Drunk girls in heels and dresses the size of handkerchiefs. Queues everywhere. Clearly, the idea of ducking down to the Viaduct for a drink had not been a particularly sound one, even at 1am. Town was festively busy and everyone, it seemed, was munted in one way or another.
Still, I'd rather have it this way than let Gordon bloody Moller fill up the waterfront with yet more residential apartments for rich white people.
My homies, Phil and Renee, and I were in the area for B-Street, the bFM party. B-Street, a musical extravaganza across four downtown venues in celebration of the bNet Awards, was a great idea, well marketed and nicely produced - and thus, a bit of a victim of its own success. More people turned up to party than could be accommodated in the four venues.
We made the mistake of leaving the main venue, the Northern Steamship Company, after Voom played (and I surrendered all inhibition and sang along to 'Beth'). The venue management got the hard word from the police - who were looking mighty antsy about the crowd outside - and basically shut the doors. We tried the stagedoor blag, along with the managers of RDU and Radio One, but there was no having it.
I tried to convince Phil that if he could create a dsturbance and attract the attention of the bouncer, the rest of us could take advantage of the melee and slip in the door. He wasn't too keen. I tried waving my business card and saying I was a member of the bFM board at the other door, which the bouncer there seemed to find amusing but unpersuasive. Posing as a member of the Mint Chicks didn't seem very credible.
So we missed the Mint Chicks, and we never got into the Schooner Tavern - another ram dancehall - all night.
But we did have fun: how could we not? We talked bollocks to friend and stranger alike. We saw SJD (crunching version of 'From A to B and Back to C'), the Nudie Suits, who are still charming, and the DHDFDs, who were riotous, and after finding succour - and a booth! - at Deschlers, we headed back over to catch State of Mind. The room was full of bug-eyed kids dancing a million miles an hour: typical drum and bass gig, in other words, and fun with it. And then it was very late and time to go home.
I also saw Rob O'Neill twice, but we passed as ships in the night. Had we been able to converse, he might have told me about this thing in his blog about new Australian Labour leader Kevin Rudd discussing "the difference between neoliberal God Hayek and Adam Smith, whom both social democrats and conservatives claim as inspiration." Crikey.
You may be interested to note that Stuart Page has uploaded that clip for the Skeptics' 'A.F.F.C.O.' and I've linked to it in our OurTube section.
Also there, Simon Dallow and that controversial kiss.
Harry Hutton is funny (as usual) about the 2006 Weblog Awards - or, as he prefers to think of it, the North American Champion Bore Awards. Really, a contest of excellence where the pathological trash heap that is Little Green Footballs can grab a third of the vote and nearly win has its problems …
And, finally, do please all pitch in and cast your vote for our 2006 Word of the Year. You might even win a nice bottle of single malt from our friends at Whisky Galore.