Matt Watson, who we can only assume is referred to as “Watto” by his mates, threw us 150 succulent ones during our crowdfunding campaign last year. As televangelists would claim, his seeding of that money has borne fruit – He now finally has the details of that bender he embarked on with the kick-on kids, as retold by Jake.
Explanatory note: Due to differences in time zones, Australia Day in Canada spills over two days. Australians have never needed an excuse to bender, but when you’re in Whistler, Australia Day comes with one in-built. And like all good stories set in the STI capital of Canada – Whistler – we start deep in the Bermuda Triangle.
Lost In The Bermuda Triangle – 25th January
4.48pm – We take stock of our energy supplements – because patriotism can only get you so far on a 2-day whip. Half an ounce of weed, 9 bags of coke and a rock of MD. We’re unsure how much the rock equates to. The uncertainty excites us.
4.49pm – You state your goal of the impending bender – transcendence. Your theory: Today is a celebration of your home country stratified upon your adopted home. You’re unifying both countries. You refer to this as the trinity and claim you will transcend this reality. We ignore you and confiscate the bag.
4.52pm – First tracks of the day are chopped up on Stacey’s make-up mirror. You explain the Bermuda Triangle strategy – alternating between MD, coke and pot, with alcohol as the unifier. The strategy seems flawless.
5.00pm – Midday Jan 26 in Australia. Triple J Hottest 100 kicks off with Seth Sentry. Disappointing start, but spirits remain high.
5.08pm – Next two songs are also shittier than a festival portaloo. After chipping off more of the rock, you pull out two BB guns and propose a game – Hit the Nip.
5.12pm – You and Yogi have a BB gun each and alternate between shots at each other’s nipples. Whoever hits the nip first wins. The prize is respect.
5.14pm – Yogi’s forehead, a nearby lamp and your pet gerbil, Bertram, have all received BBs but no nipples.
5.17pm – You win hit the Nip. Yogi cries foul – your minuscule nipples are harder targets, which given the temperature is true on two counts. Yogi proposes a nipple handicap. He is overruled.
5.19pm – Yogi threatens to exact revenge.
5.21pm – Hottest 100 gets marginally better. Then Courtney Barnett comes on. I’ve heard ice-addled female truckies sing better than her. You believe she is the rock hero of our generation.
5.44pm – We finish the first bag and in a moment of inspiration, you chip of a bullet-sized chunk of MDMA, load it into the BB gun and recruit Stacey to shoot it into your mouth. You’re going for the World Record for fastest ever drugs consumed.
5.49pm – I phone Guinness. They refuse to send out a rep to acknowledge the record attempt – some dribble about eating MD off the rock not being conducive to their brand image. I argue the toss.
5.51pm – Arguing with Guinness continues. They threaten to call the police.
5.52pm – We stop everything and start an impromptu mosh pit to The Bennies’ “Party Machine”.
5.55pm – We attempt the record anyway. Stacey shoots a rock of MD at you. It explodes as it leaves the barrel. A couple of shards enter your eye.
5.57pm – Your eye is visibly red, but you claim some guy on Reddit told you that consuming drugs through your eyeballs is better as it circumvents the GI tract and liver. It also hits you faster. #cleanliving
6.01pm – We decide to head to the local piss palace – Tepley’s.
Shoot Out At Tepley’s
6.07pm – The guy on Reddit was right; the shards of MD come on like a runaway froth train. You confess your love to Stacey. She rebuffs you.
6.10pm – Bouncer at Tepley’s comment on your red eye. You explain what happened – BB gun, MDMA, eyeball, chockaz. Remarkably, he lets us in.
6.15pm – Your ocular MDMA has achieved its final form. You’re providing a running commentary on the Hottest 100. You offend all fans of Sticky Fingers – and rightly so – but then win them over with cocaine.
6.38pm – We finish the second bag. The rock is a third gone.
8.27pm – Your Hottest 100 commentary continues, singing Skepta’s “Shut down” over anyone with a different opinion, before shooting them with your BB gun.
9.52pm – Your eye is really red now. We start calling you Pink Eye, which Stacey quickly mutates into Pink Sac. You interpret it as a sign of affection.
10.49pm – Because of your vocal support for Courtney Barnett, half the Australians turn on you.
1.03am – The Rubens have taken out Triple J Hottest 100. Arguments ensue. You start shouting that it’s the blandest vanilla smoothie of a song since “Coco Jumbo”. You’ve heard edgier stuff played in your local Chinese restaurant. It’s the type of music you’d expect at a Liberal Party fundraiser and anyone who voted for it is musically disabled – a reflection of the current Triple J audience. I support your opinion. The staff and patrons don’t.
1.04am – Locals, staff and fellow Australians turn on us. We draw out the BB guns and start firing. Glasses are thrown. Chairs. The bouncer starts coming for us. We’re low on ammo. Stacey smashes the fire alarm.
