Night out in Surry Hills

On a Saturday night, I finally managed to dine at il Barretto in Surry Hills with my friend Isabella. We had a lovely meal and decided to finish the evening with a contreau on ice.

Isabella ruled out the pub opposite the restaurant on Burke St. She told me when she went inside to buy a bottle of wine they had a bloke in there talking to himself while kicking chairs.

Walking to the Clock we decided to give the pub a miss. Crowd too young, too loud. We settled on Forresters, as a compromise. Trendy but not too refurbished. Isabella bagged a table outside while I went in to get the drinks. The crowd was already boisterous, delirious, soaked in alcohol.

A twenty-something bloke let me take his place at the bar calling me “bub”. At least he was gentle.

Glad to settle into my last drink for the evening we spotted a pack of blokes walking into the brothel opposite our pub.

“Why do men always have to travel in packs when they go to a brothel”, Isabella said.

Working in Surry Hills, Isabella told me how she always spots a bunch of blokes in a ute visit the brothel next to her office. This happens almost on a daily basis.

“They’re only in there for a few seconds. They must just get blow jobs,” she said.

She then went to the bathroom, while I sat in my own silence against the loud aggressive cheer of my fellow patrons.

“I love you I love you I love you” a well-dressed bloke behind me said into his mobile phone. As soon as he hung up, he said to his mates,

“Fuck my wife is a fucking moron. She expects me to be home at 11 tonight. Fuck off”

After a good 15 minutes, Isabella returned from the bathroom. The pub only had one ladies toilet and some bird was in their vomiting.

We kept a close watch on our handbags as numerous junkies hopped along on lame legs, many with tiny dogs.

A million bucks would buy you a box in Surry Hills and yet as I said to Isabella, I feel much safer in Marrickville.

Alright we have the junkies, the hoons in their cars and the secret drug deals that go on behind the lanes. But we all say G’day to each other and six hundred thousand can get you a pretty good federation home.

When looking to buy in Marrickville seven years ago, a friend’s husband said to me.

“As long as you know who is fire bombing your car, you have nothing to worry about. Once you know don’t know who fire bombs your car, then you have to start worrying”.