A handy guide to being hungover in Sydney
Get the most out of whatever shreds of humanity you have left.
So you’ve woken up spooning a coat hanger again. The winter winds are billowing through the door you’ve left open to the crusty street outside and as you crawl over to shut it, you make prolonged eye contact with a jogger only to realise that you’re naked apart from the Chupa Chup stuck to your nipple.
Being hungover in Sydney is both a blessing and a curse. For one you have almost every variation of bacon just outside your doorstep. On the other hand, you threw up on your doorstep last night. You know that you’ve got to rally, and what better way than referring to this handy little guide of how to fang around Sydney while on death’s door.
There really is no better way to start your day. What you need is a heavy dose of grease, a cigarette and possibly some more alcohol (or maybe that’s just me). The dark shades you picked up from the local Caltex will mask your vampire glow as you sink your fangs into one of the best bacon and egg rolls this side of the bridge at inner west institution West Juliett. Located in a quiet street in Marrickville, this eatery will have your taste buds sorted as you disgustingly lick yolk off your clammy palms. Plus judging by their Facebook page it appears heaps of puppies hang out there, which is guaranteed to make you feel better. And speaking of dogs...
If hair of the dog is what you’re after, head over to the ever-changing Potts Point to Bloody Marys. You can order bloody marys there. They squeeze their tomato juices almost as hard as you squeezed that bartender’s ass last night and the spice is totally up to you. You can’t go wrong with their hangover cure brekky either. However, if you want to be a hero, order their ‘Bloody Hell’, which comes garnished with a slider, a chicken wing and a prawn. After spending two hours there last Sunday, I now know where I want my ashes to be scattered.
By now you should start to feel somewhat like a human again. This is when you hit the markets, if only for the ironic songs the 40-something dude with a wallet chain and a goatee is singing into a crackling amp. Glebe Markets will have you sorted if you want to check out chicks who are schlepping their used threads, or hit Marrickville markets if you want to check out some puppies and eat a brownie the size of your face.
You could also do the Bondi to Bronte beach walk if you’re psychotic.
"Ooh, ah," that's how it always starts. But then later there's running and screaming. Image via.
Each month the hip hop gods shine their rims and chains and what not down into the inner west. One Day Sundays will not only have your music needs sorted, but I am pretty sure everyone there still has the shakes from the evening before. This shaking therefore produces an R&B earthquake that slowly morphs into possibly the best way to slide into Monday. Stand around and watch the people shimmy to old school R Kelly or get amongst the crowd and make sure you limp into work the next day holding your coffee with a makeshift gold tooth still hanging out of your head. The final one for 2015 is happening August 30, details HERE.
Vibes. Photo by Averie Harvey.
If you haven’t fallen into a sweaty heap on your poorly made bed yet, then you’re in luck. Sunday night comes alive in Sydney and I don’t just mean in Oporto’s car parks. You might as well get back into the party spirit. From Freda’s in Chippendale to GoodGod in the city, venues across the big smoke have you covered. It’s about time you went out and annoyed some DJs again. Rip up some envelopes and scribble down your requests and put them in your pocket, you absolute dickhead.
Plus judging by this photo from Freda's Facebook page, the girl-guy ratio is out of this world.
If your dancing shoes have officially burnt to a crisp, you’ve got to get down with some more food before hitting the sack. If massive portions of fried rice and dynamite seafood tick your box then head to The Golden Century in Chinatown. If spaghetti and meat-a-balls is more your flavour then Bar Reggio in Darlinghurst is the place to go for insanely delicious pasta and BYO cheap red wine. If you’re a tech-head, Wagaya Tapas in Newtown is the Japanese menu for you (ordered from iPads meaning you can have as little human contact as needed). However, if you really want to stuff your gullet in the name of sinking too many tins, then head to The Oxford Tavern for $12 Bloody Marys and a schnitzel so large that you could probably marry it (I’ve definitely thought about it).
That's a mexican chicken schnitzel from The Oxford Tavern and you are welcome.