'The Backpackers Guide to Australia'
"I didn’t realise until it was almost too late, but it wasn’t the first time we had met.
Arriving at the Original Backpackers in Kings Cross, the originality part ultimately, naively, having swung my decision to stay there, had, so far, been anything but uneventful. In truth though, and while that is what I had hoped for, it had been eventful for all the wrong reasons.
Jumping from the taxi, throwing my thus far rather new looking, but much travelled, backpack over my shoulder, I stood and watched as it pulled away from the kerb, wondering did I tip him enough then thinking maybe I shouldn’t have tipped him at all. If I was going to be a backpacker, it was time I started acting like one. Up the steps to the front door and in I go.
An Asian man holds a guy with dreadlocks against the back wall, his arm placed menacingly across his throat. There’s another flipping through what I assume to be a registration book on the counter. A third steps from my right, I hadn’t noticed him when I came in, and calmly places his hand on my chest. His look tells me I’ve come at a bad time. A quick glimpse of a knife hidden inside his jacket tells me he’s right. Time slows down as first dreadlock dude, and then the other two men turn to face me. What seems like an eternity passes before the guy casually flips the registration book closed and pushes it across the counter and onto the floor. The tension is broken as his partner releases dreadlock dude from his hold.
“Maybe we see you again”, he says, slapping him lightly on the face. It sounds like a warning.
As they walk towards the door to leave, my guy pushes me casually to the side then takes his hand from my chest. They smile as they pass and while I turn to watch the door close, I wonder at the surrealism of it all. I’d wanted excitement and this was as good as it could get.
Dreadlock dude is by my side.
‘What was that all about?’ I ask.
‘No clue man, no clue....’ is the reply.
The three Asian men are already gone, blending seamlessly into the hustle and bustle of the street outside. As we stand there and I wonder ‘did that really happen at all’, I notice a girl standing on the other side of the street. Nothing out of the ordinary except she looks like she’s hiding from someone, slowly peeking from a shop front doorway, looking directly at the hostel, and, it seems, directly at me.
‘You still want to stay here?’ dreadlocks asks.
‘Yeah, sure mate’ I say.
When I look back to the street, the girl is gone."
"I didn’t realise until it was almost too late, but it wasn’t the first time we had met.
Arriving at the Original Backpackers in Kings Cross, the originality part ultimately, naively, having swung my decision to stay there, had, so far, been anything but uneventful. In truth though, and while that is what I had hoped for, it had been eventful for all the wrong reasons.
Jumping from the taxi, throwing my thus far rather new looking, but much travelled, backpack over my shoulder, I stood and watched as it pulled away from the kerb, wondering did I tip him enough then thinking maybe I shouldn’t have tipped him at all. If I was going to be a backpacker, it was time I started acting like one. Up the steps to the front door and in I go.
An Asian man holds a guy with dreadlocks against the back wall, his arm placed menacingly across his throat. There’s another flipping through what I assume to be a registration book on the counter. A third steps from my right, I hadn’t noticed him when I came in, and calmly places his hand on my chest. His look tells me I’ve come at a bad time. A quick glimpse of a knife hidden inside his jacket tells me he’s right. Time slows down as first dreadlock dude, and then the other two men turn to face me. What seems like an eternity passes before the guy casually flips the registration book closed and pushes it across the counter and onto the floor. The tension is broken as his partner releases dreadlock dude from his hold.
“Maybe we see you again”, he says, slapping him lightly on the face. It sounds like a warning.
As they walk towards the door to leave, my guy pushes me casually to the side then takes his hand from my chest. They smile as they pass and while I turn to watch the door close, I wonder at the surrealism of it all. I’d wanted excitement and this was as good as it could get.
Dreadlock dude is by my side.
‘What was that all about?’ I ask.
‘No clue man, no clue....’ is the reply.
The three Asian men are already gone, blending seamlessly into the hustle and bustle of the street outside. As we stand there and I wonder ‘did that really happen at all’, I notice a girl standing on the other side of the street. Nothing out of the ordinary except she looks like she’s hiding from someone, slowly peeking from a shop front doorway, looking directly at the hostel, and, it seems, directly at me.
‘You still want to stay here?’ dreadlocks asks.
‘Yeah, sure mate’ I say.
When I look back to the street, the girl is gone."
