The place reeked of Americans. I'm telling you that right now. Tourists. They were everywhere. With their straw hats and khaki short, man, it was odious. Yeah, I guess I was a tourist, too, but not like them. Anyway, we spent most of our time at Surfers, appropriately, on the beach. I really don't think we could have done much more with the place.
It was just afflicted with tourists.
We could have done the theme park tour, but that just ain't me. I'm done with that stuff. So Melvin and I hit the beach. Man, let me tell you, the second day was frustrating. We rented surfboards, because, c'mon, how can you not go to Surfers' Paradise and not surf? And the surfing was just awful. The waves were tricky, coming from different directions and in bunches, and my board was as slippery as our front steps in Ann Arbor after an ice storm. I might have gotten up on the board once. Once! I felt all the progress I had made at surf camp dissipate. Just like that. It was frustrating, no doubt about it. I washed away my tribulations with some pizza and a milk shake and looked forward to the bus ride to Byron Bay.
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