Tag: something i saw

Joan pokes fun of people who aren’t here to defend themselves

I went to the TLC Ball at Winchester Guildhall 2007 on Saturday night. There were three rooms, one each for salsa, swing and Argentine tango. Besides feeling terrified about asking people to dance and feeling guilty about being scared, I quite enjoyed the ball (I used to be more confident but I haven’t danced in a while).

But I do need to say this about the ball: I have never seen so many badly dressed women in my life. Everything was too tight and too shiny. Cleavage threatened to escape their alotted space. There were dress and trousers (!) slits in the wrong places. One girl I’m thinking of would have looked been fine — if only she had stopped before wrapping her grandmother’s aquamarine woollen shawl around her waist.

People say that the English have little sense of style. Was it any worse than I’ve seen in Australia? It must have been. I’m not much of a fashion watcher so I wouldn’t have noticed unless there was evidence of extraordinary bad taste.

To be honest, it might have been an ‘older women at a dance party’ phenomenon and my pattern observations were skewed by a few badly dressed young women.

Tearing down the rainbow

I was waiting for a friend in the surgery waiting room. Beside me, a mother was reading to her daughter on her lap. It must have been a kid’s science book or something. I heard mum say ‘lightning’, ‘space’ and ‘plants’.

The mother read, “Sometimes, after when it rains, there is a beautiful rainbow in the sky.” The little girl bounced up and down. Mum asked her, “Do you know how rainbows are made?”

“Oh! Oh! I know this, I really do!” The girl was excited. She concentrated. “Mmmmm…I do know… After lots of rain, God made the rainbow to promise that it would never rain lots again!” She looked at mum, triumphant that she had remembered her lessons.

Mum laughed. “Er…yes. That’s… one way to say it. Another way is that sunlight can be split up into lots of colours. Did you know that?”

“No!” the girl cried.

Mum ploughed on. “The light gets split up in the raindrops… But I wonder why the rainbow is curved?”

The look on the little girl’s face — it was like she had just been told Santa didn’t exist.

It might have been a coincidence

I was sitting in the car at an intersection. There was a group of eight young people mucking around at the corner. One guy had a girl by the waist and swung her around. Some were chasing each other around, while others chatted.

They wore normal teenage clothing — jeans, t-shirts, jumpers — but it struck me they were all wearing the same shade of grey. It might have been a coincidence, that the eight of them were wearing white, denim blue, black and that grey. But there were no other colours.

Then I saw one of them bouncing a big yoga ball. It was the same shade of grey too.

Dignity

There was an under-13 hiphop troupe dancing to ‘My Humps‘ by the Black Eyed Peas. It’s a catchy song with obnoxious lyrics. It was also very popular at Crown this year. This would have been the tenth time I’d heard it.

Something was badly wrong with their CD, though. It kept skipping. The girls were fantastic. They just kept going and even when it jumped a bar or two ahead, they readjusted their dancing to keep up.

Everyone was horrified at how badly it was going — and the fact the DJ kept it going. It was torture. Usually in these situations, the DJ will stop the CD, clean it or find an alternative version, and put it back on so that the troupe can start again. But these girls kept ploughing through.

At the end, everyone cheered and clapped. It was the roar of sympathy and respect. The girls, so young and so professional, bowed and left the floor. Many of them were crying. It was the biggest competition of the year and their one chance to perform was ruined by something they couldn’t control.

Later in the night, it was time for the under-16 hiphop event. According to the program, there were eleven troupes in this section. However, after the final troupe had danced, they announced a late-registered twelfth item. The under-13 troupe with the skipping CD had been allowed to dance up a level. They had a second chance!

Everyone cheered when they came onto the floor. The music streamed out clearly and they began their routine. One minute later, inexplicably, the music stopped. I whipped around to look at the DJ, shocked. This was the last thing this troupe needed. What was going on?

The girls paused, uncertain. But, from the sidelines, without skipping a beat, their friends from the dance studio were singing. They continued from where the song had stopped. ‘My Humps’ was the song of the month, everyone knew the lyrics. Hell, after hearing every fifth troupe dance to it, even the most pop-clueless in the room knew the lyrics.

The singing swelled as people joined in. Encouraged, the girls started dancing again. They danced the rest of the verse and a chorus before the DJ restarted the track. It was the greatest audience participation I had ever seen in a dance competition.

Am I so uncharitable?

I got onto the train and sat down in front of a couple with their three year old daughter. She was a cute chubby little girl with blonde curls. No wonder the parents cuddled her so.

She was eating something. It looked like a slice of ham, one of those pink circle pieces. She finished it and made a small noise. Mum peeled back the lid of the clear plastic container in her lap and gave her daughter another piece of ham.

After one or two minutes, the child had finished her ham again. “More!” she said. Mum took another piece of ham out, gave it to her and continued talking to dad.

