Well the exams have finished. Year 12 have left school for the last time and this week marks a phenomenon called Schoolies Week. Around 30,000 school leavers will pack up their booty and boogie boards and in the case of NSW head north. Usually to the den of iniquity that most New South Welshmen and women know as “The Gold Coast” (Other states have other venues such as Lorne in Victoria but The Gold Coast is where it’s at baby!) God knows why. The Gold coast comprises man made canals and a huge strip of apartments on a very fine beach that stretches from Coolangatta northwards. It’s a retirees paradise (Indeed, it’s most famous town is Surfer’s Paradise swamped with cheap touristy shops which appeal to the Japanese and a very nice Mall which appeals to us.) It’s hinterland has a beautiful national park, Dream World, Movie World and Wet and Wild (not that kind of wet and wild – water slides!) but the main drag is lined with multi-storey, well appointed apartments for lease and flash hotels.
The goal of schoolies from the kids point of view is basically to get pissed and get laid. You pack as many people into a luxury apartment as possible, sneak your vodca in via obscure means as glass is not allowed in the hotel rooms and hit the clubs and beach party, half price cocktails, party pashes and then come home before Christmas - marked, scarred and liberated for it is indeed a rite of passage from school into the real world
Parents hate it. Whether we admit it or not, we try in vain to distract our kids into accepting a more savoury alternative by offering holiday bribes, cars, a ‘weekend in Hawkes Nest’ or suggesting that staying with Gran might be more appropriate. Yeh right!
C’mon folks. I’m spitting chips that there was nothing like that when I left school.
My ‘right of passage’ was staying out all night after the end of year 12 formal, snogging to Dark Side of the Moon in the strobe light and sleeping on Palm Beach all the next day thanks to too much Blackberry Nip and Passion Pop!
Clare managed to squeeze schoolies in as she turned 18 on 4th December. And waltzed up to the Gold Coast . Poor Adam missed the Gold Coast bus so to speak as his 18th isn’t until the 11th and it’s all over bar the shouting, so he and his fellow underage drinkers opted for a boozy week with mates on the north coast in a friend’s holiday home.
This event has in the past been marred by drunken brawls, sick kids, ‘Toolies’ (older men coming in from the suburbs, or even interstate, to take advantage of the school leavers or cause fights with the younger boys) and the odd underage drinking bout although generally, ID is required and short of staying in your apartment and downing some Peach Schnapps, you can’t drink in public unless you’re over 18. It’s well policed by all accounts and many moons ago, we holidayed with smal kids during Schoolies and barely saw anyone in the teen realm – they’re all sleeping off the night before – the only evidence, a lot of doof doof coming from the subarus on Broad Beach and some ‘bodies’ left over at breakfast time.
So brace yourself Gold Coast . . .the first lot fly in tomorrow!