Unlikely Tales

Australiana

N.B. No offence is intended to people of American, Indian or Australian nationality.

The businessman stepped out onto the tarmac and braced himself for a scorching blast of Australian heat. Instead he was met with an intimate view of the ground as an impatient passenger shoved past. Climbing to his feet he dusted himself off and gazed with evident disappointment at his surroundings.

The runway was littered with planes of all shapes and sizes, while a hundred yards away the airport building stood grey and imposing against an overcast sky. Well, he thought it's not quite how they advertised it. He followed the other passengers across the tarmac and into the building. Distracted by a didgeridoo display, he wandered into the duty-free store. When he came out he was adorned in full "aussie" regalia – shorts, thongs, a genuine Australian singlet, and one of those hats with the corks on strings dangling from it.

Confident in his disguise, he approached the woman at customs with an enthusiastic "G'day mate!" She frowned at him, accepted his papers and looked past him to the next in line. Confused by her reaction he regarded the person at the next checkpoint warily. Maybe she's having a bad day, he decided. Pasting a broad smile on his face he marched determinedly towards the next counter.

Twenty minutes later he stood outside the airport, savouring the fresh air. Spying a free taxi he hailed the driver and started towards it; only to be forestalled by a woman in a business suit who sprinted out of the airport and jumped into the cab. After four more similar attempts, the businessman's temper was fraying, and his patience was nearing its end. When the next unoccupied taxi pulled up he dashed towards it, roaring "Mine!" Earning shocked looks from the other commuters and a dubious glance from the driver.

Feeling foolish he settled into the back of the cab and tried to look inconspicuous. An awkward moment passed, then another, and the businessman looked questioningly at the driver before realising he hadn't given any directions. "Um, Brunswick Street in Fortitude Valley. Mate."

The driver gave him an inscrutable glance, taking in his strange attire, as the businessman congratulated himself on his use of Aussie slang.

As they drove past some scrubby bushes he saw a brown shape flash between them. Wow, a kangaroo! He thought. The driver looked at him strangely, wondering why the foreigner was pointing so excitedly at a stray dog.

Heartened by his first encounter with the native Australian wildlife, the businessman observed his surroundings with renewed enthusiasm. Looking around, he noticed they were entering the more heavily populated suburbs of outer Brisbane. He rolled down his window, enjoying the sights and sounds of the foreign city.

"Hey mate, can we go past the Opera House?"

The driver looked at him uncertainly, "There is no opera house in Brisbane sir," he said, speaking with a distinct Indian accent.

"Sure there is! The one with the funnily shaped white roof."

"That would be in Sydney sir."

"Oh... can we go there?"

The driver looked at him askance, "It is nearly one thousand kilometres away!"

Silence reigned for a few moments, and then: "Well what about that big rock then – Airy Rock?"

"That is also very far away, sir."

Disgruntled and humiliated by his show of ignorance, the businessman burst out "Do you have anything here?" Stung by the insult to his adopted city, the driver refrained from answering.

The remainder of the ride was spent in tight-lipped silence, only broken when they arrived in the Valley. The businessman paid the driver and stepped out for his first encounter with Brisbane. Relieved to be rid of him, the taxi driver quickly moved off into the milling traffic.

The businessman turned around and discovered the cab, and with it his luggage, was gone. As he desperately searched the street for some sign of the taxi, the previously overcast sky turned stormy. Within moments he was soaked to the skin as a stinging deluge of warm water pelted down.

Taking refuge in a bus shelter he retrieved his phone from his pocket, determined to take his fury out on the taxi company. His mobile was soaked and let out an electronic whine before the screen flickered and died. He eyed the busy street disconsolately.

What a terrible holiday, if I didn't know better I would have thought the plane had turned around and dumped me back in New York.

He fingered his wallet, one of his few remaining possessions, and eyed the welcoming light spilling from the familiar golden M across the street. Why not? He thought.

Entering the McDonald's store he noticed people looking hostilely at his dripping clothes and the puddles they left on the floor. Becoming irritated, he approached the counter in a show of defiance. As the checkout girl rang up his purchase he reached for his wallet and found... nothing. He fumbled in his pockets as the girl looked on with rising suspicion.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind and propelled out of the store by a burly security guard. His composure snapped at this final indignity.

"You can't do this to me! I'm a respectable American citizen." The guard's contemptuous expression maddened the businessman further.

"We gave you everything, without us you wouldn't even have McDonald's you bastard! How dare you exclude me, we gave you everything! We made you!" Unnerved by his own raving he stumbled away from the store, back into the rain and the familiar cruelty of the city.