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racing to the crash sites. I tried to ignore the violent scenes. I studied the dance floor and
the people. I noticed that several of the women would gather on the one side of the room
while the lads were on the other, either playing pool, getting sloshed at the bar, or gathered
in backslapping, big buddy groups, paying not the slightest bit of attention to the room full
of kittens.
All the more for me, I thought, as I spied a really cute girl. I thought we made eye contact
but couldn't be sure. I launched myself forward and walked the three miles or so across
the floor and went up to this girl who was surrounded by a sea of winking sisters. Over
the loud music, I yelled into her ear about a dance, and she looked up and saw me for the
first time, figured what I was asking her and shook her head, looking away in boredom. I
slunk the five miles or so back to my half-empty schooner which had been removed by a
sharp-eyed waiter and withered with embarrassment in the welcome dark. I looked grate-
fully at the screen to divert some of the attention I had garnered. I tried another pretty girl
a schooner later and got the same bored rebuttal. I returned with my tail between my legs.
My confidence was definitely dented.
After the third flat refusal to dance, I fled into the night and went to another dance hall
down the road. During the next hour or so I received four straight refusals; not one girl
wanted to dance with me. My morale in shreds, my ego in tatters, I retreated back to the
boat in the deepest depression. Gavin was spending the night with his new girlfriend in her
parents' caravan. My depression was now complete, and I sat alone in the gloom of the cab-
in for a long time sipping cold coffee, staring at the bulkhead ahead of me.
The next morning, I decided to ride my bicycle down to the trailer park halfway down to the
Burnett River mouth. I would visit Liza. We had become pretty good friends, and I needed
to talk to a woman. I needed some feminine input. I was proudly introduced to a couple of
the trailer park locals, very sweet, poor, and simple people. They laughed good-naturedly
at my accent and Liza's brief description of where I had come from.
She invited me in for lunch. While she made something to eat, I rode down to a general
dealer and bought some beers. We had a wonderful meal of spaghetti and creamed mush-
rooms, and we finished the bottles of beer. Her husband had taken off the week before, and
she did not even know where he was. They obviously had a somewhat loose arrangement.
Liza was worried about my riding back after the beer, and she insisted on my staying over
the night, “Besides, it'll get the neighbors tongues waggin'!” she giggled. She had dark,
mischievous eyes and a very keen sense of humor. She showed me the little spare room
where I was to sleep. Through the open door we chatted for an hour at least, until I began
to feel sleepy, and my conversation grew less and less.
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