Night on the Town

You may or may not know by now that Kane and I don't often venture to a place you would call "out on the town". We are homebodies; boring to the core, forever searching the internet for more interesting places to go and more ridiculous things to laugh at. We work, we eat, we clean, we internet. For the most part, that's the majority of our existence. But we do live in bursts of excitement. For example, we work and save and save and then go on good, solid trips to fun places. And that's how we do it right now: boring boring boring - BAM! - repeat.

But, there are certain unforeseen cosmic circumstances that inevitably arise and force us from our comfort zones and out into the world. Last night was one of those times. Two of our friends, Janna and Dom, were in town for a wedding: they had flown in from Sydney which is about an hour from their home. We met and bonded with this Aussie couple in Thailand on the famed bus ride back from Pai (actually, you may recall the bus ride there being slightly more memorable, or at least I do). We only saw them a couple times in Thailand, but they seemed really cool and we've maintained a healthy Facebook contact with them ever since. Janna's cousin's wedding just outside Melbourne gave them a good excuse to come down to Victoria and see Melbourne for a day, so we invited them to stay with us for the night.

It wasn't a terribly extravagant plan for a Friday night: chat for a while, have some dinner out, drop by the casino, and come home for the night. Certainly nothing that Kane and I couldn't handle. But it proved to be an interesting night nonetheless due to a few unexpected big city surprises.

First of all, I would like to mention the trams. I love the trams in Melbourne. They basically have allowed us to live here without owning a car, which has been excellent. We tram to work each day and can tram most anywhere else of interest, though, as mentioned, you will most often find us huddled in our apartment. We typically experience the trams by day: dignified, relatively clean, full of business people and little old ladies. Nothing to fear. But come night, the trams become packed with the drunk, homeless, drag queens, gothies, rowdy boys, etc, etc. And it's not wholly unexpected; this is a big city after all. I am nevertheless still surprise and bewildered by night time tram rides. At least we were traveling with a group of four people which is nearly impenetrable to any outside forces - sinister, begging, or otherwise.

We took the tram up to try a new Ethiopian place, which turned out to be not as good as our original place in Footscray, but was still nice. It was Jan and Dom's first time trying Ethiopian, so that was fun too. As we pulled up to our stop near the restaurant, we heard the sounds of a scuffle outside and turned to see two men who appeared to be fighting. I initially assumed they were teenagers just playing around, but when one of the men turned, I could see he was older. Shortly after that, it became obvious that they were both quite drunk. They were actually fighting. Dom suggested that maybe we stay on for one more stop to get away from them, but I overrode this decision when one of the men jumped onto the tram. We exited quickly from another door as the man began ranting and screaming in the aisle of the tram among a couple dozen bewildered onlookers.

Dom had graciously shoved his way in front of Janna to get off the tram first - which we proceeded to laugh at him for. The second fighting man was still on our street corner grumbling and making random comments. We were about ten feet away when he yelled "Next time I'll be sober and I'll f'ing kill you!" at the tram-bound man, which provided further entertainment for us and likely many others nearby. Good. Freaking. Times. I love public transport. We proceeded to the Ethiopian place a block away without being accosted by any undesirables, save a mannequin store that had some...anatomically interesting mannequins on display. They served for much amusement also (we're so mature).

After dinner Janna wanted to see the famed Crown Casino so we headed over to Southbank to lose some $$. I think we may have accidentally ended up waiting at the crack-whore/prostitute/Amy Winehouse-look-alike tram stop because it was quite an odd crowd at this particular location. The tram ride down to the casino even proved to be eventful after it was graced by a group of young French men, all of whom decided that it was completely necessary to sing French songs at the tops of their voices while jumping around the tram. It was interesting. Janna and I agreed that we would rather they were singing than bashing people. And with that, we made it to the casino.

I am typically one for the penny slots as I prefer to lose $1 over the course of ten minutes rather than $20. Dom was feeling adventurous and bet on some digital roulette (which I find far less fun that a real roulette table) and actually won $4. Go Dom! With his winnings we did a couple slots and then headed over to a $2.50 minimum real roulette table (this is the cheapest you can find). Dom only had $3 in change but they guy wouldn't give chips to under $5, so I contributed $2 so that we could get two chips. Dom put his on number 35 and I put mine in the corner of the 5, 6, 8, 9 squares, I think. And the number that came up was 8!! I was sooo excited. I won $20, with which Dom and I bet one more time each on roulette, lost, then cashed out $15. It was awesome.

The cab ride home was nearly uneventful, save an encounter with a...less than competent driver in front of us...and then we chatted a bit before going to bed. We had a really great time with Jan and Dom; I'm so glad they came by! Yeay, now we can actually say that we have some Aussie friends. Who would have guessed?

Tas Pics and Videos

We took a ton of photos and a few videos on our trip, and I thought I'd make a special effort to post them on my blog-ula. I'm learning how to upload to youtube (look at me, all posh) and link the videos here. First, I will give my Picasa photo site another plug since I've finally posted all the good pictures and panoramics and added captions to them all for your viewing pleasure.

See here for Tassie pictures!

And here are a couple of the videos we took of the furry cuties we encountered:

First, let's get a close up of my cute friend the pademelon (paddy-melon), even though I didn't know that was his name when I took the video:


Next is a little short video of a couple Devils hanging out and being cute:


And here's another one of me feeding a wallaby:

Tasmania Schmazmania

Back in Melbourne: done! I think I could go on perpetual vacations with about three or four days of "home time" in between to recuperate, organize pictures, wash everything, bother Marc and Alana, and sleep in my own bed. With that schedule, I bet I would be happy to vacation forever and ever. I was reminded that I was in Melbourne and not in backwater Tassie today as I walked down the street of the CBD and found myself passing on my right: a man wearing a fuscia suit (where does one acquire this, I do not know) playing a violin behind an upturned hat on the sidewalk; and on my left: an extremely unconvincing Asian drag queen being ushered down the street by another man who was hard to notice through all this. Welcome back to the friggin city.

Tassie was a good time overall. We had a hard time planning the damn thing because it's extreme-massive-everyone-flee-to-the-south-most-state time of year, and the weather was less than desirable for a good chunk of the time. But overall, Tassie was nice, it was fun, and the animal experiences we got were totally worth it.

I am currently working on a Tasmania in Ten Days website to document our trip and provide travel advice to others, which I will post here when it's more complete. I have posted pictures on my picasa for your viewing pleasure, but I had better give you guys some info on the trip, huh?! I'm feeling a list coming on...

