Bundaberg - my first days

I need a visa, so I head to Bundaberg.......

I made the decision to leave the boys in Melbourne and head up to Bundaberg in Queensland, I had been reliably informed that Cellblock backpackers was a good place to get my farm work completed, have a few beers and meet new people (girls more importantly).

I leave a very cold wet Melbourne and fly to Brisbane, a mate of mine (Pagey) collected me from the airport and took me back to his house. We had previously stayed here when we travelled the east coast and both he and his girlfriend Tarryn are awesome hosts.
Curry and a few beers and lots of catching up to do, we talk long in to the night. The next morning I head straight to the station. I collect my ticket and jump on the train. I can now relax for the next 4 hours as we head north to Bundaberg.

Not more than 5 minutes in to the journey and we start to have trouble. A few aboriginals are sat a few seats away and its clear to see they are how can I say..... Smashed out of their tree, blind drunk, in another world!

They start to abuse other passengers and a small child, people ask for the conductor who advises that they will be removed at the next stop. Somehow they managed to stay on until one of them starts to threaten staff. We stop for an hour in a remote station in the middle of god knows where and the police arrive and remove the drunks. This was my first experience of aboriginals and I had been told to keep guard.
Back to sleep!

I wake up and head to the food cart for some dinner, I realise that we have been travelling for some 6 hours – I ask someone why the journey is taking so long and I am told that we stopped as the main locomotive had a fault, we would be arriving soon.

We arrive in Bundaberg and it’s around 9pm (3 hours longer than planned), I have a rough idea where the hostel is and I make my way to the main reception. First impressions are that the hostel is big. It’s located next to the river and resides in a disused police station from the 50’s.

I enter reception and a Canadian dude called Kenny checks me in, he tells me I will be in room 3 and a few people who were stood at the reception desk start to laugh – here we go I think to myself. I enter room 3 and place my bag on my top bunk bed. The room smells of old shoes and I will be dammed if I can make out what the floor is made up of, there is a scattering of clothes, food and condoms – nice!

“Oi” I hear, I look up and there are three half naked lads downing a funnel full of beer. I turn to them and say “Hi what’s up?’ The three lads introduce themselves, Sam, Stu and Little John – “So do you like to drink – Sam says”, “well yea” I reply. “Drop your bag off, get your jeans on and come with us”. I head out to the bar area with the boys and head off to a local bar/club called Central – we get very drunk and I try to make conversation with this very large group of people. The task is slightly daunting but most of them are drunk and the banter flows.
The next morning.......

I wake up to shouting and people clapping at the end of my bed, I sit up and ask “what’s going on”, One of the boys says “you are a hero” I reply with “why, what did I do?”. Timmy, a rather large but awesome Aussie who has been living at the hostel for almost 3 years turns and says “I saw the whole thing – you got off your bunk, headed for the German girls bag, unzipped the top, flopped your John Thomas out and went for a piss. You zipped the bag up and went back to bed”.

I felt terrible, the whole time I have been travelling and the whole time I have been drunk (which was most of the time) I have never done anything like this. It seemed that it didn’t matter, the German girls had left and the boys thought I was a hero. “Looks like you will settle in just fine” says Sam.