Monday, December 04, 2006

Gallantry is back, and his name is Loudboy.

Once upon a time, we had a housemate who for the purposes of this story, we shall call 'Loudboy'. I really can't think of a more appropriate name - this man in amazingly loud. Not just in voice, but also in task. He would eat nosily, he would walk noisily, he would sleep noisily, he would drive noisily, he would shower noisily. Don't even get me started on his 'laugh'. Surely, you would know him by his trail of (noisy) destruction. But with such noise, comes great responsibility - which is one of the many obstacles on which Loudboy trips, falls and crashes out spectacularly. He truly is an impressive man.

To put Loudboy's buffoonery into perspective, I should probably give you an example - of which there are many. But I think the best example - the big shining one that wraps up everything that is both wrong and right about Loudboy, slaps a big pink bow on top, and punches you in the face, is the infamous farewell dinner we had for another housemate who was moving to interstate.

The evening started well. We'd reserved a table at a restaurant we all enjoyed visiting. We arrived there in one piece, not stoned, not drunk, completely sober in fact, and all tarted up. Well, Loudboy and the housemate tarted themselves up. The rest of us were probably wearing trackpants. Ah... and then there was the housemates' mother. Amazingly, peace had reigned in the household for the two or so days the Mother was there, and all was looking well for the evening. Until we ordered our entrees, that is.

The thing you need to understand about this restaurant is that firstly, the food is amazing. It's also amazingly cheap - which means the place is incredibly busy. After going there just once, you learn to not order your own plate of food - you order a few for the table, and share away. If you don't, you risk being transformed into a mussaman curry-filled piƱata. Okay -
so now we have the details out of the way, lets get back to the dinner in point. Vegetarian spring rolls have been ordered for the table, and they're taking awhile. But this is okay - the table is chatting away, completely oblivious to the slow food. Except for Loudboy. Who tries to catch the attention of a waitress damn near sprinting past by yelling at her. She ignores him, which was when he decided that it was a good idea to give chase, leaving the rest of the table yelling 'No! Loudboy, it's okay - we can wait! They'll be here soon!'. What ensued is something I remember very clearly, as if in slow motion... Loudboys' chair flicking back into the aisle, as he stands up, and starts running... the formation of the mouths around our table, pronouncing the word Nooooooooooooooooo, the gradual realisation of our fellow diners that this loud obnoxious man was about to do something incredibly strange and very stupid.

He chased her up the aisle, all the way into the kitchen - rugby style - the whole restaurant watching in amazement. Silence descended on the room as everyone nervously watched and awaited the outcome from behind the kitchen door. A moment later he emerged, looking triumphant, yet with no spring rolls. As he walked down the aisle back towards our table, I noticed six or so confused faces poking out the kitchen door, shaking their heads in amazement. We bowed our heads in shame and tried to get back to normal conversation, ignoring Loudboy's exclamations of victory.

And that's when he started hitting on The Mother. At first, I thought it was just me who'd noticed. But when glances started being exchanged, we knew it was in fact happening, and something we could no longer ignore. Astounded, we sat there watching as if a slow motion train wreck... the winking. The laughing at non-existent jokes. The brushing of Loudboy hand on 55 year old thigh. It was horribly nauseating. I made a mental note to thank the staff for not bringing our food at that particular moment in time.

Unfortunately, the flirting continued throughout the meal. Eventually, the saner elements of the table wrestled conversation back to normality, and Loudboy quietly(!) contented himself by eating away at his dinner. Not surprisingly when ordering, he went against our advice and ended up ordering a satay chicken entree, a soup, several curries, a Pad Thai, and a salad - just to be healthy. He was about half way through the curries when the final nail was hammered good and hard into the coffin that was our pleasant night out. As we chatted, drank and ate our way through the meal, Loudboy concertedly went at his food, as if on a mission. And that's when I noticed the eyes of the room again fall upon us. Or more precisely, Loudboy. And then I saw why... His plate was now completely empty, save for a smear or two of curry sauce; He now looked around the room, slyly, as he picked gobfuls of curry out of his lap, elegantly shoving them into his mouth. Jaws dropped, Vomit Girl and I watched him consume about half the contents of his lap, before he finally made eye contact and decided to transfer the remaining curry back to his plate. By now, the whole restaurant was watching, and only The Mother and housemate were oblivious to what had gone down a mere table length away from them - though they soon worked out what was going on when Loudboy started trying to flag another waitress down for help. There he sat, previously white shirt and blue tie now a combination of red, green & brown; Curry on his face, his arms, and dripping off his lap onto the floor, pathetically trying to wave down the now furious wait-staff without spilling more curry on the floor. Eventually a waitress tended to him - the very same he'd attempted to tackle previously - and presented him with a single paper napkin to clean himself up with, tossing it into his lap disdainfully before walking out.

Needless to say, we left a large tip.

So, it's with that story in mind that we enter the public arena with our dear Loudboy. The experiences are countless now, and while often infuriating, also highly entertaining on one level - despite us usually having to leave large tips in his wake. In the time I've known him, I've seen Loudboy:

  • Crash his car; twice.
  • Run out of petrol; twice.
  • Get fired many, many times.
  • Regularly break, and then attempt to hide, glassware and ceramics.
  • Unwittingly sit on a kebab, and later eat it.
  • Unwittingly sit on a block of chocolate, and later have it fall of his arse.
  • Loudly create obscene nicknames for wait staff, usually when they're right behind him (my personal favorite was 'Von Strudel').
  • Loudly recreate bizarre scenes from his sex life in words, usually when there's an eight year old in earshot.
  • Alarm a Japanese restaurants patrons with a tale of having to destroy a bed he'd been handcuffed to, in a daring 3am escape.
  • Alarm a Japanese restaurants patrons with a tale of the woman who wanted him to wear a Fat Cat costume in bed.
  • Offend six minority groups in a single sentence.
  • Attack a friend - kung-fu style - for being both gay, and in the same room as him.
  • Regularly do kung-fu in the living room in time to the fight scenes in the bad sci-fi he would watch.
  • Purchase a vegetarian pizza, claiming it to be 'a salad'.

There's a lot more, but really, some things are best kept for another rant. I mean, originally, this rantolotl was meant to be about how we went to the theatre with Loudboy last weekend... but some things need explanation - and Loudboy clearly requires more than most. I'm sure a Part 2 will get itself together shortly. Until then, settle your minds with the knowledge that there will always be a Loudboy out there to not only give you hope, but give you entertainment where not many dare to tread.


Kipper said...

A very balanced and accurate description of the man. It is sobering to reflect upon the fact that everything you recounted in that post is true.

CJ said...

The Void rantolotl, the Void - how LOudboy makes me yearn for it...

esmerelda said...

I hate him.

I want to punch him.

Bozza said...

I laughed my arse off while reading these sentences:

# Loudly recreate bizarre scenes from his sex life in words, usually when there's an eight year old in earshot.
# Alarm a Japanese restaurants patrons with a tale of having to destroy a bed he'd been handcuffed to, in a daring 3am escape.
# Alarm a Japanese restaurants patrons with a tale of the woman who wanted him to wear a Fat Cat costume in bed.

The last one really cracked me up!

esmerelda said...

Maybe the Fat Cat outfit was a bid to muffle his great loud head.