Top 4 Cool Things in Tasmania:
In no particular order...

1. The Wildlife. This actually probably would be #1 if these were in a particular order, which, as indicated from the note above, they are most certainly not. The Tasmanian Devil now exculsively exists in Tasmania, though they used to live elsewhere in Australia also. A massive epidemic of facial tumors has wiped out much of the population and the experts estimate that there will be no more wild devils in 10-15 years since they can find neither a cause nor a cure of the disease. Sanctuaries are gathering up healthy devils and breeding them in captivity such that a genetically diverse population is sustained if a cure is not found. The devils themselves are very small and cute animals and they won't bother you unless you get in the way of their food or get near them when they're in an enclosure. In the wild, they'll just run away from you if you can even manage to find one. They're very elusive, as is most of the nocturnal wildlife in Tassie. Everyone sleeps in the day and dines at night, save the birds. The Roos, wallabies, pademelons, wombats, echidnas, and devils are all nocturnal marsupials (save the echidna which is a monotreme, like a platypus). It's such an amazing difference from the wildlife of North America! And there are really no predators; the Devils are scavengers along with many of the birds, and all the others noted above are veggos. It's quite bizarre; there's not really a food chain like there is elsewhere.

2. Animal Sanctuaries. Though this is related to the first item, I think it should get its own category. The wildlife of Tassie is amazing, but we would not be able to appreciate it nearly as much without the many, many sanctuaries functioning throughout the state. Some are excellent, and some aren't so great, but either way, they're pretty much all in the business of preserving the un-infected population of devils, having the nocturnals in enclosures for us day walkers to observe, and most of them also do rehabilitation and/or re-release for injured wildlife. Two of the four sanctuaries that we visited were top notch, one was pretty nice, and one was like a hick-park as far as we were concerned. The two excellent ones were The Tasmanian Devil Conservation Park and The Trowunna Wildlife Park. I would especially not miss the latter of the two if I were to go again, since it's where you get an excellent and informative 75 minute tour around their park and where you get to pat a koala, hold a wombat, and pet a devil while learning all about them and why these particular ones are ok to hold/touch (you can't do this with just any animals). It was really excellent. Go sanctuaries!

3. National Parks. While we didn't do quite as much outdoors activities as we would have liked due to the unpredictable inclement weather, the National Parks on offer to visitors are plentiful. They have a whole system set up whereby you can buy a pass to all the parks in the state for 24 hours, 48 hours or 2 months (yeah, nothing in between, not sure why). It's not cheap, but that's because the money goes toward the pristine upkeep of the parks. They have nice car parks, well marked and signed trails, and the trails themselves are very well kept and debris-free. There are hand rails, photo points, and even raised platforms if the terrain is too rough or sensitive. Most parks have staffed visitors centers with informational displays of wildlife, facts about the parks and all the walks/hikes, and post cards and other goodies for sale. It's quite a nice system and much of the state is natural reserve, so there's a lot to enjoy.

4. History in Abundance. Tasmania was one of the first places that the British settled and yes, it was mostly used for penal colonies. Like all around Australia, bits and pieces of the old settlements remain in scattered parts of the state. Perhaps because it has not been developed nearly to the extent of the other original cities (Perth, Sydney, Melbourne), a good amount of the original buildings remain in Tassie and are now preserved as historical marks and tourist attractions. Since Tasmania was used almost exclusively to house convicts in its early years, there are a large number of prisons and related structures still standing. The most notable historical stronghold is Port Arthur, which was a secondary prison situated on a large outcropping of land on the south-east coast of the island. The only way into this part of the island was (and is) by sea or by a tiny 300-foot wide strip of land that connects it to the main part of the island, which assured a more effective Alcatraz-esque isolation area. Certainly a highlight of the trip.

Ok, and to be honest, I originally had this as a top five list but I made my top four so damn broad, I couldn't think of a fifth. So there you go. During our trip, Tassie threw a few curve balls at us (rain/snow, extremely difficult to find accommodation, overpriced everything, etc), but we bobbed and weaved as best we could and made it through unscathed. And now I have pictures to fuss with, a new website to make, and journals to finalize (yes I actually still keep a journal in addition to all this business) which should keep me busy for another few weeks! Yeay, it's like I'm still on vacation!...except the returning to work part...

Summertime In Tasmania

There is definitely something wrong here. Yes, that is a snowman, albeit a small one. And no, I'm not quite as happy as I look about it. It is the dead of summer and there is snow on the mountain tops. Down below the mountains, it's been raining off and on with highs of around 55 and lows near freezing. A flimsy fleece is the warmest clothing I brought, a "light jacket" in case of "cool summer nights". You will find Kane roaming the nearly frozen lands in shorts. At least he's upgraded the flip flops to athletic shoes and ankle socks.

The first half of this trip looked promising (weather-wise), but the latter half has turned on us, betraying us with our short sleeved shirts and swimsuits in hand. Rain and cold forced (ok, maybe coerced) us away from our intended hike around Dove Lake yesterday, and last night was completely sleepless for me since we're in a tiny, non-heated room with bunk beds (hence I don't even get Kane to keep me warm). But alas, we continue on.

I am complaining now because I am currently experiencing this blight of cold, but I'm sure it will not define our trip. We've seen some really cool stuff and have a lot to report about Ol' Tassie, which, as mentioned before, will be more thoroughly blogged upon our return. For now, I thought I'd send a Tas update and complain to the internet a bit about how freaking cold I am. It makes me feel better, ok? ;-)

Welcome to Tasmania

Hello from Tasmania! We arrived on Christmas and have been blazing a trail around the state ever since. The weather has been pretty good (I was hoping for a bit warmer with a bit less chances of rain, but oh well) and we've seen some neat stuff. And, of course, been attempting to meet the photo quota of a minimum of 200 pics/day! I love filling up hard drives.

We've been having a hard time finding internet since most of the towns here are really small (especially the ones we have been to so far), but finally found some today (thank goodness)! I have a zillion pictures to post, but that will have to wait until we return on Sunday.

Until then, just know that we've finally seen a Tasmanian Devil and that they are adorable. Also, we were able to feed and pet kangaroos and wallabies at a sanctuary (the same place with the Devils) and that we spent a good amount of time exploring the ruins of Port Arthur, one of the first prison settlements in Australia in use from 1830-1877. Other than that, we've gone on some hikes and some walks, and we have plenty more in the week ahead!

