Article by William - Sydney Morning Herald - October 7, 2006
The Speedos days are over for my personal surface paradise;
WILLIAM McINNES
Sydney Morning Herald
10-07-2006
SCHOOL holidays. You know it's the school holidays when certain things are noted. Just like the turn of the seasons, things happen - a leaf falling, the first frost on the ground, or in the case of school holidays, you fully understand and comprehend what has become of you when you find yourself in the Gold Coast hinterland and hear your wife say, "You are not wearing them. You can't wear them."
Wear what? I waddle out from the change rooms of a water theme park with my middle-aged indulgence barely covered in my Speedos. Or perhaps I should say that my Speedos were almost completely covered by my middle-aged indulgence. I had thought, for a moment, that with a bit of creative gut-sucking I might be able to get away with them. These are essential skills that any going-to-seed actor is well acquainted with. Thirty years ago I might have succeeded but no, not today.
My son looked at me with a mixture of pity and deep concern. "You are not trying to do your Mario Milano thing are you?" he mutters, looking around the crowded room.
He has never seen Mario Milano, but when he was a lot younger I used to entertain him at swimming lessons with my high-hitched impersonations of the great wrestling hero of my childhood. I laugh and grip the top of my Speedos and clap my hands.
"Oh Dad, don't." he says and laughs.
Even the most self-deluded ham knows as he peers into the bright sun he must accept the point made.
"Yes," I say to my wife, "You're right."
I make a dash to the park shop and there find other porky, blank- gazed men about my age huddled around a stand selling more appropriate garb. Baggy black shorts. "One size fits all!" says one of our band breathlessly.
Suitably attired I am ready to make a big splash. SOONER or later thousands of people seem to head to this part of Australia for a school holiday break. Usually it is the winter break. And usually it's the Gold Coast. It was always a bit different, the Gold Coast. Always a place where tackiness and opportunity were rife. The place dubbed "Surface Paradise". The place of blood-curdling high-rise apartments that shriek to the skies.
"How could you live in a place like this?" says one of my newly baggy-shorted friends, who had sensibly covered up his violent lime Speedos.
How could you? Well, perhaps you couldn't. But hundreds of thousands cannot bear not to visit.
It is Australia's corner of "Worlds". A strip of theme parks and resorts designed to make holidays easier. The land of the tourist dollar; of unbridled development and pursuit of the dollar. And school holidays are one of the pinnacles of that pursuit.
SCHOOL holidays. There will always be organisation that crumbles and bookings that go west and deals that seemed much better when you read them in the coloured brochures. These are things that are a part of life. But what is also a part of life is that unique wonderfulness of when moments are just fun and joyous. And you never know where you will find them.
For a place that is so attuned to the idea being body-conscious, this theme park on the Gold Coast was an oasis of acceptance and commonality. All shapes and sizes heaved and ran and shot around the complex, swept along by the elemental joy of water.
At a time of drought and water restrictions it may seem wanton to shoot along fibreglass tubes and scream in delight and howl like extras in some demented disaster movie and simply play in water. But it is a lot of daggy, wonderful fun. It's the school holidays and families and friends and strangers all shriek and laugh together.
I heave along with my giggling children and I feel that joy of skitting across wet concrete by a pool. I feel the hardness on my feet, and I shiver a little as I flick water beads at my kids. The years slip away and I crash headlong into the sensations my childhood while I share those of my children's.
I hear a voice. Another park patron says: "Excuse me ... you were in Look Both Ways?"
I say I was and think about dredging up the Actor's Gut Suck No.5. He says how much he loved the film, and then asks: "What are you doing now?"
I am about to give a rundown of what I have been doing professionally. But then I remember. I give up the gut-sucking and let rip a yell. "I'm going back on the Tornado!" My children yell their agreement as we run off.
Hey, it's the school holidays. And it's fun.
WILLIAM McINNES
Sydney Morning Herald
10-07-2006
SCHOOL holidays. You know it's the school holidays when certain things are noted. Just like the turn of the seasons, things happen - a leaf falling, the first frost on the ground, or in the case of school holidays, you fully understand and comprehend what has become of you when you find yourself in the Gold Coast hinterland and hear your wife say, "You are not wearing them. You can't wear them."
Wear what? I waddle out from the change rooms of a water theme park with my middle-aged indulgence barely covered in my Speedos. Or perhaps I should say that my Speedos were almost completely covered by my middle-aged indulgence. I had thought, for a moment, that with a bit of creative gut-sucking I might be able to get away with them. These are essential skills that any going-to-seed actor is well acquainted with. Thirty years ago I might have succeeded but no, not today.
My son looked at me with a mixture of pity and deep concern. "You are not trying to do your Mario Milano thing are you?" he mutters, looking around the crowded room.
He has never seen Mario Milano, but when he was a lot younger I used to entertain him at swimming lessons with my high-hitched impersonations of the great wrestling hero of my childhood. I laugh and grip the top of my Speedos and clap my hands.
"Oh Dad, don't." he says and laughs.
Even the most self-deluded ham knows as he peers into the bright sun he must accept the point made.
"Yes," I say to my wife, "You're right."
I make a dash to the park shop and there find other porky, blank- gazed men about my age huddled around a stand selling more appropriate garb. Baggy black shorts. "One size fits all!" says one of our band breathlessly.
Suitably attired I am ready to make a big splash. SOONER or later thousands of people seem to head to this part of Australia for a school holiday break. Usually it is the winter break. And usually it's the Gold Coast. It was always a bit different, the Gold Coast. Always a place where tackiness and opportunity were rife. The place dubbed "Surface Paradise". The place of blood-curdling high-rise apartments that shriek to the skies.
"How could you live in a place like this?" says one of my newly baggy-shorted friends, who had sensibly covered up his violent lime Speedos.
How could you? Well, perhaps you couldn't. But hundreds of thousands cannot bear not to visit.
It is Australia's corner of "Worlds". A strip of theme parks and resorts designed to make holidays easier. The land of the tourist dollar; of unbridled development and pursuit of the dollar. And school holidays are one of the pinnacles of that pursuit.
SCHOOL holidays. There will always be organisation that crumbles and bookings that go west and deals that seemed much better when you read them in the coloured brochures. These are things that are a part of life. But what is also a part of life is that unique wonderfulness of when moments are just fun and joyous. And you never know where you will find them.
For a place that is so attuned to the idea being body-conscious, this theme park on the Gold Coast was an oasis of acceptance and commonality. All shapes and sizes heaved and ran and shot around the complex, swept along by the elemental joy of water.
At a time of drought and water restrictions it may seem wanton to shoot along fibreglass tubes and scream in delight and howl like extras in some demented disaster movie and simply play in water. But it is a lot of daggy, wonderful fun. It's the school holidays and families and friends and strangers all shriek and laugh together.
I heave along with my giggling children and I feel that joy of skitting across wet concrete by a pool. I feel the hardness on my feet, and I shiver a little as I flick water beads at my kids. The years slip away and I crash headlong into the sensations my childhood while I share those of my children's.
I hear a voice. Another park patron says: "Excuse me ... you were in Look Both Ways?"
I say I was and think about dredging up the Actor's Gut Suck No.5. He says how much he loved the film, and then asks: "What are you doing now?"
I am about to give a rundown of what I have been doing professionally. But then I remember. I give up the gut-sucking and let rip a yell. "I'm going back on the Tornado!" My children yell their agreement as we run off.
Hey, it's the school holidays. And it's fun.
posted by WilliamWatch at 8:47 PM
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