1.05am – We escape. Run down the street. You tell Stacey that the fire alarm ploy was badass. You re-declare you love for her, explaining that you only “fuck with bad bitches.” Stacey (pink) sac whacks you.
1.15am – Aimless wondering and obnoxious cries of “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie.”
3.03am – Make it home. Hot tub and a smoke.
3.48am – You reflect on the “philosophy of the mountain” – some smack about how the mountain remains a constant rock as seasons come and go. Irrespective of global warming, humans, pollution, animal piss – it always remains. Resilient. Eternal. You believe the mountain needs to accept you before you transcend. You ponder.
4.12am – Your pondering continues.
5.00 – 8.00am – Collective blackout period. Possibly all unconscious.
Heckler’s Hill – 26th January
8.01am – Trying to wake up for round 2. Stacey suggests coke may help. It does.
8.21am – Leave house. We arm ourselves with BB guns for protection. Decide it’s an MDMA and weed free day because we’ll be on the slopes and need our wits about us.
8.22am – Decide to get our wits from the remaining 3 bags of coke. It would be irresponsible not to.
8.45am – Op Shopping. Kangaroo masks acquired.
9.13am – The powder gods reclaim your brain. You tell passers-by about your spiritual pilgrimage. Most flee in fear. The oversized kangaroo mask might have something to do with it.
10.30am – Arrive at Heckler’s Hill. The perfect vantage point from which to insult passing ski school kids and all manner of alpine punters. Couple of Goldy lads throw empty tins. We join in. Straya.
11.03am – Obligatory cricket match. You’re out for a duck.
12.42pm – Vibe is positive. There’s no greater team-building exercise than a drunken, coked-up mob of compatriots embracing the absolute worst of our self-destructive tendencies and celebrating our aggressive British colonialist heritage by laying claim to part of another country’s ski resort. We collectively ignores the irony.
1.30pm – Ski patrol request we move off. Their advice is considered and rejected.
1.34pm – Group continues to ignore ski patrol.
1.42pm – Ski patrol leave. Because if you ignore a problem long enough, it goes away.
2.57pm – In a bout of coke-rage, Yogi challenges you to a Hit the Nip rematch. You accept.
3.01pm – The crowd gather round as Hit the Nip kicks off. You dedicate the duel to Stacey, who you publicly declare is your future wife. The crowd’s cheers drown out Stacey’s protests.
3.14pm – Hit the Nip continues. Crowd’s losing interest. They resume throwing things at passing ski school kids.
3.21pm – You beat Yogi. Again. He’s furious. Especially since you didn’t take your kangaroo mask off the entire time.
3.30pm – Stacey talking to a Canadian bloke. You go over to her and say, “Yo Stacey, what cho doing with another mannn, Gurl.” Stacey tells you to fuck off.
3.31pm – You fuck off.
3.38pm – Yogi has run off with the BB guns and a bag and swears he will get his revenge. He retreats to the trees. We have only one bag left. Small concern.
4.04pm – Ski patrol arrive. Cops are waiting at the bottom of the mountain. It’s our last chance to move on. Crowd has drunk and snorted everything anyway so decide to migrate back into the village to source more piss and narcotics.
4.06pm – We break away from the group and head out of bounds to Bazza’s Retreat.
4.25pm – We take our spot at Bazza’s Retreat. The sun is setting as we look out at the most amazing mountain range you could imagine. You whisper that you must become the mountain. Stacey comments that you’ve hoovered enough powder to open your own ski resort in your nasal passage.
4.55pm – The sun sets. It’s beautiful.
5.05pm – We finish the last bag.
5.19pm – Now completely dark, we decide the quickest way down the hill is to board. As fast as we can. In theory, this seems sensible and efficient. In practice, boarding flat out down a dark ski hill where the snow becomes pure white and the trees become a grey blur is straight-up suicidal. The snow is visible but we can’t see the ruts or changes in grade. We go as fast as possible with our minds pumping on adrenaline and coke and excitement. We can see the twinkle of the village come in and out of range as we hurtle down the hill.
5.20pm – You scream that you’re lost in the eternity of the mountain. This would later be the moment you claim you were transcending the confines of your body and existing as pure consciousness with your surroundings. Then Yogi emerges from the trees and starts hammering us with BBs. The vengeful little fuck.
5.21pm – You and I hit the deck, both copping ball bearings to the face, which admittedly, we couldn’t feel. Stacey keeps going, giving zero fucks. Yogi charges you and you end up on your arse. He rips your jacket open, pulls your shirt up and pumps a BB right on your nipple. Despite the coke and the cold, you feel it. You scream. You cry. Yogi claims victory.
5.22pm – We’re all friends again.
5.31pm – Hot tub. Spliffs. Blistered nipples. Scattered brains. Near-transcendence. Riotous patriotism. Reflection on the best 36 hours of our lives. Happy Australia Day.
Link to original article from Vice in which Matt is featured.