Feral
Disco dancing was the order of the night, my feet are blistered and I’m 100% cream crackered, but there’s no rest for the wicked I’m afraid. Lauren had work today so she couldn’t come out last night so now I’m forced. forced. to do it all over again.
Went for drinks at our mate’s hostel, there was quite a group of us, around 9 or so. Lauren could make it for this bit, (and as I recall even managed to put away a whole bottle of sparkling before going home!) A particularly rude Australian sat down with us and before long he was insulting the entire group, spoiling for a fight, and bouncing around putting his dukes up like a right tit. It was a bit tragic really, never seen anyone become so hated by strangers so quickly before. He was the sort of guy who made extremely racist remarks about races that weren’t at the table and tried to get you nodding along. Needless to say he was stonewalled by all of us, before coming out with some genuinely cracking insults. I mean truly. I don’t quite recall, but I think I may have mentioned earlier how when we were living in the red light district of St Kilda on arrival in Melbourne, someone had daubed on a wall ‘Ellen Thompson is a rat!’ This is the red light district! Surely there is a stronger vocabulary than that to describe that rat Ellen Thompson. The Ozzy last night though, showed me how insults out here can occasionally miss the mark. One pearler was (when having a rant at me,) ‘yea, you’re wearing glasses and you’ve got a pretty girl.’ I digested this, and rescanned it in case I missed the sarcasm. There wasn’t. This feral imp honestly considered Lauren being pretty to be insulting to me. Was I meant to thank him? Was this psychological warfare on such a deep level that it is so subtle that years from now I’ll wake up screaming? Was he just a little retarded? Hmm…
Before long though he became more of a nuisance than a focal point of mirth so one of the girls in the group called out the big guns, Rasheed the night manager. Our Ozzy champ though wouldn’t go down without an event (his words,) and in the end a squad car had to be called to evict him. Hours later, we saw him a few blocks from the hostel being beaten up by a taxi driver for some heinous crime. That’ll learn him.
So, onto the night itself. T’was alright. We saw some guy called Luciano who’s meant to be quite big on the techno scene. I know nothing about said scene and I gotta admit that a lot of it sounded like robots talking to each other. I found 50 bucks on the dancefloor when I had run out of money. 4 Stella’s later and I’m not so sure that it was such a good thing. I came rolling in at around 8am.
There were two smack-heads arguing on the train on the way home too, last thing I needed as my hangover stated to kick in proper, I even learned some new heroin jargon from their heated debate. Rozzle some goodies anyone?
Tonight we’re heading into a new suburb. The name of which entirely eludes me now. It’s a big thing on the backpackers scene. There’s a restaurant called Bimbo’s that does $4 gormet pizzas. Word like that gets around. Then on for some drinks, I think Lauren’s work friends are out tonight too so that’ll be grand.
Hmm… reading back over this post makes Melbourne seem a bit scummy. It’s not at all, I’ve never felt threatened here. Promise. I think it’s more that the destitute folk are so much more vocal here than back home. Or maybe it’s that I don’t use public transport at home but here it’s a daily procedure, and if there’s one thing that slightly scummy people like doing, it’s venting their feelings to each other on public transport. Bless ’em.
Tags: Australia, Melbourne, Travel
mikeloken
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