Please stay tuned next week when I am actually able to post some of the awesome pictures we have gotten so far, not to mention the ones that we haven't taken yet! Hope all is well for your holidays, wherever you are.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone! I know we're a day ahead here in Aus, but the greeting remains. Kane and I are off to Tassie in about 10 mins (via our sweet ride to the airport - Marc and Alana's Ford Laser that just got broken into and now is only unlockable from the trunk). So, we're off! We wish everyone a happy and relaxing holiday season! See you next year!

Fireworks!

Today was the grand opening (finally - it's been delayed for over a month now) of the big ferris wheel thingie they've been building outside our apartment since we arrived here in January. It is the single most interesting thing, by a long shot, that our 15th floor flat overlooks. We face the opposite direction of the city; this new attraction is the only saving grace in a sprawl of industrial wasteland to the north of our building. But, tonight was a special night. For opening night, they put on a fireworks show for which we unknowingly had the best seats in the house. We looked directly down onto the fireworks area - perhaps the first time that I have witness an unobstructed fireworks display. Pretty sweet.

We immediately whipped out the camera and frantically assembled the tripod on our balcony, foregoing the actual enjoyment of the show so that we could document it for ourselves to not-enjoy-quite-as-much later. We have a picture problem, we know. Some of the shots turned out quite good I thought, though it was completely random deciding which exposure length to use since you don't know what fireworks are coming.

In other news we found an excellent Indian restaurant that is almost exactly a one mile walk from our house - which was a distance well worth traversing for the fine cuisine. It has inspired us to look into traveling to India again - yeay! As for actual and realistic upcoming travels, we leave for Tasmania on Thursday (Christmas Day) and spend 10 days scrambling around the entire island in a rental car. Even though planning for this trip was a huge pain - everyone apparently goes to Tasmania for Christmas and they take all the rental cars and hotels before I think to book them - it should be a really fun trip.

The Phantom of the Opera: An Excercise in Patience

All is back to normal in Aus life, though I did forget that leaving for a vacation makes the few weeks following your return the sloowest weeeks everrrr. This last week was no exception and I can't believe we made it to the weekend. No doubt: vacation > working.

But, since that's nothing to blog about - and neither are the 2 light bulbs that we finally just changed, which is very exciting in our tiny lives - I will finish a rant that I began in San Francisco, California on the night of Friday, November the 28th. It was a rant that can be revived just about any time with equal fervor and focus to the original rambling, complaining testimonial. It is about one Phantom of the Opera play, as seen at the Orpheum Theater along with Kane, Mom, and David as valid, competent, and open-minded witnesses.

First let's begin with expectations. Phantom is a musical. I didn't know much else about it as I flippantly bought the tickets. I thought, "I like musicals: Annie, Oliver and even more recently Lion King, and Mamma Mia". I realize that it's called Phantom of the Opera, but I had envisioned a musical about an opera. Not an opera about an opera, though I can hardly fault them for misleading me on that point. I was hoping for what I wanted instead of realizing what was obvious. Fine, it's an opera, what's so bad about that? I have only been to one proper "opera" performance and it was in college; Kane and I went so that he could get some extra credit in a class. It was entirely in a foreign language with no acting out the story, and was hence extremely boring. Encouraged by the sleeping gentleman next to me, we proceeded to leave at intermission.

But surely the famed Phantom wouldn't be like this? Phantom is famous, renowned, revered. It is the longest running Broadway show in history and the most lucrative entertainment enterprise of all time. For over twenty years people have been flocking from all over to see the show as it tours and re-tours the country. The only thing I can figure is that: a) this is the biggest sham of all time; b) my understanding of the general public is so skewed that I overlooked the possibility of something so famous not being to my liking, or, of course; c) people who are not me are idiots. Of course the third is self-righteous and a ridiculous conclusion, but this play has just taught me not to rule anything out anymore, so I'm not. You know how with some carefully chosen things you sometimes just trust the masses and think, "well, if everybody likes it..."? I am unhappy to see that this fleeting logic does not seem to necessarily apply to all items I might want it to. And hence, I was sucked into the phenomenon that is Phantom of the Opera.

I went in open-minded. I like theater. I like leaving the house for a reason. I was excited. The theater itself was very nice, opulent even. Our seats weren't excellent, but no big deal; we could see the stage, couldn't we? The play started out and I just assumed that I liked it. I watched with a smile on my face, integrating myself into the storyline, trying to get a feel for the characters and what was going on. And though through simple gesturing, costumes, and set changes I was able to understand the basic plot of the first half of the play, much of it may as well have been on mute because that's how much of the dialogue I was able to decipher from the onslaught of high-pitched, simultaneous wailing that was occurring in the more eventful scenes.

Opera apparently means that no one talks, they only sing. And it's not like they're singing a song that rhymes and is catchy at tasteful intervals of the play (ah - a musical), it's just like they're singing what they're saying - like a child would do as they roam the playground wrapped up in their own world, immediately before being pummeled by the cooler kids. They sing and sing and sing. The notes go up and down, their voices are loud or quiet. Maybe that's the appeal that I don't understand - the art of the actual singing. Maybe I'm too bombarded by main stream, Britney Spears/Pearl Jam music to appreciate true talent of the voice. Whatever it is, this crap sucked. I could typically understand what they were saying when only one person was singing. But then many people would come on stage and in a flurry of activity and song, they would all blurt out their story or feelings or problems or whatever, and I couldn't tell what the heck was going on. I was accosted by song, unable to decipher what any one person was screeching about, and was ultimately left having to figure out what was going on with other cues, as mentioned before.

Then halftime came. Glorious intermission. My smile had turned to a confused frown. Apparently I wasn't liking the play. Aside from the basic storyline which I could have (and should have) read a synopsis of on the internet, I couldn't follow who was who or what was going on very well. The format, as mentioned, was obnoxious. And though the singing was very good (for that kind of singing) and the actors were well-acted, my overall rating had plummeted excessively since the curtains opened. Did my cohorts feel the same way? Or was mom loving the play and Kane waiting anxiously for the last half? Thank goodness the answer was no. They were as confused and disappointed as I was so far, and we spent intermission making fun of the characters and their stupid songs. Ahhh, these are my people.

