The Iron Bar watering hole in the center of Port Douglass holds a nightly event called Cane Toad Racing. Regularly smart folks and zoologists know that the title is an oxymoron. The race, of course, is less of a competition and more the butt of a very long and entertaining joke told by the MC [the local yocal donning a yellow hat as shown in figure A].
It was just the keen type of white trash antics that I love. Nothing sensible goes on during this wagering event, yet each piece of the ritual feels fitting after three beers – maybe five for you hearty blokes.
Each patron throws in $5 and pulls a number. If your number is selected from the bucket you are the proud owner of a racing cane toad. Amy and I were down on our lottery luck and sadly just observers for the epic tilt.
Figure A: Local Yocal
Bet = $5. Beer = $5. Racing toads = Priceless
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