ANZAC Gambling

All of Australia held a moment of silence Sunday morning for ANZAC Day, which honors the country's veterans and fallen soldiers. There was a beautiful dawn service at the war memorial downtown, and most Aussies celebrated the day with commemorative brunches and copious booze. In true Down Under fashion, the national holiday extends through the Monday workday, allowing everyone to take full advantage of ANZAC Day barbecues and bar specials.

I spent Sunday night with some new friends playing that traditional Aussie game, Texas Hold 'Em. Winner takes all, and I won! I credit a year and a half of sailing with card sharks whose nightly entertainment consisted of Whist, gin rummy, and cribbage. I must also thank dumb luck and a fortuitous pair of 10s at 2:30 in the morning. Regardless, I walked away with the money to pay off the damnable quarantine officers who stand between me and my personal belongings when and if the boxes ever arrive. Word from the freight shippers is my stuff will be in Adelaide tomorrow noon. I am far too beleaguered by the long wait to hope this forecast is true.

In other news, I have found potentially useful inroads to the Adelaide mafia network. There's this phenomenally wealthy regular at the restaurant where I work; we'll call him Blaine. He drives around in a 7-series BMW and, according to gossip, paid cash for a Mercedes to placate his wife when she found out about one of the mistresses. Blaine keeps separate houses for wife and mistresses. He has also run up a several-thousand dollar tab at the restaurant, and my boss is pretty irritated with the situation. I wondered at first why we keep serving Blaine, tolerating his smarmy requests for lap dances and endless need for whiskey and cokes. I didn't appreciate how he gets away with bringing his weekly girlfriends to our cozy neighborhood establishment. I sat down for a cocktail with Blaine on Friday night, out of boredom and amusement. Now the world is just a little less hazy.

Blaine makes all his money betting on horse races. He is -I'm told- Australia's wealthiest "punter," possibly in every non-football sense of the word. No surprise that he has access to some serious muscle, specifically in the form of a big guy named "Johnny." And of course he's familiar with the regional criminal hierarchy. He can, off the cuff, name the leaders of the "families" in Adelaide's suburbs, and I'll wager he's got special friends, lady and otherwise, in every major town on the continent. He wears a heavy gold ring with a massive diamond horseshoe and a horse head where the Superbowl insignia ought to be. I can think of a couple locals who would look good with that logo imprinted in their foreheads.

Not that I would wish for that sort of thing.