I saw a girl headbutt a wall last night.
Yes, a girl headbutted a wall, knocked herself out and needed an ambulance.
Welcome to the world of “goon”.
I’ve been doing the whole “backpacking” malarkey for a few days now (I guess you can’t really count the time I spent with the parents) and not long after they waved me off was I being introduced to the infamous goon.
For those who are blissfully unaware, goon (or cask wine, as you may know it) has become the drink of choice for backpackers in Australia and it’s pretty easy to see why. A 24-pack of lager out here tends to cost anything between $40-60. That’s like 30 quid.
Four litres of 11% goon costs $11. It’s a no-brainer; simple maths. You can walk into the games room at 9pm on any given night and the pool table will be hidden under a sea of boxes (yes, it comes in a box and a bag) as stumbling backpackers make their way through a round of ring of fire. I’m willing to bet it’s similar in almost every hostel in Australia.
I had preconceptions about goon after what Chris told me about his time travelling round Australia five years ago. I was also told by my new brother in-law that he had to stop drinking it because it gave him crazy dreams.
This stuff is lethal.
For the fourth day in a row I’ve woken up with a very hazy memory of the previous night, feeling like my head is trapped in a vice and my stomach is in knots. There’s a nice thought for you. Thankfully 90% of my fellow guests are in the same boat.
I think if I ever run into “American Girl” again, I’ll definitely be recommending she gets on the goon. I reckon even she could afford a box of that.
In other news, I’ve made my next travel plans. On Friday I will make the short trip to Brisbane for three nights before potentially heading back down to Byron Bay. It’s bloody easy this travelling lark.
Have you experienced goon? What are your craziest goon stories?