to whiskey. He was very knowledgable about the cocktails, explaining to me in detail the differences between whiskeys, the many whiskey bars he’s been to around the world, and his favourite types.
He buys me a drink saying if I liked the one I just had then I should try this one. He was right, I loved it, and quite quickly drained the glass. No sooner had I finished, another drink he suggested for me is ordered and is put in front of me.
Then another one, and another one, and another one and maybe even another one, it’s hard to remember. But I do know every drink I had was fucking amazing; honestly the best drinks I’ve ever tasted.
I really can’t remember the conversation from this point or even how much longer we stayed there, possibly another hour, but at some point, I decided to call it a night.
He inquired as to how I was getting home and offered to walk me back. I was wary of where this was heading as I was quite sure he was gay and I hoped he was not getting me drunk to take advantage of me, so I politely declined saying that I knew where I was and was really fine walking back by myself.
Did I actually know where I was? I didn’t have a fucking clue, but my phone was thankfully still alive so I had google maps to show me.
He asked a few more times to make sure I didn’t want company walking back, and I insisted saying “no, no, no I’m fine, honestly.”
To my delight and relief he let it go and we left the bar. Outside I thank him again for the drinks and his company and he grabs me and throws me in the back of his car and takes me back to his apartment.
JUST JOKING!!
This was not that kind of night, thank God!! It turned out he was a genuinely nice guy and we added each other on Facebook, bid farewell with a hug, and that was it.
I did feel like I had a Sugar Daddy for a night, which felt a bit odd but he seemed happy to pay for me because it sounded like he had quite a bit of cash to throw around and I suppose he enjoyed my company while he was on a holiday by himself.
Free in the night, I head off down the road totally drunk and on top of the world, waltzing around the enchanting foreign city. I noticed a passage to walk down in the general direction of where I reckoned my car to be and holy shit!
The tunnel on the inside was totally covered in crazy, colourful art work!!
I think there was even a travellator like what you get in the airports that pull you along horizontally rather than down like an escalator… but I don’t know, I might have made it up. I felt like I’d been transported to a different world such as The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus.
Then suddenly I was out the other end of the tunnel and my trippy journey to another dimension was behind me. But what do you know? I was right by the car park where I’d parked!
Ecstatic to see Big Birtha there waiting patiently for me, and without any judgement on her part, she welcomed me back to bed.
Before I’d managed to fully take off my clothes, I had passed out in the back of the car, with the makeshift towel curtains not totally drawn, so anyone walking past the next morning would have seen me, a happy camper, drunk on Life…
… and a lot of expensive whiskey.
