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“Oh, you’re from Australia…What are you doing in New York??”

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When my housemate – in New York – decided to pretend he was my drunken abusive boyfriend, to scare away unwanted AirBnb guests and thus get his bedroom back, I said sure, do what you want, it’s your apartment, do whatever you want get rid of them.

Then I met our Australian guest.
Tall, fit, laid-back…arrogant, smarmy and just your usual fucking Aussie.
And I had forgotten what it was like to be around Australian men. I had forgotten this.
Because this guy so clearly wanted to fight.
I told my housemate,
“You cannot pretend to be my abusive boyfriend. I know Australian men, and that guy will fight you. He may not win the fight but everything in this apartment will be broken; the neighbours will call the cops. That guy will absolutely fight you.”
And that is not something I can say I have ever instantly picked up from an American.
Because that is an Aussie thing.
The drunken Aussie guy who fights.
Violent. Drunk. White. Australians.
And I reflected on my experience of America versus Australia.
In New York, I live in a party house, there is booze and drugs and lots of people and always someone hung over on the couch in the morning. The living room at noon each day is littered with empty bottles and cigarette butts and rolled up dollar bills.
And not once has there been a fight.
In Melbourne, I lived in a party house. I would come home to my childhood friends fighting each other in the driveway. I would go around them into the house and take a shower, come out and hear another fight happening on the porch. I would go to my room and hear the sounds of sliding glass doors slam, people yell in their most placating tones, scuffling and shoes squeaking on the porch deck. Thumps vibrating through the whole house.
These were fights between best friends, between my friends and my neighbours; between my friends and strangers. These were fights that happened every night.
I thought of this today when I reflected on that AirBnb guest who my housemate – fortunately – did not get to see and fight.
That guest was the first Australian man I have seen in 11 months.
And I’m glad I did.
Because people ask me all the time what I’m doing in New York.
And now instead of asking myself this, I ask myself, what was I doing in Australia?

Filed under: Notes from the Wild, That's New York Tagged: brooklyn, couchsurfing, melbourne

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