The second half resumed and I think it was actually better than the first. Maybe because it was more eventful, maybe because it was not as long, or maybe because my expectations had been brought to a new level; maybe all of the above. The play concluded (I thought it was fairly predictable) and we were released from the Phantom's clutches. David pointed out that if Mr. Phantom had sung "Christine" in his melodic, pathetic way one more time, he (David) may have screamed. In fact, there may have been a half of a row of screamers had that been the case. It was quite exhausting to have all the words of a play sung instead of spoken. And we were all four heartily sick of it by the end. Fortunately, we could retreat into our little home across the bay and complain about the whole endeavor together to ease our pain.

After leaving the play and discussing it with some other people, I found that not everyone likes it. Some people were as bewildered as I was, which makes me wonder how many people actually saw it because they like it or someone they know recommended it and how many people, no doubt like me and my like-minded friends, were duped into seeing it. What percentage of people in 2008 who saw Phantom of the Opera did so simply because it's popular and gets good reviews? How many of those people didn't even like it but instead accidentally contributed to the massive box office numbers that Phantom continues to receive? I am beginning to think that this has morphed into a social phenomenon - if not experiment - that clearly deserves further psychological study.

So that was our Phantom of the Opera experience. If anything, an opportunity to learn and burst my bubble of liking any theater available. Which is fine. Even bad experiences are sometimes nice to look back on, and of course, blog about.

Back to Oz

Well, that was a whirlwind, as expected. To finish up my trip summary started in the entry below, here is a list of the activities of the 2nd half of our trip:

1. Lunch with Alicia - good times reminiscing about Highland Elementary, etc.
2. Day with mom - we didn't do much, but it was fun anyway.
3. Breakfast with Carissa, Nick and EJ on their way up to Redding.
4. Gym with Dad followed by wild rental car return adventure on the way to dinner with Tiffany & Adam (and getting to see their plush new house).
5. Thanksgiving day: Indian food for lunch and traditional dinner at Aunt Jane's with the fam.
6. New shoes as big Black Friday purchases.
7. Ethiopian dinner and Phantom of the Opera in SF with Mom and David. (note: separate blog entry required for comments on Phantom).
8. One last Mexican food meal for lunch on final day with Mom and Dad. Then packing and cleaning up and making our way back to SFO for the trip back.

The flights back weren't bad, but the movies we watched were. It was our own fault, we chose to watch crappy movies and chose to keep watching even after realizing they were bad. Five movies in a row: Wanted (Angela Jolie, terrible, don't see it), In Bruges (not bad but I hate when the main characters die, sorry for the spoiler), The House Bunny (no idea why we watched this, just as bad as you would expect, maybe worse), Wall-E (good, finally), Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium (not so good but not painful, it's a kids movie). It was quite a trip. I slept some on the 12 hour flight to New Zealand, so that was nice. No jetlag upon return and we're completely back on track after an excellent night of sleep last night.

So that's it. Back to normal, boring, Australia life. We've decided that we need to do more here since we tend to stagnate in the name of laziness, avoiding the weather, and frugality. We'll work on that. In the meantime, we're back to finalizing plans for our trip to Tasmania over Christmas and starting to plan The Big Trip for next June-ish.

It was so great to see everyone that we could during our visit, and apologies for those who we weren't able to fit in. Next year, for our Epic Return, we will make sure to spend some time with everyone who wants to! Until then, stay safe and happy and send me a dang email once in a while.

Trip to the USA

So, I've been happily neglecting the blog for the past week since we've been visiting the States. But, I have a free moment, so I can write a quick summary of the trip so far:

1. Left Melbourne at 11:30am Friday, arrive SFO 10:30am Friday. Time zones make life interesting.
2. Laser tag with family = me pwning them and many children. Excellent.
3. Family party to see the relations. See pictures here.
   
4. Trip to SLO: see Eric and Kitty, hang with Thom, Don, Toni, reunite with the Woods crew and pet the new stock of kitties, watch Tropic Thunder again with Eric and friends.
5. Swing by Turlock to see Kane's dad and dad's family.
6. Kane flies up to Oregon to see mom; I hang back in the Bay.
7. Comedy show to see Bill Bellamy with Dad.
8. Cal vs. Stanford game with Mom and David followed by awesome vegetarian Chinese food dinner and Twilight the movie.
9. Breakfast with Grandpa.
10. 10 year Planet Lazer reunion at Laser Quest (yes, I still got first place, booya).

And that's the story up to this point. We leave this coming Saturday and are pretty busy until then. Two weeks seems like a lot, but turns out to be a pretty cramped schedule when your family and friends are all centrally located. It's been good to see everyone who we could see; everyone else will have to wait until next year =(.

Toby the Dog

Last week, mom finally decided it was Toby's time, and put her to sleep. Toby was our cute little lab mix, a pound puppy that we adopted in 1996. She was approximately 14 years old and had been blind and almost completely deaf for a few years. You may remember her bonking into the stair railing or knocking into random fixtures as she would awkwardly make her way around the house, her glossy eyes shining in the lamplight. It was sad to watch, but my mom did her best to "escort" Toby around using a secret language comprised mostly of embarrasingly loud verbal commands and a large amount of stomping (figuring she could feel the vibration of the floor better than she could hear). Her final ailment was a series of lumps on her underside that had started oozing and were clearly painful. And while a life cut off to the outside world by her senses was difficult, a life of pain was unkind and unnecessary. She was old, and she lived a happy life; it was time. But, as any person would want, let's not remember Toby in her fragile final days, but rather reminisce on the dog we all loved while she was in her prime.

Toby was a cute dog, even up until the end. She had all the physical features of a black lab but was smaller than an average labrador retriever, only reaching a "healthy" weight of about 40 pounds as an adult. I say healthy because I know we fattened her up past that. She was easy going, eager to please, and a generally happy little dog. Often overshadowed by her much fussier, much larger older sister, Coco, Toby was not always the center of attention. But the nice thing about Toby was that she didn't mind. All she really ever wanted was to sit near someone with their hand resting on her back, knowing she was loved. And loved she was. Little Toby, we were happy to have shared your life with you, and we will always remember your cute little face and happy waggy tail.

On a related topic, I recently read a book by John Grogan called Marley and Me. It's a story of a man and his girlfriend-turned-wife who fall in love with a cute, frisky, yellow lab pup. Reminiscent of their saintly childhood dogs, they raise Marley to find that he's quite different from the dogs they knew as children. It is a great story about their family and the endless antics of ever-present Marley. The book documents the major events in the Grogan family that ensue throughout Marley's slobbery life and is a great story to read. Marley's end comes at the end of the book and is so intimately described that I was sobbing all over my couch. I think it's the only book I've ever read where I actually missed the character after I finished reading the book. The following week I would often say to Kane, "I miss Marley". Anyway, the point is, I recommend it to anyone who likes a good lighthearded animal-centric story and that little Toby reminded me, if not of Marley himself, but of his tale and the love his family had for him. We love you Toby-Tob!

