AN UNFORGETTABLE EXPERIENCE....ONE OF MANY....

 

Various Angles of the Regatta Hotel, Toowong, Brisbane

Somewhere early in the year of 1975...

Thank God it was Friday!   It’d been a long day, and busy week in the office. 

Around 6.45pm I walked into the unit, kicked off my shoes, and plopped myself down onto the sofa.  Smocka, my beautiful grey cat jumped up on my lap eager to tell me about his day, while Sasha, my equally beautiful ginger cat waited his turn at my side. 

The welcome silence and peace were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.

“Honey! Can you come to the pub as soon as you can? Most of my staff haven’t turned up. I need your help...urgently!” Randall pleaded on the other end of the telephone.   

(Randall, my now late ex-husband, as I’ve previously written, had arrived back in Queensland, from New York, a few months previously...in late November, 1974).

“But, Randall…I’ve never pulled a beer in my life!  It’s Friday night! My God! It’s going to be bedlam city down there tonight!” I spluttered in reply.

"You can do it! I know you can do it! There’s no one else I can call this late in the day! C’mon, sweetie! Please, I’m in dire straits here!”

In for a penny, in for a pound! I figured I had nothing to lose other than my pride, my dignity, face, and my sense of humour...all in one evening!

Quickly changing into a pair of stylish jeans, a fresh top, and comfortable shoes, I raced down to the Regatta Hotel, (by foot, not by car...Randall had the car).

The Regatta Hotel where Randall was working as Bar Manager, a position he’d gained shortly after his return to our fair shores, was/is down along Sylvan Road...on the corner of Sylvan Road and Coronation Drive...across the Drive flows the Brisbane River.  It was not very far from the unit in which we lived in Cadell Street, Toowong, an inner-western suburb of Brisbane.

I arrived right on the dot of seven.  I could change faster than Superman could, and I was fleet of foot back in those days!

The place, of course, was a-buzz with Friday night revellers. I had no time to think about what I was letting myself into and, vice-versa, for the unsuspecting clientele!

Randall pointed me in the direction of the lounge bar, and of the cash register both of which would be mine for the evening. He then left, to return to the public bar, wishing me luck.

 Luck! I felt I needed bucket loads of it plus more. 

If I could have found a hole in which to hide, there I would have been in a flash, but before I could dwell on my personal plight, across the bar were what appeared to me to be hundreds of eager, thirsty people, all of whom were holding out hands of cash, as they pushed and shoved eager and impatient to be served.  The pleading looks in their eyes were like a scene out of a horror movie. Ignore them I could not.

Friday nights in the large lounge bar of the Regatta Hotel, Toowong, one of the most popular hotels in Brisbane, as expected were hectic; and, there I was, that Friday night on the wrong side of the bar, as far as I was concerned!

All around me quickly became a blur. One face blended into the other. The laughter and noise of the ever-growing crowd increased in volume as the evening progressed.

Beer flowed freely.  With little choice other than to do so, quickly, I managed to stem the flow pouring from the beer taps to the glasses I filled!  Myriad mixed drinks splashed in their glasses like surging waves.

Every so often, when able to do so, Randall wandered into the lounge bar from the public bar to see how I was progressing.  I didn’t have time other than to nod at him, recognizing him vaguely as someone I should know.  I’m sure the whites of my eyes displayed clearly how I was feeling.  But, onward I forged...pouring, and mixing!

A patron came up to the bar.  From me he ordered eight mixed beverages, all different, of course.  I felt like choking him!

A while later I noticed he was heading back for refills. I pretended not to see him.

“You’re ignoring me, aren’t you?” He said with a knowing smile on his face.

“Yes, I am. How did you guess?” I replied, half-smilingly. “I won’t be a moment.”

Fortunately, he was of good humour, and sensitivity.  He understood the pressure I was under.

Closing time loomed. The thirst of the patrons heightened. Panic began to set in for last drinks. The air was electric. The pressure was tangible.

Voices from the verandah overlooking the bottle shop rose above the wave of noisy heads. Any moment I expected trouble. Unfortunately, my expectation was correct.

Someone looked cross-eyed at someone else, and blows ensued.

 I asked one of the customers to get Randall.

 A couple of tables were upturned in the melee. A few soft punches thrown as some spectators cheered on.  Muhammad Ali or Joe Frazier they weren't.  Even paper bags would have been safe.

At the bar, I kept mixing drinks and pouring final beers. The end of my shift arrived.

The ruckus had settled down. The two culprits who started the fray quickly decided neither one was worth the trouble..and on their separate ways they went, hopefully feeling the worse for wear in the morning!

The rest of the customers finished their last drinks before heading off to wherever they were headed off to.

In the meantime, my heart was pounding, not from the “rumble in the jungle”, but from what the tally of my cash register would be at the end of the night.

Fearing the worst, expecting my register to be way out when I totalled it, I broke out in a cold sweat.  At the last minute, without prior warning or bar experience, I’d been thrown into the deep end, not knowing the prices when I began the night.

Gingerly, I waited as Mrs. Milo, the wife of the hotel manager counted my cash register’s takings.

Turning to me, Mrs. Milo said. “I don’t know what you’re worrying about, Lee. You’re eleven cents over!”

My “end of shift” drink was most welcome. I sighed with relief.  I couldn't believe my luck...and luck it must have been that my register was over...not under!

The night certainly had been a rude, swift introduction into the bar industry. What an initiation it was!

It was the last time I helped out at the Regatta Hotel. My adrenalin still raged when back at home.  Randall and I sat recapping the evening’s events over a couple of scotches.  It took a couple of Johnny Walker Blacks on the rocks for me to relax!