Pre-corona era memories: George's wild night on the Gold Coast part 2 – "Saturday night – no social distancing!"

View from level 8 of Manta-on-View Hotel in Surfers Paradise

Long title, but we’re in complex times. As I typed this I could hear the title as a voiceover for a horror movie trailer. It’s strange thinking that just over a month ago, when George and I were in the midst of a crush of people waiting for a bus home from the Queen concert on the Gold Coast, we hadn’t yet heard the term “social distancing”. George, who had said the previous night was the wildest night he’d ever had”, bestowed that honour on tonight.

After George had his little scare from the yahoos yahooing in their car the night before, we got back to our hotel room and calmed down by turning on the TV to watch Music Max Mardi Gras mix, George was all “What IS this?” And I was all “This is disco!”

There was Gloria Gaynor’s I will survive (my karaoke song, I explained), there was the Village People’s Macho Man, and there was Queen with Don’t stop me now, a perfect prelude to the show we would see the next night.

We woke on Saturday morning and had breakfast at our hotel, Mantra-on-View, which had given us “two-for-one” breakfast buffet vouchers. At almost 12, George still just scraped in as a “child” so that meant a breakfast buffet for two for $20 total. The food was amazing! I do love a well-priced breakfast buffet.

Nothing says “hotel breakfast buffet” like potato gems and pork buns!

The weather was perfect (something under 30 and sunny) and we were keen to hit Surfers Paradise beach. Apart from the previous night, this was my first time on Gold Coast sand. When I’d visited Surfers Paradise 25 years ago, It was all about the night life rather than the surf life.

After googling box jelly fish just to make sure they didn’t travel this far down the QLD coast, checking for any beach warning signs in place, we headed to the yellow and red flags. The water temperature was magnificent.

“Hey, remember in early 2020 when we could still go to the beach?”

George loved the surf. He’s getting much more confident in it, so I still need to yell exactly what my mother used to yell at me: “Don’t go too far out! That’s too far! come back!” George encouraged me to go under the waves, something I used to do when I was a kid. “What do you think our guinea pigs would do if they were in the surf?” George asked. They’d probably drown we agreed.

We stayed in until the dark storm clouds further down the coast rolled up and started raining right above us. We ran back to our hotel, a five-minute dash away.

We were lucky the rain had cleared up in time for the concert.

We got into the lift and two older gentlemen asked us how the water was. We got chatting and discovered they’d driven up from Port Macquarie that morning to see Queen as well. They were able to tell me all about the free public transport that was on for concert-goers. Roads were to be closed off and car traffic was discouraged.

As we walked down to the Surfers Paradise streets to grab a snack and have a look around. Concert time was getting closer.

“What happens if Brian May suddenly gets arthritis and can’t play his guitar?” asked my little over-thinker. I replied it’s unlikely he’d suddenly get it, if it was a pre-existing condition he’d have injections before the show.

“What happens if one of them has a heart attack on stage?”Hopefully they won’t and probably not, I reassured him.

Dinner with a view

After an early room-service pizza dinner on our hotel balcony at 5pm, we caught a tram across the road down to Broadbeach, where we would then get on free shuttle buses to Metricon Stadium at Carrara. It was a beautiful evening and everyone was excited.

Although none of the coronavirus restrictions existed at the time, we were still aware of it as a potential danger. I told George we had to use our hand sanitiser after getting off the very crowded bus.

“What do you think our guinea pigs would do if they were on this bus?” George asked. They’d probably have a heart attack we agreed.

The concert was due to start at 8pm and gates opened at 6pm. George was detemined to get to the venue at 6pm, to make sure he could get a Queen tour T-shirt before they all sold out. Lucky we got there early because the queues to get into the gates were long. Since my bag was bigger than A4 size, it had to be cloaked. And I left my hand sanitiser in there!

The prized possession

We lined up at the T-shirt stand and met a girl George’s age in the queue, as well as a 6-year-old mini-Freddie Mercury (with his mum). He was the cutest little pale-skinned red-haired 6-year-old, complete with fake black moustache, dressed exactly like Freddie at 1985’s Live Aid concert.

We found our seats that were just up up up, so high in the sky, but we could see everything. We enjoyed the energy of being amongst 40,000 people. It was exciting. I don’t know if I’ll ever experience that again now that we’re in corona times.

It was fun watching the stadium fill with people.

It was exciting see the Mexican wave start at the other side of the stadium, and roll steadily, determinedly and unstoppably towards us, like the waves on Surfers Paradise beach. Or an impending Coronavirus outbreak.

It seemed to be a purple reign… I wonder what Prince would’ve thought?

The concert was amazing. Adam Lambert, although not Freddie Mercury, was a good substitute. He has a strong voice, suitably engages with the audience, and is a flamboyant performer. Sufficiently humble, he said he knows he could never replace Freddie. I was thrilled to hear Brain May and Roger Taylor play. They are amazing musicians and performers, and I appreciate it more knowing these are men in their early 70s. The highlight for me, was head-banging to Bohemian Rhapsody with George. That was up there with one of the most perfect moments of my life. We sang along to almost everything. We both absolutely loved it and I’m so happy we went.

“What do you think the guinea pigs would do if they were in this stadium?” I asked George. “Mum, that’s enough talk about the guinea pigs!”

Phone lights turned the stadium into a field of electric flowers

After an exhilarating 2.5 hour show, it was an exhausting 2.5 hour journey back to our hotel room. Queen performed from 8pm until 10.30pm after a We will rock you encore. We watched people start to leave before the show was over. When we finally got to the stadium exit, we were confused over which cloaking tent my bag was in. We moved in a slow-flowing river of people, found the tent thanks to George and grabbed my bag which he said he had never been so happy to see. But our troubles getting get back to our hotel had not even begun.

