Battling Bombing Bats in Broome
While traversing the land of kangaroos, koalas, and spiders. My journey Down Under took an unexpected turn when I found myself in a showdown with some flying rodents armed with mangos. Let me regale you with my absurd encounter.
Picture this: a fearless backpacker traversing Australia, armed with a tent strapped to his trusty backpack and a sense of adventure. Little did I know that my adventure would soon take a bizarre twist.
I arrived in Broome on a Monday, broke and tired. My first mission was to find a place to pitch a tent and then find a job. I found a nice spot in a grassy campground sheltered from the heat of the Australian sun under a row of mango trees. I was down to my last 20 dollars and therefore asked the nice check-in booth lady if I could pay the rent at the end of the week. She agreed and I was off to find a job.
I found work washing dishes in a hotel kitchen. Every night, when the kitchen closed, the chefs would hand me a pile of burnt pots and pans, and then they would head for the hotel bar. By the time I had finished cleaning and putting the pots away, The bar was closed and the staff had gone home for the evening. It was a horrible job but I knew all I needed was enough money to survive until Friday and by then I should have enough to catch a bus to my next destination. Luckily I had a neverending supply of free mangos lying around my tent.
The evening before payday, I arrived back at a campsite late in the evening, tired and sweaty only to realise that a colony of fruit bats were hanging ominously in the mango trees above. Now, I’m all for coexisting with wildlife, but these bats seemed intent on keeping me and every other camper in the park awake that night.
For those of you who have never heard the sweet song of the Bat, let me fill you in. They make high-pitched squeaks, clicks and chirps, often beyond the range of human hearing. But not on this particular evening. As an added bonus to the ear-piercing soundtrack in the darkness, the bat-talion of winged rats began bombing my tent with mangos with remarkable precision.
Determined to defend myself, I reached down for the only weapon at my disposal: mangos. Yes, you read that right—mangos. With mango in hand, my fellow tent-dwelling soldiers and I embarked on a comical bat-tle with the dodging and swooping adversaries, flinging mangos in every direction. It was a scene straight out of a low-budget action movie, complete with dramatic music and slow-motion mango onslaught.
Despite our valiant efforts, the bats proved to be formidable foes. They danced around the mango barrage with surprising agility, leaving me sleepless and my tent covered in guacamole.
The next morning, I trudged into town still recovering from the bat-tery the night before. I put my card into the bank machine only to receive an on-screen error message saying: “Your transaction could not be completed”. Mango-stained and slightly bewildered, by the thought of having to wash dishes for another week which would have been a bat-tastrophe. I walked into the bank to ask what was the problem. The teller told me that the internet was down, apologised for the inconvenience but said I could withdraw up to 300 dollars. “Well then”, I said, “give me 300 dollars please!”
With that in my pocket, I promptly quit the dishwashing job, grabbed a beer and headed for the beach. While lying in the sun with my handy Lonely Planet, I searched for affordable buses. And then, just like that, I happened along the oral hygienically challenged hippy who brought me to Broome just a week earlier. He told me he was on his way to Perth in an hour and I was welcome to tag along.
What luck! I ran back to the campsite to pack up my tent. With the car packed and my toothless chauffeur waiting, I approached the check-out window. The nice lady who said I could pay at the end of the week had no idea who I was or when I arrived. She told me of the internet problem and asked if I could return when they were back on-line. Five minutes later I exited Broome and was on my way to the next adventure.
In the end, I may not have emerged victorious from the bat-tle but I certainly earned the title of the “Mango Avenger of the Outback” by my fellow campers. So, if you ever find yourself in Western Australia, out of cash, out of work and face-to-face with a swarm of belligerent bats, remember to arm yourself with mangos. Who knows? You just might emerge as the unlikely hero of your own mango-infused adventure.