Wasted Wednesdays: An Investigation

Wednesdays on the East-End is an untouched savanna of corduroy and tote bags where the 5-day working week comes to die. Centralised at Roxie’s and Cranker, but encompassing most of Rundle Street, the Wasted Wednesday crowd rejects the conventional model that weekends hold exclusive rights for getting off your chops. The genesis of this sacred pub night can be drawn back to the unbeatable drink deals only found in the East End. $3 schooies and $5 spirits drew in young, struggling students who were ready to give up on their week, despite only being half-way through it.

Although in the post-COVID era, Roxie’s and Cranker have tragically dropped their specials, Wednesdays remain a hump-day ritual for those lacking real-life responsibilities. Whilst no longer a cheaper night to drink, the same crowd can be seen, blacked out, on the pavements of Sugar every Thursday morning. As a personal Wasted Wednesday devotee myself, the shocking consistency of the Wednesday crowd only raises disturbing questions. If there is no financial incentive to drink on a Wednesday, what remains so appealing about the midweek sesh? Thus, my search for answers began. What results is a deep dive into the melting pot of cliques found drifting upon Rundle Street on a typical, but hallowed Wednesday. The hot, unobtainable tradie who has got work at 6am

This tradie NEEDS a break from the grind. It’s been 3-days of early morning starts and he’s had it. He’s got a bum bag and a cool hair cut as well as a 10-hour day ahead the next day. He’ll go hard at Cranker and probably moonlight at Fumoblue, but when the clock strikes twelve, he’s nowhere to be found. Although he reckons you’re “really hot”, his prior engagement means you’ll never go home together. At least you gave it a crack!

The uni student who couldn’t care less

“Uni won’t stop me from living my life!” exclaims student with 3 contact hours per week. She’s 5 drinks in because honestly, her only commitment tomorrow is a non-compulsory seminar where she won’t contribute to the class anyway.

The guy hoping to break into radio

Always taking Bitcoin advice from the bloke wearing an AC/DC top because “hey this could be a segment”. He somehow has no commitments but is simultaneously definitely about to make it big on Fresh FM. The contradictions don’t stop there. Despite not having a job, the cash keeps

The Med and Engineering students trying to forget their degrees

The failures and successes of mid-week tests are often unpacked over a pint on the East End. These lads and ladies are well dressed, have hopeful futures and are in the Uber home by 10pm. Not because they’re weak, but because they’ve been on it since the arvo, already won quiz night and they have to do a few tackies before bed. 9am pracs wait for no one.

The goth kids who are definitely headed to Ancient World

They’ll dutifully read the upcoming acts plastered on the Cranker chalk board, down a few schooies then head to the promised land. Ancient World is Adelaide’s indie capital and low-key goes off on a Wednesday. The inclusive crowd is fun, quirky and will bring out the niche political opinions you didn’t know you had. Don’t forget that “NFTs are an ecological nightmare pyramid scheme!”.

Female Triple J listeners in leather jackets

Hobbies include: looking hot at Roxie’s. Curtain bangs: 50% of their personality. Out because the Roxie’s bartender looks a bit like Timothee Chalamet and they need their weekly swoon sesh. The First Years who just found out you can literally drink whenever you want

These guys are throwing out the rule book in a big way. Drinks at the Uni bar during lunch are a gateway drug to Wasted Wednesdays. This group is what can only be described as a vocal minority, whilst their numbers remain small, they’ll definitely make their presence at Roxie’s known. However, come Semester 2, these fresh-faced darlings will dissipate along with the Wednesday novelty and their previous course load of 4 intro topics.

While salvation and redemption may not be found at the bottom of an Exeter jug, an escape from hump-day may be waiting for them there. Whilst each hedonist descends upon Rundle for a distinctive reason, we are all bound by the collective pursuit of getting on the lash.