vulcan high five

Sorry not to have posted in a while. Connie and I have been busy being idiots in Australia. In lieu of a blogpost, you get my diary.

Thursday, September 17, 2009, 10:48am
Waiting at Tullamarine Airport for our flight to Cairns

This is what we have done in the last few days. We got in on Monday at 10:45am after a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles followed by a two hour flight from Sydney. On the fourteen hour flight, Connie and I watched Star Trek, the best movie on the planet, and devised a special Vulcan high five to celebrate Starfleet victories. We learned that the in-flight entertainment system permitted IMming between seats, and Connie wrote me immediately to say, “God these kids are so annoying.” There were six kids sitting next to us. We slept, and also played cards. I had told Sonia about my plan to surprise Connie with the $4.99 pack of cards that I had refused to buy from the newsstand. Sonia had said, “What is the point of your performance?” Art, Cup!!! The point was to entertain Connie, and it worked.

Waiting for our flight at Sydney, I found a discarded Daily Telegraph and we read it and learned about Australian culture, which is exactly the same as American culture except in their version of football the ball has rounded ends, and about Serena Williams’ outburst against the line judge in the semifinals of the U.S. Open. We have so far repeated the phrase “If I could, I would shove this fucking tennis ball down your fucking throat and kill you” thousands of times, and taken pictures of ourselves posing with tennis ball packages at W Mart saying the same.

We took the shuttle in from Tullamarine to the city, saying that we had spent a thousand dollars and taken a fourteen hour plane ride to land in Missouri. I am convinced that the fourteen hours in flight we just circled over the Midwest before touching down in St. Louis. We ate soft serves at Hungry Jack’s, which is Burger King. I just looked over at Connie just now and told her that my bowel movements were “All or nothing,” meaning I have been drinking lots of milk trying to induce diarrhea since apparently I can purge no other way. Connie method of dealing with me has been to ignore me, which I just think is funny. She has pointed out that I say “Stupid!” in a disdainful tone of voice about Richard quiet a lot, which I do, and which is surprising to Connie because I am careful not to express disdain about the other people in my life. I do this to Richard when he says genuinely stupid things, like when talking about a Victoria’s Secret model who apparently has "not only a perfect body but a really cute face too." I like that when I said “Stupid!” about this particular comment, he insisted that I look before I judge, as if I called him stupid because I disbelieved his assessment of her hotness rather than because he was being a stupid gross boy (and in front of his girlfriend, too!).

Anyway, let me recount our activities before I forget. On Monday, we first dropped off our stuff at Richard and Aimee’s apartment right in the central business district. They live in a nice new apartment building with a small pool and gym and central heating and carpeting and other nice things. They had bought a bed at Ikea just for me and Connie, which was really sweet of them. Richard’s apartment was full of Gloomy toys that Richard had won at a midway arcade in Sydney. [Incidentally, I just went to this arcade and lost $5 trying to win a digital camera to replace Powershot. Sorry I didn't get it, Con!] Connie and I posed pretending to eat their giant plush hamburger, their giant plush ramen box, and their giant plush yang le duo. Our favorite activity thus far has been posing like idiots and taking photos next to statues, sculptures, signs, etc. Then we had sandwiches at the café down the street from the apartment. I learned that a "flat white" is milk with a drop of espresso in it. Then we walked down through the tiny CBD, to the library to see Ned Kelly’s armor (Ned Kelly being an asshole who killed three cops and made armor out of ploughboards and then became a figure of heroic libertarian antiauthoritarianism), to Chinatown for a pearl milk tea, to Flinders Street Station, to Federation Square, to Richard’s dental office. Along the way, Richard acted as a tour guide and made pronouncements, a third of which were informative, a third of which were wrong (such as his declaration that Max Brenner was a Sydney shop), and a third of which were just plain crazy (such as making up shit about deadly “drop bears” that drop from branches onto the heads of unsuspecting, gullible tourists).

