вЂњDo ya mind if I have one a them,вЂќ pointing at the floor beneath me, вЂњbeeaz.вЂќ Her goggles amplified a smile that stretched across her face and widened to razor teeth. As long as youвЂ™re not borin? You borin? I saw ya, you looked all right. вЂњWe got a fuckin long way ta go, I guess weвЂ™ll find out.вЂќ She howled. вЂњWell, IвЂ™m Freddi and,вЂќ stuttering, shaking hands, I glared down at the pack of beer between my feet. She wore big, round and white alien-eyed sunnies with a knee lengthed, scarlet dress scattered with little yellow flowers. Her right foot pressed against the gas pedal. вЂњArenвЂ™t you afreed a gettin peeked up by strangers, mate?вЂќ She glimpsed over briefly and stuck an arm out. She chose a sporadic lifestyle through passion and screaming pirate lyrics. You picked a good time.вЂќ The biggest street party of the year, I could not have chosen a better moment to arrive.

вЂњYou know itвЂ™s the Pride Parade this weekend, yeah. We go way back,вЂќ she spoke cheerfully, excited. вЂњAll the way,вЂќ I asked, closing the door quickly. вЂњHow ya goin, mate? IвЂ™m headed ta Sid-knee, if ya wan a leeft,вЂќ she called out. A mustard-colored beater pulled up with the passenger side window rolled down. I held the sign close to the sidewalk for drivers. At a red light, hoping to be far enough out of town, I opened a chunk of cardboard with large, black letters. Sweating cheap wine at noon, an awfully painful day awaited. The plan was to hitchhike in the morning to Sydney, 600 kilometers away. Everyone crawled into miscellaneous beds before sunrise. We trash-talked with communal drinks at a picnic table. I finished eating at the hostel, then stormed out with a box of wine to join. Backpackers from The Coffs Hostel gathered in an adjacent park like so many other nights.

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