At this point, I looked at mum and dad thoughtfully. They were both quite overweight. The toddler wasn’t overweight — yet. I started feeling a little anxious.

The toddler finished her ham and gestured urgently for more. Mum paused and said, “What do you say?”

“Please,” the girl mumbled. Mum smiled indulgently and gave her another piece. When that one was finished, the girl, of course wanted another. Mum exclaimed, “Don’t they feed you in daycare!” And gave her another piece.

By this time, I was quite distressed. Every time I thought mum would put the tub away, she acceded to another demand for ham. Are these people clueless? How can you live in modern society and not understand the basics of healthy eating? What about moderation? Processed meats for a child! Okay, one or two or even three pieces. Maybe more in a sandwich, even. But as a never ending food pacifier? Do you know how much salt and fat is in processed meat?

I usually give people the benefit of the doubt. I considered, “Maybe the kid hasn’t eaten all day. Maybe the ham is lean and organic. Maybe the ham is an alternative to her usual chocolates and chips.”

But in the end, nothing I could imagine could excuse the sight of parents blithely handing over a whole tub of ham, sliver by sliver, to a kid who should have the healthiest start to her life.

I wanted to say something. I wish I had some grapes to offer them. Why aren’t people licenced to be parents?

Trouble on platforms 5 & 6

It was almost dark when I stepped out of the train at Richmond station. I hoped I didn’t have to wait long for my connecting train. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dark flying towards the train.

“THOCK!”

It rebounded off the train window. I looked down. It was a large rock, dark grey and angular. It was big. I wouldn’t have been able to wrap my hand around it.

“THOCK!”

I recoiled as another rock flew by. A man staggered past me. He stopped some distance ahead. He wound up his arm again and this time I saw him hurl another rock at the departing train, throwing his entire body forward in the effort. The train passengers inside ducked back away from the window.

Alert and alarmed, I walked casually towards the downward ramp. As soon as I passed the rock-thrower, I began jogging to the ticket barriers, where I knew there would be train staff.

“Excuse me,” I called to the two staff members as I approached thee exit. “There’s a gentleman on platform 5 and 6 throwing rocks at trains. They’re big rocks.”

“Really?! What does he look like?” asked the woman.

“He’s wearing a dark blue t-shirt with white writing on it. He’s got dark hair, I think.”

The male staff member began speaking rapidly into his radio. “There’s a man throwing rocks on platforms 5 and 6…”

I waited for a short while then looked back towards the platforms. And there he was, leaning against the wall about five metres away. The rock-thrower stared balefully at me. I stepped a little bit away from the people talking into radios.

“There he is,” I said in a low voice. The staff stopped talking and looked at the still man.

“That’s him?”

“I think so. Yes.”

The male staff member passed through the ticket barrier and walked up to the man. “Hey mate. Where are you going?”

The rock-thrower exploded into action. “I’m going home!” he shouted, stumbling away from the wall. “I wanna go home! I WANNA GO HOME!” He looked at me again then ran up the ramp.

The staff member whipped out the radio again. “He’s on platforms 3 and 4 now. We’ll need help…”

“Don’t worry,” said the woman. “We’ll take it from here.”

I nodded and walked backed to my train platform.

Gambling

I was sitting in a crowded tram when the door whooshed open and two ticket inspectors stepped up. They swiped their magic ‘access all areas’ cards and stood in the doorway, talking.

At the next stop, a tall Asian youth (international student?) entered the tram and froze. The ticket inspectors glanced at him. I could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I have to buy a ticket,” he said slowly.

The inspectors moved to let him past. He stayed in his spot.

“I need to check if I have coins,” he said. He pulled out his wallet. After flicking through the compartments, he carefully put the wallet away.

“No coins,” one of the inspectors murmured.

“I don’t have any coins.”

The inspectors looked at each other and sighed. “Where are you going?”

“Just to Melbourne Uni. [pause] Is that okay?”

Surely they’ve been through this before,” I thought. “Those damned tram ticket machines only accept coins.”

“You’ve got a few options, mate,” one of the officials stated. “You can get off at the next stop…”

“I’ve got coins,” someone piped up. “I’ll change it for you… if you’ve got a five.” Ooh, some nice person was being helpful. Hey! (double take) That was me talking!

The student jerked his head towards me and looked through his wallet again. “I don’t have a five,” he said calmly. He focused back on the ticket inspectors. “Can I stay? Is that okay?”

“We’re not going to say it’s okay or not,” they said.

He appeared to be pondering this.

“Here, let me give you some coins.” I offered up a gold two dollar coin and a one dollar coin. “You can pay me back the next time I see you on a tram.”

He shrugged and shook his head.

The four of us waited in silence as the tram rumbled by three more stops. At last, we reached Melbourne University. The doors whooshed open and everyone, including the inspectors, stepped out.