I can sit here in the late afternoon of peak hour in an upper class suburb and quite publicly people watch.
I sit on a bench seat which is so uniform around a young tree with such engineering it feels like I almost have lumbar support. What a time to be alive. The irony that the bench seat which protects the tree had the same origin.
People watching has got to be one of my favorite pastimes. Eating while people watching probably takes the cream. It’s a shame today is sponsored by 2 slightly overcooked eggs. Gotta get the protein-and-good-fats-without-too-many-carbs-in-before-gym y’all! No. I’m not willing to enter a debate. Tomorrow I’ll probably prep with cake. I’m a lady of balance. Or a pleb with fierce autonomy. I’ll let you choose.
Where even was I? I’m so distracted by the music in my ears providing an almost soundtrack to the visual in front of me: it’s so wonderful. It’s like an anthem, a march. There’s trumpets and other brass instruments I can’t be bothered identifying*. People are walking past me from every direction, but because we’re in the outer suburbs, it’s like a slower, filtered pace of city central. Instead of every nationality and socioeconomic status, its pretty much 80% Asian with a 50% high heel wearing who are too busy updating their iPhone calendars to even notice me staring them down. Excellent. 99% of humans here have a ‘healthy’ BMI, and no one talks. The sounds of the odd passing bus, the mostly electric cars**. But I think I it’s the high heels which got me- I hardly wear them on a night out, why would anyone choose to wear them on the daily? Kudos to you mid-30s-pencil-skirt-lady. Your ankles need a medal. I rolled my ankle in my most supportive runners last weekend, I have more admiration than is warranted***. Then there’s the fold up bikes that the cool kids ride these days, the minimalists. Do the city boys pack them in their purses when they get to work? Probably. I’d assume just as much.
Wheelie bags. I have a real biff with these brightly colored Nanna bags. And that is exactly what they are – Nanna bags. No, you are under 30 you should not be carting one! What’s in it? Paperwork? Food? A dead body? My lunch for tomorrow? Do you adjust the handle dependent on the height of your stilettos? I need to know.
And then suddenly I realized my gym class was about to start and I was still sitting cross legged in my scrubs, perched on the bench in front of his cousin.
*When you purchase concert tickets because ‘yay I live in Sydney mosell make use of big bands even though I don’t listen to their music!’ And so therefore every waking moment is learning their music.
**Don’t get me started. The amount of times I’ve relied on my ears to cross the road and nearly been taken out by a Smart car is shameful.
**But give me a few heavy alcohol laden beverages and I’ll run in stilettos like a pro. Something sober me can’t even do in her sober head. What even magic is that.
Addit: reading t shirt slogans. “Riots not diets.” I’ll riot against your sneakers and jeans lady.
Addit2.0: awkwardly balancing not only my backpack (snacks for work take up bulk space y’all) and my gym bag from the bench seat to the gym wasn’t supposed to be eventful. Maybe it’s the bulk snacks which have broken my zipper over time, but my drink bottle was half hanging out (which I was aware of, I was listening out for the clunk when it hit the pavement) but at a crossing a jolly man informed me I was about to lose it. I smiled and thanked him. He replied “that awkward moment when a stranger talks to you”. I giggled and said “it was only about time.” EXCEPT I MEANT ABOUT THE DRINK BOTTLE! It wasn’t until he gave me an unsatisfied look and walked off it DAWNED on me. Damnit.