Ahh Sydney – the city of beautiful beaches, fitspo babes, and trendy little bars. The place you proudly invite your interstate friends to; the city that is capable of melting our hearts whilst simultaneously breaking it.
From the Eastern suburbs hipsters, to the shire boyz, to the north shore yuppies – us Sydney-siders are an interesting bunch with an even more interesting idea of fun. We queue, over pay and party until we’re wrecked but we bloody live for every minute of it.
Whether you’re a born and bred local or an expat from smaller country town – chances are that if you live in Sydney, you’ve endured some of these situations in the name of #thegreataussiedream.
- Turfing out half your salary for a room you have to routinely scrape mould out of. Hey, at least you have enough space for a lamp.
- Car karaoke featuring just you whilst you wait for yet ANOTHER traffic jam to clear on a road you paid $8 to drive on.
- The line at Messina on any night of the week.
- Consistent questions about what high school you went to. Then, the public or private debate that likely ensues.
- Attempting to grab a ‘quick’ brunch at The Grounds on Saturday morning only to be forced to sit with a pig for a few hours to wait for a table.
- Inner east /north shore ‘hotties’ and their linen shirts and loafers pounding the pavements in packs.
- Arq on a Sunday morning…admit it. You had a great time.
- Spending a chunk of a scorching summer’s day searching for a park at the beach, finally finding one 10kms away then strolling down only to find the clouds have come over. FFS!
- Trying to find your drunk mate in Cargo bar. Upstairs or down?
- The surcharge on soy/gluten free/dairy free/any allergy that has become #muchhealth #suchtrendy.
- The dreaded stairs on your Bondi to Bronte catch up.
- Trying to use your GPS to find the unsigned, unmarked, hole in the wall bar in the CBD.
- Attempting to join the F45 club…and failing.
- The quick dash to finish your beverage and make it to your desired club before the lockout.
- Not making the lockout and inevitably ending up at Mr Crackles at 3am on a Sunday morn.
- Attempting to plan your well-deserved European holiday only to remember your crippling rent for aforementioned mould infested room.
- Reminiscing about when Kings Cross was good.
- Everyone losing their freaking minds on a rainy day.
- The line at The Vinyl Room on a Saturday night.
- The floor at Northies.
- The floor at pretty much any bar in the Shire.
- Sleeping with a can of Mortein by your side because those townhouses ain’t as livable as they are cute.
- Wondering if you’ve missed a bus or you’re early for a bus only to see three drive past you at once.
- The judgment from the moustached bartender as you ask for your drink to be altered.
- The feeling that you’re not ‘kewl’ enough to be in Newtown on a Saturday.
- Last but not least, the absolute sheer disappointment of getting coffee anywhere else.
Words by April Murphy & Yelena Fairfax.