This one time, in France, I patriotically upheld the honour of all Australians by beating an American Naval Officer in a vodka drinking competition… Now, I think it should be noted that I’m writing this with a vodka/soda in hand!!
Although my relationship with alcohol has ebbed and flowed over the years, my teenage years saw my ability to withstand copious amounts of vodka without apparent effect, grow to impressive heights… Probably not something I will ever add to my CV but it’s definitely high on the list of impressive skills I have… During the year that I was an Exchange Student in Sweden (insert code for escaping the pain of my previous year...) I was lucky enough to take part in the European Ramble which ostensibly was a cultural tour of 9 countries over 28 days, but in reality was something quite different… We were 48 students from across the globe, who barely knew each other, but for factions within, thrown together in a bus and then told to sleep according to Room Lotto… WTF!? As a teacher, I’ve found myself in similar situations where many reasons make such a decision seem plausible but having been perpetually scarred by my own experiences on this trip, I will NEVER allow any variation of Room Lotto (RL) be used on my camps/excursions/life!! Now, having said that, for the first week of this trip, I was exempt from RL because one of the girls I knew already from Sweden had suffered some kind of seizure on the first night on the boat crossing from Denmark to Germany. I was unaware of the drama ensuing as I was being thoroughly introduced to the delights of Galliano Hot Shots in one of the ship’s many bars. The fact that I was only 17 was irrelevant… Now the “party in your mouth” that is a GHS was the start of my love affair with all coffee-flavoured alcoholic beverages (hello Espresso Martini) but as the bells and whistles announced our impending dock in Germany, I staggered back to my cabin to be greeted by way too many people, including medics surrounding my “friend” who had gauged big holes out of her tongue and lips with her own teeth in her fit. Albeit to say, I was not in a great state to assist her but she still chose me to be her protector until she had recovered. Now to me, this was a strange mix of pride and repression - heart-warming that she thought so much of me but stifling in that I was stuck with her for the foreseeable future, and I didn’t even know her that well!!
This ended badly… Despite managing to get her to join us that first night out in Berlin (now is not the time, but if you want a good story from me, just mention the words “Berlin Hard Rock Cafe”...) she refused to do ANYTHING!! After a week of tending to her every need (she was a needy bitch, that’s for sure!!) and trying my hardest to be sympathetic to her situation, even when she was being a pain in the arse and wouldn’t go out or join the group to do any of the activities, I overheard her telling another group of girls that I was “crowding her and wouldn’t let her have her own space, and she just wanted to have some fun and forget about the whole thing”... I saw red… “OK SUSAN, THAT’S THE WAY YOU WANNA PLAY IT, LET’S DANCE!!” So, her name’s not Susan, but it would suit her better if it was coz it just rolls off the tongue… And on the streets of the magical Salzburg, Austria, home of the iconic “Sound of Music” and old mate Mozart, “Susan” was told… Doesn’t actually matter what she was told, but she was told, and it seems that “Susan” had told all sorts of stories around the bus that week and I gained a whole lot of support that day… That’s the back story to how I ended up being “the chosen one” in our challenge to the American Naval Officers…
Fast forward a week or so to Cannes, France, home to the iconic Cannes Film Festival - a cultural delight known the world over for embodying class and “sopisstication”… And then came us!! I actually have no idea how the whole thing came about - I THINK it was to do with one of my Sydney friends who wanted to hook up with one of the sailors and our groups merged in a lovely little outdoor bar on the main drag. I also have no idea how the bet came around, but pretty soon it was me and Mikey (actually his name - I remember that!!) and the Great Vodka Showdown!! We gathered quite a crowd as this burly sailor was slowly sinking beneath the table at the hands of a dancing Aussie chick who appeared (and I stress APPEARED) to have been little affected by the bottle of straight vodka she’d consumed… They were about to crack the 3rd bottle when Mikey conceded and the roar of my friends, HIS friends, and the crowd, rivalled that of an AFL Grand Final roar!! The night that followed, although the details are sketchy, I do remember as being one of great friendship, the vibe was palpable, both between my friends, and amongst Mikey’s. It was as though something had been forged in that moment and we would forever be united in this memory of bonding and shared experience. The ship that he was sailing on was the USS JFK which was on its final voyage before it was being decommissioned and scuttled the following month. The USS JFK was instrumental in the Gulf War and remains an icon in American Naval history and this final voyage signalled the end of an era for many of the sailors completing their tours. In this moment, Mikey and I shared something like a “proud parents” moment, overlooking our little family and being so proud of what we were a part. And then we realised the time and, like Cinderella escaping before midnight, we took off!!
There were few rules on this trip, but the 2am curfew was a non-negotiable and there was one train left to get me, and my friends, home. Now, they had not consumed an entire bottle of straight vodka in a challenge scenario so most of the others were already on the train when I burst into the station on Mikey’s arm - now, I want to stop here and sing his praises once more… I drank him under the table and yet he never left my side all night, and even in my mad drunken dash to the train, he held my arm and escorted me, Chariot’s of Fire-like, across the tracks (nope, we totally were never going to make it across the foot-bridge) into the waiting arms of my friends, hanging out the moving trains’ doors. That’s a gentleman!! He even attempted to throw me up into the train and between his attempts and the clumsy catching of my friends, I am now the proud bearer of scars across my shins from the impact!! But I made it - I live to tell the tale!! And I live with a lesson about friendship, and what it means to stand beside your friends for something you believe in, for the bond that exists when you live an intense shared experience, and what it means when your friends choose YOU (even if it is for nefarious reasons!!)
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