Fortunately, the proprietors didn’t mind me dragging my parachute inside.

In the spirit of the reason for my visit to Melbourne, the bartender improvised a cocktail for me. It was delicious – and it wasn’t even spiked!

That’s one tasty beverage.

But it wasn’t an entirely reckless a trip. The very next morning, at the highly-respectable (read: slightly insane) hour of 8 o’clock, I met a friend for the breakfast…

It was the kind of food that proves the old commercial cliches that food can be both ridiculously good and ridiculously good for you.
Best. Bircher. Museli. Ever.

I continued to feed my cafe-hopping obsession that afternoon.

I sat down in one of those bookshop-and-cafe cafes (aka: a happy place), opened up my laptop and “worked on my novel”. You’re only a writer if other people watch you writing, right?
(truth be told, I wrote 1000 words there)

In a slightly less cultured move, I partook in midnight laser-tag at Crown Casino. The white junk on the sign is nothing more illicit than fake cobwebs, I promise. T’was the season.

Oh and the battle did surely begin.
And it ended at 2am, at which time I concluded that:
a) improvisers (who aren’t me) are good shots and b) I have the aim of a cross-eyed bat with cataracts, no voice to bounce sounds off, and no ears to hear them anyway (ie: badly crap).

I consoled myself at 3am with taking the kind of shot I’m a little better at.

Thanks, Fitzroy St, for looking pretty that night – unlike Friday or Saturday night when all the bogans emerge and you’re all like “Shane of the Dead” (see what I did there?). You yield a verrrry different view then.

Speaking of views, here’s one from a rooftop in St Kilda:

That’s the Palais Theatre in the middle. Very Secret Life…

But it wasn’t sunny all the time – it was also dark (some call this phenomenon “night and day”). It was a Halloween season of shows, and what better way to celebrate than with
Mr Fish and His Spooky Library of Impro Macabre?

This show was an inspiration! Sophisticated, compelling improv that nailed comedy and horror.

This, however, was nothing but horror…

This is the worst freakin’ misuse of the apostrophe ever committed.

Whoever endorses that atrocity at Victoria Markets should go sit on these:

Pretty though.