Drinks with the Finks
It’s not everyday you get to spend an evening with an outlaw motorcycle gang but a few years back, Dad and I did just that. We have always enjoyed going to the boxing (and kickboxing) and decided to watch the Kosta Tszyu fight on the big screens at the Port Adelaide Football Clubrooms at Alberton. We arrived early and were rapt when we positioned ourselves at the most central table right in front of the biggest TV screen. We enjoyed bantering with a few of the patrons, soaking up the atmosphere and fight hype before the main event.
Dad and I were facing the TV watching some warm up bouts when we heard a whole heap of chairs scraping, and the chatter in the room suddenly went silent. People started getting up and quickly walking towards the door and we thought it must be some kind of fire drill. I then turned around to be confronted by 12 very intimidating members of the Finks heading through the room towards us. They were huge, with most wearing Finks t-shirts or leather vests. They were well inked with Fink logos, facial tattoos and plenty of gold chains and chunky Finks rings.
It was quite a menacing sight as the group decided to park themselves on the table next to us….ahhhhh. My mind started to race as I was faced with a decision, do we get up and leave like the rest of the patrons, or do we hold firm not draw any attention to ourselves and continue with our night? I thought it was best to keep things as calm as possible so I quietly said to Dad through clenched teeth…” Do not move…we are staying put”. I had already consumed a couple of beers, was getting hyped for the boxing and for some irrational reason I thought to myself ” We were here first, we are not moving for anybody!”….
The testosterone at a boxing event is quite unique. It is very blokey and macho and everyone is fuelled with bravado and you feel like going a few rounds yourself. I have been in pubs before where brawls have broken out with drunk patrons, and vividly remember a night at The Hilton Hotel (South Road) where a guy was smashed through the front window.
So anyway there we were choking on our schnitzels and I was silently praying to myself and repeating the mantra ” everything will be ok…everything will be ok “. I looked around the room and the only people left besides us were two female waiting staff, the Finks,and a solitary bouncer from the footy club. I felt for him as he was under extreme pressure, cos if anything happened he was completely outgunned.
At the time there was plenty of media hype about outlaw bikie gangs and I was well aware of their reputation. The charismatic leader had some serious neck tattoos going on, the elbows out, and had a menacing presence about him. Not surprisingly the other gang members always found his jokes funny. At one stage he strode past our table , came right up to Dad and I, leaned in and said ” G’day Fellas….Havin a good night?”. It was almost like he respected the fact we didn’t flinch and gave us kudos for not leaving the building. We breathed a sigh of relief and continued to watch the fights.
The gang members were rowdy and boisterous, but were actually playing games with the 11 yo son of the leader.He was the centre of their attention and the members cheered every time the boy did or said something funny. It was then my turn to go to the bar and Dad put me under extreme pressure by requesting of all things ‘a cup of tea’ .
I thought to myself ” ARE YOU SERIOUS??!!…You want me to walk past bikies with a brew of Liptons?”.
So there I am with Dad’s cup of tea walking past the Finks. My hand started to shake as I got closer to the table and I reckon the bikies could hear the cup and saucer clattering as I nervously shuffled past very embarrassed. We then focused on the boxing on the TV screens but always had one eye trained on what the bikies were doing. Dad and I were chatting about how cool it was to be hanging out with the bikies when we heard a loud pop behind my chair. I looked down to see a beer stubbie rolling under the table. I sh*t myself at this point and thought ” Here we go…..it’s started”.
The gang leader immediately raised his hand and yelled out to us ” Sorry Fellas” and gave the little kid a clip behind the ears for throwing it. Dad and I accepted their apology and decided to not make trouble for them…… this time:-)
