For two and a half years now I have been a prisoner in Australia…. the worlds biggest island. My Alcatraz.
As an Aussie, who hasn’t lived here for 20 years, I wasn’t allowed to leave. I had to submit paperwork, which I did 4 times..
I asked to leave to go back to my last home, Canada.
DENIED. There was never a reason for denial except ‘Government Health Advice’ so I’m going to assume that the Australian Government saw my ice hockey skills. Me returning to Canada is DEFINITELY a health risk.
I then applied to go to my friend Eric’s wedding in Colorado where I used to own a home. I was going to arrange his bucks party.
DENIED The Australian Government said it was to “Keep Me Safe”. I think they banned me from travelling to keep Eric safe from the bucks party I had planned. Eric owes the Australian Government thanks.
Photo above is Eric and I partying at the Broadmoor Hotel. This is where President George W Bush had his last drink….
Then I was asked to house sit for some friends in Switzerland. I applied twice.
DENIED: That broke the camels back. This turned me from a happy go lucky guy stuck here to someone who is deeply upset and I want my pound of flesh. I will loose some friends, but those friends didn’t mind it when my life was turned upside down in order to ‘Keep us Safe’.
So I’m stuck, this is how people live in Communist Russia, North Korea, Iran and China. Those are countries where you need to apply to leave the country.
Those guys make the most of it and so will I. I’m not allowed to cross state borders (again, keeping me SAFE) so instead of living in Terrigal with my friends and where I have lived before I decide to settle on Bribie Island. I don’t know a single person within 30kms. I am friends with 4 people within 500kms (2 of whom I have lost over this shit). I mentioned this on my government applications….
Everyone asks me why? I reply, I live between the golf course and the beach, this is the perfect place to live (for a convict)!!!
Some call Bribie Island, God’s Waiting Room. I play tennis with some guys on a Monday morning and if I miss a few weeks (usually because I drink too much on Sunday night) I have to reintroduce myself because they have dementia and half of the guys have died in the last few weeks.
On a positive side: In mountain towns where I have lived for the last 2 decades, bikes get stolen. Hippies, vegans, illegals and lefties don’t have drivers licences so they steal stuff. That isn’t the case here on the Aussie Alcatraz.
Mobility scooter theft is a bigger issue. Here I am on pension day trying to get a park for my bike.
A few weeks ago I rode my bike to the pub on a Friday afternoon. I was too drunk to ride home, so I did the responsible thing and stumbled home. The next Wednesday morning I was up early and going to ride to tennis….. my bike wasn’t there. Ow yeah, I rode it to the pub last Friday. Hahaha.
So I walked over to the pub And there was my bike. How cool is this place?!?!?!