Halloween!

Happy belated Halloween, everyone. This year Kane and I dressed up with a Shaun of the Dead theme - perhaps our collective favorite movie ever - whereby Kane wielded a blood caked cricket bat (wickets included for only $15 - thank you Big W!) and I was a zombie. I was going to be Liz, but I don't have the hair, and I would have just looked like a normal person. So, zombie it was.

I turned out to be a good zombie; my pale skin, unruly hair, and vacant looks (unrelated to the hair) turned out to be good for something. I spent a while getting the makeup just right, I think it turned out rather nicely. That is to say, a drunk girl came up to me at the party we attended and said, "you look really...bad...like, dead!", which I took as a compliment. Though it's hard to respond to that, "yeah, you look...bad...too, but bad like good, uh, like bad-ass...or something". Cue awkward sips of our respective drinks and then feigning interest in adjacent conversations. See? Social excellence even as a zombie.

Just to be clear, they do not have Halloween, per se, in this country. That is to say that everyone is completely aware of just about everything about it, like they are about most American traditions, but no one dresses up, has parties, or trick or treats. And they're lucky that the kids don't know what they're missing, or they'd have quite a situation on their hands. Life without Halloween, what a sad fate. However, we American Expats refuse to be silenced and are compelled by a patriotic duty to express the traditions of our homeland while abroad. Hence the Halloween party for American rejects.

It was a good party: well decorated - if not quite as well attended - with appropriate Halloween party food featuring chips, cookies, candy, pumpkin-pie flavored jello shots (no idea how she did that), well-spiked punch, and a variety of BYO beverages. The company was good and it adequately fulfilled our Halloween hankerings. And the hosts had three dogs and four cats for me to ogle over, what more could I ask?

One of the funnier things about Halloween in Melbourne is that it falls on the weekend before the Melbourne Cup: a huge horse race that has somehow managed to achieve a paid holiday for every working class person in this entire city. And pretty much only this city - it's not a holiday anywhere else in the country. So, while there are a small amount of vampires, flappers, and hill-billies roaming the streets on Halloween, they are oddly juxtaposed with groups of folks dressed in their finest attire. It's hard to tell who's in a costume and who's not sometimes. Except the zombies, they're pretty obvious. My boss actually said that traffic was stopped on the bridge on his way to work on Friday due to an unruly vampire that decided to walk down the middle of the road. I thought that was especially funny since they don't celebrate Halloween; apparently one ballsy guy was doing the celebrating for all of them.

So that's Halloween in Melbourne. See more of our pictures on my Picasa site: Alana was Punky Brewster and Marc was (pretty obviously) someone from Alien. Enjoy.

Trivia, Zoo, Indian Food

Ok, last week/weekend were eventful in KAngie terms. This means we did things outside the house, often with other people. Last Wednesday we went to a trivia night hosted by Democrats Abroad with a few friends. It was just a trivia night so anyone was welcome (even Republicans and Aussies/Kiwis). We went to an excellent Indian restaurant before the trivia gathering which was reminiscent of the Ethiopian place but a bit more tasteful and extremely tasty! We got a vegetarian combo where they pick the three dishes (always risky) and it was freaking great. And how do they cook the rice like that? It's just plain rice but it's so much better after it came from an Indian person's kitchen. And don't even get me started on naan...mmmmmm...

After delicious and inexpensive (ah, no wonder I liked it so much) dinner, we proceeded to trivia night. Trivia, like basketball and fashion, is something I like but am horrible at. I don't have a memory, so how can I answer random questions about inane crap? Plus, to make an argument that doesn't make me sound like such a doofus, I'm an engineer: trained to know how to find information, not just to know it. In fact, I think my entire generation has learned that you don't need to know things, you just need to sit near a google prompt. There is no need for me to remember random things, which is good because I apparently can't.

With this in mind, I'm always amazed at how much crap other people know that I don't. I generally walk around feeling that I am of at least mildly superior intelligence to most folks (but maybe that's just a complex) and yet, it seems like every idiot knows more trivia than I do. I try to make excuses, but, in the trivia contest, I still look like an oaf. I should take up drinking because then I'd at least have an excuse. "Angie was so useless at trivia, she was totally trashed". But no, I just get to be useless and extremely aware of it.

It didn't help that this was political trivia. Granted, I can't think of a trivia subject that I could confidently answer questions about (except "math", but that's not trivia, it's just knowledge; and I probably wouldn't even be all that good at that, sadly), but politics is surely one of the worst. You may as well quiz me on 19th century ship making or something. It's really pathetic. I don't know names. I can't remember dates. And for god's sake, I don't know historic court cases. These were just a few of the categories at this trivia night where I failed miserably, unable to help my team at all. And no, I don't actually know the names of past and present Supreme Court Justices. Not even if it's in the form of true or false questions. My team wouldn't even let me be the person who writes the answers down because I kept spelling everything wrong. "You said Nancy Ferguson?" "No, Betty Anderson - give me the paper". Damn.

Needless to say, we won last place. But, due to a random joke telling contest in the middle of the trivia marathon, Kane managed to win a free pitcher of beer for our table. And you thought racially insensitive jokes couldn't get you anywhere...

So that was trivia night. We followed that up this weekend by renting a car and hitting up the Werribee Open Range Zoo. Since they are partnered with the Healsville Sanctuary, I thought we could give it a try. It was a nice place; I did not feel like the animals were oppressed in any way. It was a nice day and the animals were neat - though I did like the Healsville place more because there were mostly Australian-oriented residents, rather than hippos and rhinos shipped from lord knows where. Still good though. Picture collage to come, don't have time at the moment.

After the zoo I actually had a night of patented Angie sickness - where my insides suddenly decide they need to be on my outside. And with that, we missed a bbq at our friends' house and instead got to relax in the living room/bathroom Saturday night. Oh well. Even though I didn't feel great on Sunday, I refused to waste a $77 car rental so we drove down to Geelong to see what that place was about. It's about an hour away and is one of the larger towns surrounding Melbourne; many people commute from there. And just fyi; it's kind of a hole - I see no reason to return. But it was a nice day anyway. At least until I had to be escorted quickly back home to reacquaint myself with the toilet. Go me.

