*GROAN*

Backdated post.

As if I'm not miserable enough about leaving Australia, I have to make my departure sapped of all my strength. Luckily, they serve pretty good pies and espresso at the Brisbane International Airport.

I sought the opinion of two people last night regarding the airport. We were at the official Andrew & Omid Birthday Bash at the Pineapple Hotel, and after an entirely-too-big steak, pavlova, and chocolate cake, I asked Andrew's dad if I really need to be at the airport 3 hours before an international flight. He was definitely on the pro side, citing the quagmire of the immigration line. Kel, on the other hand, suggested only a 2 hour window, saying that while the immigration line is bad, it's not that bad. I went with Kel, being that she's a fellow world traveler, and frankly a helluva lot cuter. (Sorry Andrew's dad!)

I'm also glad I went with that choice because the evening of November 30th was not one of those nights to go home early and pack. Despite the fact that we both had morning flights, Andrew and I decided we can not puss out on our birthdays. As the motto of the Down Under Bar goes, "Go hard or go home."

Of course, we weren't going to go back to the DUB, but instead went to hipper, cooler Fortitude Valley. Our first stop was Ric's Cafe, a good starting point for a night out in the Valley. We toasted our birthday over a couple of beers, and marvelled at the fact that one of the guys working there 10 years ago was still there. It was also amazing how many people were out on a Wednesday night.

The next stop was the Press Club, where Minno told us a DJ would be spinning funk. Alas, our old pal was wrong, but there was some good Latin jazz on hand, and eventually the dancefloor got going. We amused ourselves peoplewatching and imbibing in far too many vodka tonics. After Andrew hit the credit card tab minimum, it was my round... These credit card minimums can be a killer - for the liver or otherwise.

A gazillion vodka tonics later, it was time to truly test our stomachs. The warning had been passed around a million times about Ozgur's Kebabs (lovingly known as "Dodgy Kebab") during my time in Brisbane, but we figured getting falafel there would be safe.

I found out in the morning that even vegetarian items can be dodgy at the ol' Dodgy Kebab.