The Ekka: Trades-ies

August 12th

Tom’s concerned: it’s his first time at The Ekka and business is much slower than he was expecting. Attendance is generally down (Swine flu? Hiked admission rates? Theories abound) and all the vendors are feeling pinched. Tom had assumed The Show would at very least be on par with other festivals Divine Donuts has been at and staffed it accordingly.
No matter how much I try to reassure him that I don't need buckets of hours, he still feels responsible for me, that I came all the way to Brisbane for work that may not be available (I repeat several times it was an excuse to get to Queensland and be a carny).
Then, luck of luck, word comes by Tom’s friend Nemo that a neighboring stall is desperately short staffed for tomorrow.
And Wednesday is Show Day!

All the states in Australia are allotted the same number of statutory holidays. So where Victoria has a day for the races (for The Melbourne Cup, the city has the day off work, gets dressed up, the girls put on beautiful hats, and everyone goes to the races), all the towns and cities in Queensland have a Show Day. No school, businesses close, and everyone hits the Show grounds. But unlike The Races, no one gets dressed up and the girls do not wear beautiful hats.

Show Day passes in a blur of people and vegetarian Mexican food. Never have 9 hours disappeared quite so quickly. There are four of us dishin’ up tucker nearly non-stop. When Peter, the owner, says they could definitely use my help for the rest of the week, it’s good news all around.

***

I arrive back at Sally and Carlie’s properly beat, the bike ride home the final nudge. Brisbane has some bastard hills, including a long gradual one on the last stretch. The house is at the bottom of the most ridiculous slope imaginable; I can barely walk up it in the mornings (no exaggeration). But on the way home, it’s bliss. The thought of it makes the slow climb possible. At the top of Jones street, deep breath and down, so fast it makes me giggle every time. I coast far beyond the house, chuck a u-ey [as they say here], and head back.

***

The ladies are also tuckered. We’re playing on youtube, relishing the video for “Love is a Battlefield,” deeply mesmerized by Pat Benetar’s ‘angry shimmies’ [check it out: you will not be disappointed!].
The Internet trail leads to another Australian mystery: The Rock Eisteddfod. This has been introduced to me before and, much like The Show Bag, I don’t get it. We watch clips, I have the girls explain it a couple times, we Wikipedia it, but The Rock Eisteddfod is beyond me. My Canadian brain can’t make sense of it and all the excitement it carries. And while it’s no angry shimmy, The Rock Eisteddfod is pretty damn good.