Drinking and Dancing in Byron Bay By Stephen House

I rarely hit the booze now days. It interferes too much with the day to follow. My morning yoga and beach swim suffers. If I’m rehearsing or performing theatre, the shine dims and pace falls away. It’s an effort to write. And hangovers are horrendous at this age. Why bother?

I’m in Byron Bay right now, visiting my son where he’s living and working. Having a great time, and happy to see him again, after travel was halted for so long by covid. The other night we went out to the pub and had a few beers with some of his mates; laughs, chats, and bar-time fun. He left before me because of an early work start. 

I was ticking over after the drinks, thinking of leaving, and then a fantastic band came on, playing mostly seventies and eighties hits. The place started rocking with everyone dancing wherever they stood. And all ages were into it, from eighteen to eighty I can say. I haven’t seen that for a long time; maybe it’s normal in Byron Bay. I haven’t danced for a long time either.

Another schooner knocked back, and the crowd moving all around me, and a couple about my age who I’d been chatting to at the table next to mine pulled me up as a song by “The Doors” washed over us, and I was up dancing and getting into it, like I use to do so often in younger days.  

Someone asked me a while ago, “What’s one of the things you miss as you get older?” And I said, dancing. And I meant it. I do miss the freedom of going out drinking and getting on the dance floor, and not caring about anything else. And being sixty-two years old, it just doesn’t happen now. I’m rarely in dancing situations.

I took a break and sat for a while as the Byron Bay band played on; and three young surfers walked up to me with a full pint of beer and passed it to me. “Here you are dude, have a drink on us,” one guy said. “We loved watching you dance buddy,” his friend added, “You were going off big time! It was awesome!” I laughed and thanked them for the drink. We high-fived, and they took off.

As I left the pub later in the night the couple who had been sitting near me earlier, and who shared some dance floor fun with me were leaving too. “Hey, see you here next Friday,” the guy said. “Maybe you will,” I replied. And I had a strong inkling that they would.

 

Walking home smiling to myself, I didn’t care about next day consequences from the night out; if my yoga and beach swim suffered or were missed, if I skipped the rehearsal I’d planned to do on a quiet beach in the morning for my upcoming show, or if the hangover to come was a shocker. 

The freedom and fun shared with others back there in the bar would make up for anything I’d have to deal with. I’d had a terrific time drinking and dancing in Byron Bay, making a few new friends and having some laughs. Like the surfers who bought me the complimentary beer said, I was going off big time, and yes, it was awesome. 

Stephen House has won many awards and nominations as a poet, playwright and actor, including two Awgie Awards from The Australian Writer’s Guild, Rhonda Jancovic Poetry Award for Social Justice, an Adelaide Fringe Award, and The Goolwa Poetry Cup, and nominations including, a Greenroom Best Actor Award, Tom Collins Poetry Prize, Patrick White Playwright Award and Queensland Premier’s Drama Award. He’s received several international literature residencies from The Australia Council for the Arts and an Asia-link India residency. His chapbook “real and unreal” was published by ICOE Press. His next book is out soon. He performs his acclaimed monologues widely.