The Prick, The Australian, And The Aborigin-ay! They All Live Together On Avenue A!

SEATTLE, WA - Last night I had the opportunity to spend a little bit talking to an Australian and an Aborigine. The Aborigine, Gunn, was spectacularly quiet, spending the majority of the conversation sitting in a chair, staring off into the distance. Tim, the Australian, more than made up for this though. He was quite talkative, which I really enjoyed. It was also late in the day and I was becoming worried I really wouldn't meet anyone new and interesting.

We were outside around some patio furniture and I was explaining the nature of my trip to Tim. "Fear and Loathing and whatnot, eh?," he asked. It seems they were on a bit of a road trip themselves. Gunn has some pottery on display in Chicago and that's where they were headed next. Tim seemed excited when he discovered I was from the Chicago area and I told him about some interesting places to check out.

Tim also posed a series of questions to me as a test. He asked what I would say if he were to burn the American flag. I told him that's what the First Amendment is for and he can do as he pleases. Surprisingly, Tim told me I was the first person who didn't get angry at this question. He was shocked that I didn't care, but seemed happy at the same time. He also asked what I would say if he were to call my mother a name. I responded that he didn't know my mother, so, who cares? He seemed pleasantly surprised by this again and laughed, saying he would say the same thing. I asked who Tim had been talking to and he told me mostly sailors, so I told him I wasn't at all surprised by the response then. We talked a little more about politics and opinions and found we felt the same way about most things. Gunn gave a grunt or nod in reply to most of my comments. I'm going to assume he feels the same way too.

In the middle of our conversation, we were greeted by Jeremy. Who was drunk. And an asshole.

Jeremy wandered into the conversation with this line, "Scottish, huh?" We all gave him a blank stare for a moment. Then he repeated it. We all sort of realized at the same time he was asking Tim if he was Scottish... because he had an accent, of course. Tim replied, "A little south, mate."

"So, Irish, huh? Or English?" He emphasized this with a couple more "huhs?" just to help drive the point home.

"Well, about five or six thousand miles more south, mate."

Jeremy stared for a few moments, leaning slightly forward and swaying gently in the cool Seattle breeze.

"Australian!"

"There you have it, ma-" Tim was cut off before he could finish.

"Fuckin' douchebag," interrupted Jeremy.

Tim kind of chuckled while shaking his head and tried making a couple more comments, each time cut off with the now classic line, "Fuckin' douchebag."

I felt it was my duty to inform Jeremy he was "being a prick." His stare turned my way. Ahh, that glorious drunken stare. Just slightly off-balance, with a hint of confusion and that wonderful mix of anger and ignorance. It only lasted a moment before he turned back on Tim.

By now, I had noticed that Jeremy was displaying a bit of an accent himself. So, I asked, "Where are you from?"

"My muddah," he quickly responded. A clever one.

"Alright, where's your 'muddah' from?"

No response. Just the stare again. This conversation was going places.

I gave him another moment and then asked him again, "Where are you from?"

"A little east of west and a little north of south."

Great. Now we were getting somewhere. Of course, he was back at bashing Australia for no apparent reason in any downtime. Tim was being very gracious throughout. Gunn kept up his steady, silent vigil.

At some point, I gathered that Jeremy didn't like the Red Sox, which surprised me because I was starting to pin the accent as Boston. But Jeremy wasn't giving much else and I was beginning to lose hope.

At one point, Tim asked, "Brooklyn?"

Jeremy stopped and stared. It was like his brain was slowly chewing on the information that was coming in. After what was becoming an uncomfortable silence, he finally replied, "Brooklyn's not a bad place..."

Hmm. Now I began to realize that I had no idea why I cared where Jeremy was from. It really didn't matter. He was another ignorant soul giving this country a bad name for no good reason.

It was becoming apparent that Tim was ready to go on about his business and I'm guessing Gunn had felt that way from the get go. I asked quickly if I could grab a picture for my collection and expected Gunn to say no, which I was okay with. I thought the Aborigine tradition was one of no photographs because of a belief that capturing an image can capture one's soul. But apparently Gunn is a modern Aborigine because he was totally fine with it. Fortunately for us, Jeremy didn't want to pass up a photo op, so he became chummy and jumped in the picture.

Can you guess which one is Jeremy?



Jeremy started right back into his bullshit as soon as the picture was done, so I decided I would get chummy with him so they could start to get away. I started gladhanding Jeremy and slapping him as much as I could on the shoulder. It felt kind of good. Lots of comments like, "Man, this has been fun, huh?" And, "Good meetin' ya! Good meetin ya'!"

Tim and Gunn slipped behind me and I spun around, hoping Jeremy would get lost in the confusion. He was.

I parted ways with the other two, politely saying, "I apologize for America."

"No worries, mate," and they walked away.

I spent the rest of the night hanging out with Josh and we had plenty of time to walk around a little bit of the downtown area.



We got to meet plenty of locals. Homeless locals that is. And some guy tried to sell us coke twice. The first time he was offering for free. We ended up running into him again and he explained very sincerely that earlier we were really passing up a very good deal. We thanked him kindly for the offer again and continued on.

We stayed at Josh's cousin's again, which was kind of like having a sleepover. Josh slept on the couch and I slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. Good times. Josh got up to go to work this morning and we said goodbye. I'm heading to Portland sometime this afternoon. I decided I was going back to sleep for an hour because I slept fitfully last night. I ended up sleeping 2 1/2 hours more and got a later start than expected.

While working on this, Josh's cousin, Dana, came downstairs with lunch for me. A plate full of taquitos, an apple, and a nice, tall glass of cold milk. She's such a sweet person. Always smiling. And she has given me a place to crash. It's funny. So much of this trip is going to end up with me relying on the kindness and generosity of other. And yet, I have such a hard time accepting when someone wants to do something nice for me. I suppose this will be a healthy exercise.