One of those encounters that introduce you to the side of a city that you always knew existed, but never really met, because partly you avoided, and is totally unexpected, but can happen anytime.
Its been 15 months since I came here for a doctorate. As I have been living with my brother in the suburb, my schedule has been too narrow to allow me to enjoy what the city of Melbourne has to offer for evening/night life. Hence it didn't really matter that I was in Melbourne, for almost a year. Now since there are two cars in the house, I have the flexibility in schedule to pursue some of my interests and get to know the city. Now I can say I live near Melbourne, but not yet in Melbourne.
Today morning I was driving back after dropping my niece Reva at the child care. Stopping at the crossing of Sayers Road and Tarneit Road, I noticed this white van/ute on my right, with an white guy sitting in it and just like that, gave me the finger. He was wearing the same gloves as I was, probably both made in China, yet was in another world.
I gestured "What for?" and he didn't think I would respond, he expected me to ignore him. I rolled down my window, he rolled down his, and I asked again, "What is it about?" He was acting like a typical guy, and started to get more agitated as it went on.
"Fuck off! Fuck off back to your country, you piece of shit," he blared at me.
Oh how amusing.. a real bogan! He was a tradie, or so they are called here: blokes driving utes, wearing the florescent jackets, rugged like a two day old pile of shit, possibly barely finished high school, and watching bogan television and all that, the whole package. Only that would make you pick on strangers to intimidate them.
"Oh yeah? And where are you from? You motherfucker!" I shouted back.
"What?" he asked dumbly.
"Where are you from, you motherfucker?" I asked again.
At which point, like most insecure people do, he rolled up his window and drove off into the green signal. Of course, the incident has left me rattled, to the point that I resorted to writing about it, and unnecessarily risk 'putting it down in extended memory' when I should have just come back, made coffee and done something else.
But meeting two dumb, racist drunks in the lucky country should go down in memory.
Its been 15 months since I came here for a doctorate. As I have been living with my brother in the suburb, my schedule has been too narrow to allow me to enjoy what the city of Melbourne has to offer for evening/night life. Hence it didn't really matter that I was in Melbourne, for almost a year. Now since there are two cars in the house, I have the flexibility in schedule to pursue some of my interests and get to know the city. Now I can say I live near Melbourne, but not yet in Melbourne.
Today morning I was driving back after dropping my niece Reva at the child care. Stopping at the crossing of Sayers Road and Tarneit Road, I noticed this white van/ute on my right, with an white guy sitting in it and just like that, gave me the finger. He was wearing the same gloves as I was, probably both made in China, yet was in another world.
I gestured "What for?" and he didn't think I would respond, he expected me to ignore him. I rolled down my window, he rolled down his, and I asked again, "What is it about?" He was acting like a typical guy, and started to get more agitated as it went on.
"Fuck off! Fuck off back to your country, you piece of shit," he blared at me.
Oh how amusing.. a real bogan! He was a tradie, or so they are called here: blokes driving utes, wearing the florescent jackets, rugged like a two day old pile of shit, possibly barely finished high school, and watching bogan television and all that, the whole package. Only that would make you pick on strangers to intimidate them.
"Oh yeah? And where are you from? You motherfucker!" I shouted back.
"What?" he asked dumbly.
"Where are you from, you motherfucker?" I asked again.
At which point, like most insecure people do, he rolled up his window and drove off into the green signal. Of course, the incident has left me rattled, to the point that I resorted to writing about it, and unnecessarily risk 'putting it down in extended memory' when I should have just come back, made coffee and done something else.
But meeting two dumb, racist drunks in the lucky country should go down in memory.
