Animal House in Byron Bay

Traveling, as in life, comes with its ups and downs. You’re always going to win some and lose some. At bat in Australia with a few strikes, it was time for us to win. Or was it?

We heard nothing but fantastic things about the surfer town of Byron Bay, and were excited to settle in there. Just two hours south of Brisbane, the town is centered around beautiful beaches set in a gorgeous bay. Its unique vibe stems from its popularity among hippies, surfers, backpackers and yuppies alike. There are kebab stands and surfer shops alongside glitzy boutique hotels, upscale cafes and wine bars. The streets are lined with wealthy urbanites driving Mercedes behind hoards of hippies clanking along in their mini campervans. On the beach, however, all differences are set aside. Here it’s all about the sun and surf.

After a few sleepless nights in our carpet-stained room in Brisbane, we didn’t arrive without a high recommendation for our Byron Bay accommodation. We booked the newest budget accommodation in town and with upgraded facilities and stellar ratings, we knew we couldn’t go wrong. Because the cost of a private room was begrudgingly out of budget, I realized I had to suck it up. It was time to experience the digs of a true backpacker: dorm-style living. The idea of it was certainly unappealing, but this was supposed to be a nice place, right?

As day one wore on, I could see our hostel slowly transforming. I wasn’t sure what was happening as it happened, but the bright, cheerful, clean place I had arrived to that morning was quickly taking on a new form. Girls seemed to have traded in their t-shirts and flip-flops for stilettos and spandex, and I hadn’t gotten the memo. The guys had changed out of their swim trunks but still didn’t have shirts on, and the water in their water bottles had now been replaced by Jack Daniels. By 6 p.m. even that friendly guy that worked the front desk had changed agendas. He had now taken position on the patio to do none other than ‘spin.’ Yes, spin as in DJ as in club as in our hostel was becoming a full-blown, boisterous dance club.

Of course I’m all about going out and having a good time, but when it’s practically in your sleeping quarters, that’s when it becomes a problem. After re-confirming we were old, married and boring, we decided we were ready to seek refuge and headed to our room. Peace and quiet? By the looks of it, yes. Our two British female roommates were fast asleep in their beds. Had we scored the jackpot, bunking up with two innocent gals disinterested in the juvenile debauchery? Oh, how wrong we were.

Night 1: Within minutes of laying our heads on the pillows, we awoke to the sound of one of our roommates urinating in the middle of our room. We literally shoved her out the door, only to be re-awoken by the sound of the fire alarm she set off while trying to locate the bathroom.

Night 2: The following night was a Monday, which we presumed had to be more low key. To our dismay, the club scene just grew bigger. Again trying to escape the licentious activities, we retreated to our room where we again found our roommates fast asleep and this time, seemingly sober. High-fiving one another in the dark, we were convinced we wouldn’t have any midnight interruptions. Nonetheless, we were soon awoken to the sound of our other considerate roommate, this time vomiting profusely just feet away from where we slept.

We soon learned traveling through Australia and partying like it’s 1999 was a kind of rite of passage for teenage Europeans. We found ourselves right in the midst of it. Unfortunately, we lacked the liquid endurance, were a bit past our partying prime and in the end, way out of our league.

We tried desperately to enjoy the all that Byron Bay had to offer, with days on the beach, hikes to the nearby lighthouse and enjoying the low-key café scene but I’m afraid it’s the Animal House accommodations that will leave the indelible mark.