On second thoughts, I looked at google earth and Arra looks to be less than 1 klik along the beach from Darlo park.
Now that does not represent a problem sober but can you just imagine me trying to get back after dark, possibly at high tide, with a gut full under my belt.
The following day it would look like a scene from one of those lost in the desert movies where they find the dead victim after following a trail of his dead horse and discarded belongings.
In my case it would be:-
1 x bike wheel
1 x other bike wheel
1 x pool of vomit (including half digested BBQ sausage)
1 x pile of runny grog bog (including the other half of the half digested BBQ sausage)
2 x empty Corona's
1 x crappy looking board rack made of nasty chinese steel
2 x full Corona's ("OMG!! this poor souls in real trouble. Quick boys, we must hurry")
1 x Esky (empty apart from more vomit and poo)
1 x witness, a fat chick. When asked if she had seen someone matching my description she replied "Yes, this ugly old dude with bad hair and even worse breath told me I was the hottest thing he's ever seen and would I be interested in a root? I told him to piss off, he went that way.
A little further up the beach and they finally stumble upon my remains. I'm in the fetal position one hand resting gently on my beloved board and the other hand covering my arse hole.
Yes folks, right up until the very end I was still worried about mac being just behind me with that frigg'n bottle of rum.