Still a good week and weekend. And I've fully recovered from strange stomach ailment, for which I still have no viable origin to suspect. Now it's halfway through the week and is only just over a two week countdown until our triumphant return to the States.

Secret Handshake

A lot of little things happened last week, none of which were worth their own post. The event that made me the happiest, while not the most exciting, was learning the secret handshake at the gym. While not an actually physical manifestation of camaraderie, we still feel privileged to know this new information, which is this: you don't have to pay $108 a month to belong to the gym. They make you think you do because that's what they tell you when you sign up. But, after an undisclosed amount of time being a member and paying a billion dollars a month, you can downgrade your membership to any number of veiled secretive options.

We were prompted to ask because our boss said he only pays $70 a month on the condition that he can only go to the one gym rather than all the gyms in the chain. So we thought we'd ask for that. When we did, Mr. Gym Membership man said we could do an even cheaper "off peak" option, allowing us only to go to the gym between 10-4pm on weekdays. We go every day at lunch, so that was perfect. And it only costs $52 a month - 50% savings, booya! So, sadly, that was the highlight of my week. I love saving money too much.

Other than that, we got to help Marc and Alana move (yes, I wrote "got to" because they read this blog sometimes). Just kidding, it was easy since they only moved down the street. And Kane and Marc did all the heavy lifting, so it was especially easy for me. Yeay. Pictured are the three of us in the front of the moving van, Kane is behind the metal grate in the back (sorry that you're blurry Marc). We also got most of Kane's Halloween costume; he is going to be Shaun of the Dead. I will be a zombie and intend to acquire the necessary makeup this weekend. And, while acquiring this costume, we encountered Mr. White Trash Australian, which was new and exciting to me. I've only ever experienced Mr./Mrs. White Trash America before, so it was nice to see an exact parallel between these two countries.

Mr. White Trash Australian, let's call him Steve, had an Australian flag hat on, sleeveless shirt, and tattoed arms. He was also hopelessly (and appeared happily) overweight and eager to discuss menial topics with us, such as the merits of the clip-on tie that Kane was trying on for his costume. Steve was very excited to see another fellow human wearing this tie, since he himself had purchased this same tie but a week ago. Apparently, "you can't go wrong with a tie like that, mate", which is good because Kane certainly wants his costume to be excellent. And by excellent, I mean as cheap as possible. We salute you, Steve, wherever you may be, no doubt with beer in hand.

Also, the weather, while still hit or miss, is getting nicer. On Saturday it was hot in the day and warm all night - my favorite. I hear it's going to be a hot summer here, so we are relatively prepared to go from way too cold to way too hot weather. Figures.

Big accomplishments occured this weekend when we finally sent in our absentees and did our taxes. Those two have been weighing my to do list down quite a bit; now we are free!! They were both very trying activities and pretty much took all my energy for Sunday. Which works out since we don't usually do anything anyway. Next weekend I hope we can rent a car and go drive around somewhere. The weather better stay good!

Ethiopian Adventure

There's an excellent Ethiopian restaurant nearby that we frequent with Marc and Alana and it has so much character I thought I'd write about it this week. To start, the decor in general is something like what a blind autistic kid might orchestrate. The walls have been recently painted to mostly light blue (an improvement from finger-print-and-other-miscellaneous-dirt-stained off-white), with strips of white at the top and bottom where they didn't want to get too close to the ceiling/floor. Throw some accidental paint streaks on all window and lighting fixtures and *voila*, new paint job. The tables and chairs are of a nameless, rickety, sub-Ikea brand that might adorn an underprivileged elementary school's cafeteria or your backyard left over from the 1980's.

But, upon arrival, you are blinded to all this by the tablecloths. These monstrosities are solid plastic - to the point where I'm surprised that they bend over the edge of the table. But it's the pattern that is so distracting and, really, unnecessary: bright green, yellow and orange flowered print on a white background. It's a bit like the 1960's threw up all over these tablecloths. They are hideous and completely out of place and I have no idea where you could even purchase such an item. They give the place a cheap, awkward feel that lets you know that either the food is really good or really, really bad. Token plastic flowers in a tiny, sad vase adorn each table. And the funny thing is, there isn't a table for four people. There are six tables for three, all pushed up against the side walls and one big table for eight in the center and that's it. Fortunately, we've never come in when anyone else has actually been there (I'm starting to suspect that we're their only customers), so we just take the giant table.

Then they hand you the menus. The menus are a game of luck and chance. I believe they have about a half dozen menus in stock and possibly one of them has all the pages in it. The rest have only selected pages and I believe I've gotten one before that only had the drinks page. Fortunately we've been there enough to know when we are missing pages. It is rather ridiculous but fairly entertaining. We generally use the four menus that we are handed to mentally take stock of all the items on offer to make our decisions.

Up until this last time we went, it was always the same woman working there; I think she was the hostess, waitress, cook, and cashier. She did not speak English. We ordered by pointing. She would waive her hand and say "finish" when they were out of the item we wanted, which was just about every time. She seems like a kind soul, though the masses of scars and tattoos that adorn her arms and face make her mysterious. Her rear end may, in fact, be the size of Ethiopia, which makes her all the more endearing to us.

We order almost the same thing every time and get something completely different. It's like an Ethiopian grab bag. I point, she nods, something different comes out on the plate. But the thing is, it's always good. And I didn't know what I was ordering in the first place, so it doesn't really matter. I point to vegetarian yellow-ish and brown lintel paste with a side of mushy delicious-ness on the menu and get a different vegetarian bean-y paste with a side of lumpy mush. It doesn't really matter. It's all excellent. And the price is right; it's all sooo cheap.

So we go back again and again to the Ethiopian place, to watch Dancing with the Stars muted on the TV and listen to crazy tribal Ethiopian music on the three foot tall, completely disproportionately large speaker in the corner. We laugh, we consume our plate of mush, we try to avoid the sticky spots on the tablecloth. Ahh...I wish I were there now.

Hitlerhoff

This weekend we attended another Melbourne Fringe Festival event (see last week's entry). This time we went to a show called Hitlerhoff, which, just based on the name alone (and the picture), we figured must be entertaining. Hitler and David Hasslehoff both have checkered pasts and were both at one point beloved to the German people. I thought that a play that somehow combined the strengths and humor (I guess Hitler can be funny now, it's been long enough) of the two of them would be necessarily funny. On that note, I was wrong.

