[Day 59] Noosa / One Night in Brisbane

The blog's way behind, so we caste the final 3 weeks of Australia into a series of cannonballs. Now we're going to BOOM fire em at your face!

From Fraser we bussed it to wealthy Noosa. Mellow beach vibe but the surf was garbage. Don't think I'll ever return intentionally. Irrelevant place despite it was the jump off for Brisbane StereoSonic...

Back in Rainbow beach.
Brado is scanning his favorite artists on myspace; the dj duo Crookers, pioneers of the genre 'fidget house' aka 'ghetto tech,' is spinning Brisbane in 2 days, and we'll be in Noosa just 2 hours away! Research the venue: a festival with huge international acts like Carl Cox, Tommy Sunshine, Midnight Juggernauts, Dave Nada, and Booka Shade. Holy crap buy tickets right away don't even consider accomodation. Hell, Brisbane is Australia's 3rd largest city!

An all night greyhound brings us to Noosa 8am day of festival. Gotta find some Brisbane beds. Hop on computers only to discover that every hostel in the city is booked! That night, both world cup rugby and a world cup cricket are playing in the city. We either A) trash the tickets or B) roll the dice, see a handful of awesome electro talent, stay up all night, and catch the first greyhound back to Noosa at 7am; a.k.a., go on a big adventure. Discussion. Brado offers intelligent, logical, real input while I'm hopping around overexcited filled with adrenaline. We both love the music so much. Bus to Brisi leaves in 45. Festival starts in 3 hours. LET'S DO IT! Stash our bags with 2 lovely Germans met on the Greyhound. With nothing but wallets and the spirit of Australia we rush to the station.

Pull into Brisi at 1130am. Walk to a nearby cafe and print the tickets. Lady at the front says a storm is supposed to hit. Recent ones detroyed several buildings, killed 2 people, and ripped the roofs off her neighboring apartments, so we should be warry of flying tin metal. Good gawd what are we getting into! Grin and chuckle nervously to nobody at all. We're about to see our favorite artists and gaul force winds may hit, winds that killed people and pummled monolithic skyscrapers. That nutty soundbite from 'Black Man' by St. Germaine comes to mind.


Hunger hits like a firetruck. Big macs fuel. Grub and rush to the trainstation. Hop off and rush to the fairgrounds. A deep droning bassline hollers from the heavens. Beautiful 20-somethings swarm a streetside liquor vendor. We shamble on with wind howling in our eyes. Oh shit. We get to the entrance and the place is J-A-M-M-I-N-G. People are dressed like smurfs, santas, dinosaurs, pumpkins, lifeguards, and whores. We're taken back at how beautiful everyone is. Back in the states, the attendees of electro festivals are mostly drugged out goobers. But Aussies dig this stuff and everyone's georgous. The dudes are muscled to the fingernail. Girls are amazing, I mean drop dead gorgeous, and wearing next to nothing. Our jaws drop and our heads spin around then fall off bouncing to the booming beat of Dave Nada. He gets on the Mic and starts pumping everyone up then all hell breaks loose. Its 1 o'clock.


The day escalates with insanity. A few hours of raging and we find an oak tree to rest our gelatin legs. Beside us are 2 locals slamming beer and wine coolers. One is wearing a psychedelic elmo trucker hat and zebra leg warmers. Her companion looks normal until he stands up and skips to the bar like a techno fairy. The girl strikes up conversation. Wonderful music festival addict. The guy returns; name's John and he's hilarious. Chat for a bit and right when we describe our sleepless intention, he insists on showing proper Aussie partying. He extends invitations to his penthouse afterparty and couches for us to crash. Life's got a crazy way of working out!

We all party for hours then find an open patch of grass and I lie back bobbling in the boom. Meet a few more locals. Its ridiculous how popular the shows 'Laguna Beach' and 'The Hills' are. People dream of moving to Orange County. Just mentioning that I'm from SoCal draws attention. We rock out til 1030pm then pour into the streets with the rest of the Brisbane youth. It's Saturday night. Chic clubgoers abound and we're dead tired sunburned dressed in singlets and shorts. Call up John and he invites over to his friends hotel room to chill. We arrive and this girl is watching America's Wildest Police Chases. She expounds the benevolence of Australia and how crazy America is, how everyone carries a gun there. We don't yell at her, but rather humbly point out the possibility that her information may be slightly biased considering it is based on a show explicitly premised on uniquly dangerous situations. And her rebuttal includes examples from Cops and The OC. We leave the room to joke with the rest on the patio. She really was quite nice. Return and she's watching her favorite show: Desparate Housewives. Wow. Sleep on the carpet, Bradon on the couch.

3am. Her boyfriend gets off work and we get the boot. Johns long gone and we dont feel like hiring a cab to his lavish apartment. Oh the frugal life of backpacking. Wander the slamming streets til 4am then find ourselves at the train station. An ageless bearded hobo woman who smells of old milk keeps mumbling nonsense at me. Gotta keep switching benches. Pass out in McDonalds. Eventually we ride the train back to central station and return to Noosa feeling like lumpy sour yogurt. Crookers? Booka Shade? Unexpected adventure on the otherside of the globe? Thank you sir may I have another.