We saw a sign with the name of our stop and the bus stand number. We then stood still in a crush of people for an hour. Buses kept coming and collecting people but the throng didn’t seem to dissipate. People were coughing. A couple sneezed. I had fleeting moments of mild anxiety about the threat of coronavirus wafting around – it emerged a couple of days later that a Gold Coast beautician who’d just returned from overseas and tested positive for COVID-19 had treated 40 clients in a shopping centre not too far from where we were.

By 11.30pm, we were now at least in an actual line – an excruciatingly slow-moving line that snaked around barricades to get to the bus stop, with my very tired almost-12-year-old leaning against me. When we finally got onto a bus, everyone was so relieved, it gave us a new energy.

Once back at Broadbeach, we shuffled our way onto a light rail carriage back to Surfers Paradise where we stood up and hung on. A few people had children asleep in their arms. When our light rail stopped at Cavill Avenue, the “party” street, about 20 young people in hospital scrubs got on the light rail next to us. I was horrified to realise these young medical students/interns partied in their scrubs; what if they had corona germs?! I know they probably didn’t, but that’s where my mind goes. I knew the tram was headed back to Gold Coast University Hospital, where there were a couple of corona patients. It was all too much for one o’clock in the morning.

We got off the light rail and stumbled to our hotel across the road. Back in the room, relieved, I turned on late night music TV and we ate the ice creams I’d stashed in our little freezer compartment earlier. Only less than 6 hours till we had to be up to make our way back to Brisbane. But at least we had another buffet breakfast to wake up to.

George’s wild weekend on the Gold Coast: Part 1 “Friday night”.

A Cavill-cade of lights and colour on Cavill Avenue

My son George is just about to turn 12, so the night wasn’t that wild. But since he saw and did things he never had before, it was pretty wild to him. G and I have spent the past two weekends in Queensland, going back to Canberra during the week for work and school.

The first weekend was for my brother-in-law’s wedding in Brisbane (more on that in a later post). I’ll start from the most recent visit which was a trip to the Gold Coast to take G to see Queen (+ Adam Lambert). I’d booked the Queen tickets last April as a surprise for his 12th birthday.

He actually knew about the Queen bit but he didn’t know it was on the Gold Coast (because by the time I’d booked I could not get two seats together at the Sydney shows. I though a surprise trip to the Goldie would be fun! Little did I know that Uncle Leo would propose to the Divine Miss A and that their wedding would be in Brisbane the week before our Gold Coast trip! But not one to complain, I sucked up two weekends in a row in the not-too shabby South East Queensland.

We arrived at our Surfer’s Paradise hotel on the train from Brisbane at 7pm (also partly via a chauffer-driven Mercedes – that was not an Uber -which I accidentally booked, but that’s another blog post), then got ready to go out to dinner at a burger joint called Milky Lane. We walked down the Esplanade to Cavill Ave, a hive of lights, fast-food joints of every kind, souvenir shops, and all kinds of people. We even saw four bicycle-riding men dressed as super-heros. George looked around in awe.

Not Milky Lane…but Friday Night lights!

We finally made it to Milky Lane just before 8pm, and I momentarily worried about the loud music – how would my middle-aged ears and his pre-teen ears cope with this music that was too loud for us to talk – oh well perhaps we’d just get used to it – the 20-somethings in booths didn’t seem to mind. But thankfully we were led to a slightly quieter dining area down the back.

After some time studying the menu, I let George order the “Kevin Bacon” despite my better judgement. I felt he really should’ve gone for the kids burger, at half the size and half the price. The Kevin Bacon in all it’s greasy and meat/cheese laden glory arrived and two bites later he’d finished with it.

Well hello Kevin

I ordered the Chic-Kanye. This was a spicy chicken burger that was almost too hot to handle. I now realise we should’ve ordered one burger between us. In fact, the fries and vanilla milkshake (and wine for me) probably would’ve been enough. But still, all the important food groups were represented – there was a Cos lettuce leaf on one of the meat patties, right there next to the melted cheese.

All the food groups were represented, almost.

Despite the huge dinner, there was room for an ice-cream from Baskin Robins (separate stomach for dessert) “I never do this!” I said to an older woman who was looking at my honeycomb icrecream with whipped cream on top as we left the shop. “No, of course not, that’s what holidays are for! Start again on Monday” she said comfortingly. How did she know that’s exactly how I roll (not literally).

Pretty

After picking up a pair of thongs in a souvenir shop (I’d forgotten to pack/remind George to pack his thongs) we checked out the beachfront night markets, stalls of tasty treats and gifts.

As the beach is quite narrow, so close to the Esplanade, and well lit from the street lights, we ventured on to the sand and tested the water. It was the perfect temperature. George discovered what he was sure was a box jellyfish on the sand, but after googling it later back in the hotel room, I was pretty sure it was a normal jellyfish (boxes aren’t usually found south of Gladstone).

Dark: Just dipped our toes in
Not a box jellyfish

Then it was time to head back to our hotel. As we were waiting to cross the Esplanade, a car with four youths (hoodlums, my mum would say) drove past with the windows down and one of them suddenly squawked something unintelligible. It made George jump.

“Well, this has been the wildest night I’ve ever had!” he said. And I reckon he’s right. So far. I pushed thoughts of a future Schoolies week out of my head.

Next time: Part 2 “Saturday Night”

Have you ever had a wild night in Surfer’s Paradise? I did in 1995, looooong after I’d finished high school. I don’t think it was really that wild though. And I never went to Schoolies.