Hitlerhoff was stupid. Not only did it not clearly define who the character "Hitlerhoff" was supposed to be (Hitler with a bit of Hoff?, a Nazi-inclined Hasslehoff?, their love child?, someone else completely who had an equal affinity for fascism and lifeguarding?), but it took place in an undefined time in this century (ex: he fought in The Great War while a picture of a gun-toting Sarah Palin appeared in a photo montage) and it had a propensity toward being completely unintelligible. I figure at some point, though I consider myself a generally intelligent and open minded person, willing to accept someone's strange idea for a play, there are plays that are "works of art" that are understood and appreciated mostly by the community of artists that are prone to that sort of expression. Fine, I don't have to get everything. But I'm not actually sure there was anything to get with this play.

There was really no storyline to follow, no laughable jokes (though I could feel the breeze as a few of them undoubtedly flew over the audience's heads), and no climax or real ending to the story. I can say two good things about it: the actors weren't bad and it wasn't so terrible that I wanted to cut myself or anything. I just kind of wanted to take a nap. Actually, what I really wanted was to get what was going on, a desire that fueled my undivided attention to these ranting strangers for an hour on a Saturday night. But alas, I found nothing to get and we left empty handed with only our incessant complaining to comfort us. Which it did. Thank goodness we saw this with two other couples so that we could bitch about it for an hour afterward to help cancel out the time wasted.

The funniest part of the play was actually when some poor fool in the audience decided that he had to go to the bathroom or have a smoke or answer his phone or do something that required leaving the room. This play was in a relatively small room that seated about 50 people and the entrance/exit doors were toward the front of the room between the stage and the first row. In the very first lines of the play, Hitlerhoff says something comically noting how the doors will be locked for the duration of the show, assumingly as a joke. When this guy went to leave in the middle of the show, however, he couldn't get the 1950s-style double doors to open. He wrestled with the door for about 45 seconds much to the amusement of the crowd and most certainly stealing the show from the Hitlerhoff-grovelling-on-the-floor-in-a-red-speedo scene. That got the most laughs out of the whole show, and I certainly thought it was the best part.

So, that was the highlight of our weekend, which actually was a highlight since it provided grounds to bond with our friends and something for me to blog about. So maybe it wasn't so bad after all. ...But don't go see it anyway.

The Fringe Festival

Melbourne is a city of festivals. There is seemingly always some festival occurring in this fine city, and I don't mean the kind with booths and barbecues and face painting (although I'm sure they have their fair share of those too), I mean the kind with events scattered over a few weeks at a smattering of local venues. We just finished the Writer's Fesitval, next is the Arts Festival, and we are currently engulfed in the Fringe Festival.

What is a Fringe Festival? I feel that in some ways the name itself deterred my interest initially just because the word "fringe" doesn't necessarily invoke me to think, "stuff I'm interested in". Alana, however, was fortunately feeling pro-active this weekend and chose a little show for us to go to, which ended up being very fun and cool. I guess the festival is just a bunch of shows playing all around town - comedy shows, little plays and stuff like that - that are short and are relatively cheap to attend. Pictured above are the three of us being not nearly "fringe" enough to attend the festival, but going anyway. Notice that Alana is the same height as Kane from the knee up...so cute.

We saw a little comedy play called "The Last Bucket of Water" which was about the end of the world and guarding the last existing bucket of water, which, as luck would have it, turned out to be possessed. It had only 3 people in it (the play, not the bucket), and the audience was about 25 people. I've seen Patrick in a play like that once, and found it weird that he could see me just as easily as I could see him. I could have high fived him if I had wanted to. I digress; this play was very good and funny (Patrick's was good too, just for the record).

So that was the weekend, aside from watching the debates (which we were fortunate not only to have shown here, but also that they were at a reasonable time - live at 11am Saturday) and avoiding the madness of the Footy Grand Final, which is equivalent to the Super Bowl. The Hawks won, just in case you were wondering. It was probably epic, but, like football, I don't know the rules, don't really care anyway, and only like teams based on their team colors. The Hawks are brown and yellow - totally gross, I would have never been rooting for them.

I worked today because our office is still swamped; we will now take our trip to the States sans vacation debt. We also downloaded an album by The Darkness, which appears to rock. Hope you have a good week! (yes, you!)

Excellent Weekend

It was just as excellent as it was long-awaited. Kane pointed out that I had worked 19 days in a row, which was not a fun thing to hear. Granted, seven year olds in China do that for years on end earning, like, a rice ball or something for it, but still. Not to mention that my bosses certainly don't sympathize; when I started working there in April, my boss David said that he'd taken eight days off this year already. I thought, wow, that's nice, he takes a couple days off a month to relax, hang with his family, etc. Then he mentioned that the number eight included Saturdays and Sundays...yikes. I should have been smart enough to get out then! Just kidding. It's been a busy year for my (our) company. BUT (and it's a big but, and please, no posterior puns from that one), each day of weekend I (we) work, we get an extra day of vacation to fuel our Vacation Machine, which I do believe needs capitalization.

This weekend we got to relax and it was epic. The weather was mediocre, but we mainly watched movies, cleaned the house and took care of computer stuff (me catching up on emails and spreadsheets, Kane playing video games). We got to sleep in, take naps, have dinner with Alana, go shopping for groceries and much needed socks and generally lounge around. Another plus to actually getting a weekend is that I can start to plan some of the vacations that we worked so hard for.

In a couple weeks, we plan to take a Monday off and drive down to The Twelve Apostles for a B&B style weekend exploring the Victorian coast. Then, as you probably know, in November we haul our butts back to CA for a "hang with the family" two and a half week vacation. Then for Christmas, we want to get down to Tasmania for a week, hopefully with Marc and Alana. Sometime in February or March we want to head out to Kangaroo Island, the third biggest island off Australia, and in April or May we want to take a 4 day weekend to Alice Springs and Uluru!

And that's all before leaving in (probably) June to do our Totally Excellent World Tour on our way back to the States. Whew. I swear sometimes I think I like planning it more than actually going. It's sad, I know. Anyhow, so, still really busy at work, but hopefully I can lay off the weekends for a while, though it is nice to have that extra vacation time under my belt!

Warmth

What is this? This yellow light on my face? This feeling of being happy, like I'm all tucked into bed at night? This sudden desire to take off 2 of my 3 jackets?

