Another ANZAC Day

I suffer no delusions that there is any deficit of consumption of alcohol in America, but I cannot think of any holidays where the primary objective of the occasion is to fill the pubs to capacity and drink huge amounts of beer until you piss down your leg standing in the queue for the toilet. Australia has two such holidays, and I love them.

Kevin conceded to spend this ANZAC Day crawling through Sydney's most historic pub district. The Rocks is a jumbled collection of steep and narrow lanes winding along the cliffs beneath the base of the Harbour Bridge. The site of the first settlement, it remains largely preserved today as a result of being completely ignored during that dreadful period in recent human history where old buildings were considered eye sores and were replaced by lifeless stacks of steel and concrete. Sadly, a few modern buildings have penetrated the district, but for the most part it retains the feel of the past - despite the ever present hiss of espresso makers issuing from over-priced cafes.

As I have noted previously and also mentioned here, aside from the consumption of huge amounts of beer (oh, and paying tribute to service personnel both past and present), one of the highlights of ANZAC Day is wagering on a game of two-up. This year, I decided I needed to investigate this custom further by giving away stacks of five dollar notes to complete strangers. Oddly, it was not as satisfying a past time as I had anticipated, but I am sure my conclusion would have been different had I instead been receiving stacks of five dollar notes from complete strangers. Nonetheless, the whole ritual is decidedly amusing.

At the Australian Hotel, the game of two-up is refereed by a man posing as the Pillsbury Dough Boy. He selects a volunteer from the audience to toss two commemorative pennies off a specially designed stick into the air. The tosser (wait, that's not what they are called, is it?) helps whip the crowd into a gambling frenzy by alternately pointing at his or her head or tail, the latter being more effective if the tosser is a well formed female. Wagers that the toss will result in two heads up are made by holding a fistful of dollars and slapping oneself on the head. To wager on tails, one must scan the crowd for someone slapping their own head with the same amount of money one wishes to wager. The wagers are held by the person who calls heads, so being able to remember and recognize a total drunken stranger is clearly the part of the contest that requires actual skill. I think one can make a pretty good fortune simply by looking incredibly ordinary and slipping off into the crowd before the toss. I also suspect that this is what leads to broken noses.

Once sufficient wagers are laid, the coins are tossed and the result called by the Pillsbury Dough Boy. If the coins should land one heads and one tails, the crowd erupts with an emotional round of booing. If a bad toss occurs three times in a row, the tosser must pay penance with ten push ups. Damn, my battery ran out before the midget lady in red high heel boots made ten bad tosses in a row!!

Having soon become disenchanted with giving away my money, I turned my attention instead to my favorite part of the ANZAC Day celebrations: men in skirts. Sorry, if I had realized the band was playing Australia's Un-Official National Anthem, I wouldn't have cut the video short. I guess if you are Australian, you can recognize Waltzing Matilda in a any form, especially since it is such a good excuse to sing off key at the top of one's lungs.

As usual, the evening degenerated into a fit of bad Lomography, the results of which I will spare you, save for this one which I particularly liked for no good reason.

UPDATE: This silly picture just arrived in my in-box. I am a such a face-maker. Good thing I do not take myself very seriously!