I’m now in Tennant Creek, slap-bang in the centre of Oz. I work in the Food Barn Butchery. It’s my trade since completing an apprenticeship in Armidale. Neville’s idea – “Get something solid behind you for the future, son!” I also work in Tennant Creek, ’cause my nutty mum likes it that way, ’cause then I’ll be close to her.
There’s not a whole lot goin’ on in Tennant Creek, unless you’re into a life of drinking and that’s pretty much what I do. What we get is red dust and spinifex, and heat that burns you to a crisp, if you stay out in it too long. Not too many nice chicks in Tennant Creek, either, ’cos all the nice ones are taken. That gets you thinkin’ about the Gold Coast, and other cool destinations where you slip on some Calvin Klein’s, and go see what you can find.
It’s the twenty-first of December 2005, the day I call the first day. Ideas are bubbling. The idea being tossed around by Hannah Moran and Liam Kruytbosch, Mum’s “colleagues” at the Tennant Creek School where she teaches English, is to go for a holiday to Kiribati. I think maybe Liam came up with the idea. He just goes for it ’cause he and Hannah are wild about each other and plan on getting married real soon. It’s like a honeymoon before getting hitched. I don’t understand. Why be married when there are so many hot chicks walking around? They say, “What could be better to celebrate the event than visiting a genuine piece of Pacific paradise?” Mum is hot on the idea, because she’ll be able to show off, and visit relations and old chums.
My plan is to join up with them in Kiribati ’cause I want to pay a pre-Christmas visit to Neville in Armidale. After that, I can plane it to Brisbane, and we will all meet up in Kiribati. Am I travelling too fast? I don’t want to miss anything; I want to make all those fascinating connections, including the foul-ups, the damn fool things we do when there’s a whole lot goin’ down. I have only one thing in mind, and that’s to pick up my swag of duty-free grog, and rock up to a wild New Year’s Eve party in Tarawa, the Kiribati capital. I plan to wear my flash gear and, because I’m a little exotic, coming from the mainland, the cool chicks will go crazy over me. They probably will, ay?
The first mistake is Mum and I driving to Armidale non-stop. Check your map, and you’ll see it’s more than a hop-step-and-jump. Mum isn’t keen on goin’ non-stop. She still treats me like a ten year old. Everything I do goes through mother’s grinder. Hell, am I not a grown man? I have my own driver’s licence. I vote for whom I like. I don’t have to trail after her, be monitored like a six year old just out of his crib. I’m grown up! I can even last a dozen rounds with Tyson!
These are a few of the reasons I’m not booked on the same plane as Mum and her “colleagues”, because I want to make my own decisions. Besides, it’s Christmas, and I should stay with Neville for at least a couple of days. At least drop in, and say, “Happy Christmas, mate!” before pissing off to Kiribati.
So we arrive, and I creep into Neville’s bedroom wearing a silly grin on my face. Neville’s not expecting us at this hour, of course. I give a loud whisper, ‘Hey, Nev, mate! G’day!’ Neville stirs, and then sits bolt upright in fright. The look on his face is something to imagine. He rubs his eyes in a half-dream state, and mistakes me for a ghost at the foot of his bed.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?”
“I decided to do it non-stop.”
“You crazy young bastard! That’s a damn-fool thing to do!”
Later in the morning, Mum catches the bus for Brisbane airport, where she’s to meet up with her “colleagues”. I’m scheduled to fly out a few of days later.