How would you like to jet into the sub-tropical playground that is Townsville absolutely FREE? You're right. Silly question. How would you like to jet into the sub-tropical playground that is Townsville absolutely FREE, knowing you can fly out just as fast and it won't cost you any more? Travel editor Don Gordon-Brown explains how.

Raking in the dough in the Deep Norf, A!

The first order came in roughly around 1am.
We'd been in a deep sleep so it took a while for it to sink in what the caller wanted.
"I'm sorry... who did you say?" I mumbled. We'd only gone to bed an hour earlier, kept awake by one of those typical roomguests who won't take the hint and piss off until the conversation has well and truly run dry. You probably know the guy: Johnny Walker.
"Yeah, mate," the male caller said. "Two large sized supreme pizzas, A."
"I think you've got the wrong number, buddy."
"Right. You'd better make them family size, A. Hold on a sec. What's that, guys? Yeah, righto. With anchovies, A."
"Mate, you've gotten through to a motel room in Townsville."
"Better make them panfried, A."
It took a few minutes but after I calmly explained to the caller that: a. my name was not A and b: he had called a motel room, not a pizza delivery number, he hung up without further ado or apology.
We had just nestled back into our comfy bed at the reasonably priced Seagulls motel (pictured, right) when the phone jangled again.
"Yeah, hi, mate. Two family sized pizza supremes....with anchovies, A"
I recognised the voice and this time asked whom he thought he was calling. No, this was not Dominos, I explained. It was a motel room in Townsville and could he please stop ringing it if at all possible.
It was a point that finally sunk in about three minutes and four calls later.
"If I ever find out where this prick lives," I growled when the phone rang a few minutes later, "I'm gonna kill him with my bare hands."
"Evening, mate," a different voice said. "I want to order some pizzas, please."
My "Let me guess!" fairly dripped with sarcasm. "Two family sized pizza supremes....with anchovies.........(pause for effect).... A!"
"No, not at all. I want a large beef lovers and a small vegetarian."
"This is not Dominos," I butted in wearily.
"I know that," voice said. "Isn't this Pizza Hut takeaway?"
No, sir, indeed it wasn't. Goodnight. And God bless.
We let the phone ring away merrily for a while without answering it. We sat upright in bed, now rather glum that Johnny Walker had run out on us earlier. Eventually we pulled the phone plug out of the wall socket and caught 40 pre-dawn winks between us.
"There was a crossed phone line in our room last night," I complained to the day manager several hours later. "We kept getting calls to Dominos and Pizza Hut all bloody night!" A little exaggeration is permitted to stress a protest point, don't you think?
He spied our room key number on the desk. "Ahh, that explains it, A."
"Explains what, B?"
"Your room number. 311. That's the first three digits of the pizza takeaway places in town here, A."
"So."
"It would have been other motel guests here last night trying to ring for a pizza and forgetting to dial 0 first, A."
Sorry, no, but the manager could not give out details of which rooms made calls during the night.

***

The first order came in roughly around 1am.
"Can I take your order, please," I said pleasantly. "Yeah, mmmm. uhh uhh. Okay, so that's two Pizza supremes, panfried. Would sir be interested in our current special of two large pizzas, garlic bread and 25 litre Pepsi and family apple pie? Yeah? Fine. How long? About 20 minutes. And, hey, thanks for calling Pizza Hut."
My partner jotted down the orders and phoned them through on the mobile while I fielded other orders on the motel phone. As pizzas were delivered to our room 311, my partner doffed her little red cap and walked them upstairs and across the way to the grateful customers.
"Good evening. Yes, this is Dominos. Could you please hold a minute." We were fairly exhausted by daybreak, but we figured what the heck, we weren't going to get any sleep anyway. And pissed guys late at night never seem too worried about a harmless little markup on takeaway tucker.

***

"$42.50," my partner said. "Not bad for a few hours work." It's then that we realised that we were sitting on a goldmine.
"This is a fairly small motel compared to some in town," I agreed. "So you don't get a big swag of cretins booked in who forget to dial 0 first."
"You know, if we got out of here this morning and booked in at one of the much-bigger motels, making sure we ask for room 311, we could make hundreds of dollars a night. Easy. More, if it was a motel full of really stupid people."
My partner jumped off the bed excitedly. "I think Manly are in town to play the Cowboys this weekend. If room 311 whereever they're staying is free, we'll clean up. Make enough money to cover our return airfares from Brisbane!"
"Just think," I replied, "If it had been Wests, we'd be flying home business-first."