Spring has apparently, as they say, sprung. Thank the good lord. Yesterday and today it was warm. And not just central-coast-in-the-winter, decently-warm-in-the-middle-of-the-day-but-still-frosty-as-crap-at-night warm, but warm even at night. This is a coveted rarity in my life. We left work yesterday and it wasn't freezing. I was not unhappy waiting for the tram to come, at least not from the temperature. Today walking to the tram I actually took off my jacket and let the sun touch my arms. My arms! Out in the world! People could see them!

Same thing tonight - we went to dinner and I only wore one jacket. This is an obligatory jacket for me; normal people were in mini skirts and t-shirts. A one-jacket night is pretty much the best I ever get, and I was thankful. We even actually took a stroll down the dock at night, hand in hand. And I was not shivering. It was amazing, I wish it were always like this.

It was really probably only 70 or 75 degrees or so, but it felt heavenly. Liberating; a weight lifted. Release from months of oppression. Long awaited discharge from an undeserved prison sentence. The winter was colder than we had expected. I hope that it is over now.

And speaking of weather, shout out to my Texas family - stay safe over there, show old Ike that Texans won't take no guff...

The Dread: A Short Story

This is what happens. You get off work at 5:30 and need to be in the CBD by 6. You left slightly too late to be on time to your appointment and you know it. So, you walk at a pace that looks like, with each step, you are poised at an angle that will most certainly propel you swiftly and face first into the ground, managing each time to project your leg out in front of yourself to prevent falling at the last moment. Each step continues like this in a hurried, frantic manor. You are passing joggers and your calves are burning.

You know the train is faster to get into town, but the tram is usually more frequent. This is a typical debate in your mind: trying to decide which mode of transport Fate will assign you to. It's like picking which line to stand in in the grocery store; and you undoubtedly always pick the wrong one. But alas, as you approach the overpass, you see that the train you want is currently slowing to a stop at the station that is but 200 feet down the ramp across the street. If you run you can make it. You dodge traffic crossing the street and run full-bore down the ramp with your coat blowing in the wind and your gym bag bouncing on your back.

This is one of the smaller train stations that, rather than having a turnstile that only allows you through if you validate your ticket, has a stand whereby you "voluntarily" validate your ticket on an "on your honor" basis. Normally, you are always on your honor (not only because it's the right thing to do, but also because there are frequently city employees pacing the trains and trams issuing fines to those without validated tickets). As you are speeding down the ramp toward the open doors of the train, you know that validating your ticket will undoubtedly make you miss the train. You fumble through your handbag anyway as you bounce down the ramp, trying to find your wallet with the precious tram/train ticket inside that you last validated this morning. You can't find it and it doesn't matter anyway; the train doors are open and waiting...and about to close. So you bypass the ticket stand and jump through the open doors just in time.

Now comes The Dread. You're on the train without a stamped ticket. You're in way over your head here. It's ok, you think, the very worst that can happen is that a tram officer approaches me and gives me a citation. But no, that's not the worst part. The worst part is the humiliation of standing in front of perhaps two dozen fellow train patrons being flogged for not having a ticket. You know they're thinking, "why didn't she just validate her ticket?", or "that was a really stupid excuse, why didn't she just say that she tried but the machine was broken?". You know because you've been the eavesdropping onlooker many times. It's always so pathetic.

So you sit on the train. You glance nervously back and forth down the train car, scanning for possible city officers in disguise (because, yes, they actually do disguise themselves in "normal" clothing in order to catch people). You are practically sweating. And during the two-stop ride, perhaps seven minutes long, you spend the entire time not reading as you normally would, but rather coming up with an excuse that you will use when you get caught. Because obviously you're going to get caught. You may as well have a giant sign over your head flashing "CHEATER" or "CURRENTLY STEALING FROM THE CITY" or similar. Certainly someone will see it; it's impossible not to.

Unfortunately, you were not blessed with the ability to lie convincingly. This is worrying you now. Like a myriad of other sports and activities, you long ago realized that you are not naturally good at lying. It makes you uncomfortable to tell even the smallest lies. Just the other day you accidentally broke a binder at work and the kindly secretary advised you to simply tell the boss that she decided to replace the binder because the original one was getting old. When casually questioned by the boss, you immediately and involuntarily blurted out how you broke the binder. You even provided details about the actual way that you broke it. You could not manage even a simple mistruth to make yourself look slightly less stupid about something that no one even cared about.

Also, you have found, many people expect you to lie in some cases. When you are pulled over in your car, no officer expects or wants you to say "Oh, sorry sir, I just like travelling this fast", or "I didn't see you there or I would have slowed down", or "Yes, I did know I was travelling this fast...sorry". They think your a bit off. And they give you a ticket anyway. You know this because you have done it. Four times.

Somehow you make it to your train stop unscathed. In those long seven minutes all you've come up with as your excuse is maybe to say that you forgot, or that you thought you did validate but must have not done it. You could tell the truth and say that if you had validated that you would have missed the train and that you're in an awful rush. To get to your book club meeting. Not exactly life or death; you doubt they will have pity.

But you're not out yet. You are now at the main train station, the giant, inner-city hub of all the trains. This station most certainly has turnstiles and it also has a thousand people shoving their way through them continuously. You're not sure what happens if you try to pass through the turnstile to get out with a ticket that was never stamped to get in. It's like standing on the edge of a waterfall about to jump in. What will happen? Will you make it through? Or will you tumble onto the jagged rocks hidden by the current and die?

Getting to the turnstile is like playing double dutch. You have to time it right and jump in full force, with confidence. You are reluctant because of your guilty conscience. So you keep getting cut by other rushed commuters. Finally, you just grit your teeth walk up to the stainless steel box that will determine the fate of your evening and insert your unvalidated, lying, cheating, stealing train ticket from this morning. The machine ponders your card for a split second and instead of spitting out your liar ticket, repulsed, and setting off alarms while tethering you to the floor so that you may not escape your flogging, it pops out like normal and the yellow, plastic, triangular "doors" open briefly to let you through. The ticket machine said your ticket was good through 10pm! It was wrong! Blissfully wrong in your favor!

Now the nerves transform into a tiny prickly sensation of joy. You won. You beat the system. You tricked them out of $2.80. You stole from The Man and he didn't even know. You are clearly far more clever than you had previously thought. And as you hop the tram just outside the train station that will take you the additional 4 blocks to your specific destination, you waltz casually over to the ticket machine because even through your magnificent victory, you know that you cannot stand even one more ride with The Dread.