Richard no longer does drill-and-fill dentistry but orthodontics now. [ . . . ] Richard strapped our heads into a standing x-ray kiosk and took three-dimensional x-rays of our heads that produced many creepy and wonderful images, such as colored 3D images of our skulls and bones that could be scrolled through like a Google map. Richard talked to Connie for a long time about the source of her jaw pain. He noted that Connie’s TMJs are unevenly spaced. He then looked at my x-rays and said that we have the same problem with the collapsed arch at the front of our upper jaws, and pointed out that my sinuses are “huge,” occupying much of the space where my brain should be. The roots of my molars poke up into my sinuses, actually. There was a set of toy teeth that chattered when wound up. It had feet.

We then walked to the top of the Shrine of Remembrance. Richard complained that the walk was “Really, really far away, like thirty minutes.” It was half a mile and about ten minutes away from his workplace. Richard also wanted to take a tram four blocks down LaTrobe street to his apartment, because the road was “uphill.” Richard is the O.G. lazy fucker; I realize this is why Oliver seems so familiar to me, because he is just like my brother! At the Shrine, we tried to decipher the three flags on the flagpoles, then we stood at attention while the Australian flag came down. The hapless soldier first allowed the flag to drap in an undignified, curtain-like manner over his head, and then to drag on the ground. Some French people failed to stay silent and stand for the flag ceremony, which caused Richard to curse at them in Chinese. Richard says “we” when he means Australia. I think it just means that he is proud to live here.

It was so sweet and nice that we hung out for three days, and that Richard had prepared the room and had specially bought wines for me and Connie to try, and that he wanted to show us all his pictures from New Zealand and the videos of the Japanese spitz they had for four weeks, and take us through his daily life on Google Maps’ street view of Sydney, and that he shared his special peatsmoke-infused expensive whiskeys. I also find Richard really funny, such as when was making fun of a post-pregnancy, newly-fat Kimora Lee Simmons by calling her “gravid,” which describes lobsters who carry egg sacs around their exoskeletons, and appreciate that we actually have similar tastes and experiences (such as when he sings “I have no legs” and I can follow up by making the sound of coins rattling around a can, a Kids reference). He also told me that he remembered the day that we heard the news that our grandfather died, and how Mom was leaning against the wall crying and Dad was crying hysterically. This was 1983, so I don’t remember any of it, but he was almost six then, so his memory is better. He also remembered them crying about Tiananmen Square. We have actually shared a lot as siblings even though we have not been in the same place in a few years. [ . . . ] Connie and I have been talking about the best strategy for convincing Richard that two more years of school is not a prohibitive reason not to move back to America. I have been applying the Hu method of criticism (e.g. "Stop being stupid and move back to America"), but Connie suggests less vinegar, more sugar. It was nice also to spend time with Aimee, whom I like because she laughs at every single thing I say, and because she is really generous with her time and did incredibly thoughtful things like pack us food for our day trip and wake up earlier to cook dan bing for us.

Back to the recollection of the days. On Monday, after the Shrine, we took a tram back to their apartment. I had to ask for change from a stranger since the ticket machine did not take bills, so I applied my Yankee charm and confessed to being a stupid tourist. I am holding up my end of the bargain I struck with Connie: she makes travel decisions, I talk to strangers. We relaxed in the apartment for a bit watching some television, and then walked past Victoria market to get Korean barbecue. We crashed.

On Tuesday, we woke around 4:30a and slept fitfully until 6, and then had breakfast with Richard and Aimee. Aimee steamed us chao shao baos – more thoughtfulness! After they left, Connie and I ventured out to find Pancake Parlour, which we had difficulty finding because it was on Bourke Street, not Little Bourke Street, which was labeled “Lt. Bourke Street,” which Connie and I both thought was Bourke Street because we just assumed that Bourke had been a lieutenant. At Pancake Parlour, we had Ragu sauced poured into a pancake that cost us $30. Then we walked down the Yarra River, a closed Ferris Wheel, and then the Melbourne Cricket Ground. There we posed as cricket bowlers and batters, and then tried to charm our way into the stadium (failing), and then proceeded to touch every single thing in the gift shop, including stressball versions of cricket balls and Australian footballs, giant pencils, loser team jerseys, and keychains. We grilled the cashier about who to root for for the upcoming finals. I have chosen the Bulldogs because the other team, the Pies (Magpies), is the Yankees of Australian football.

Then we met Richard for lunch. We went to his workplace, which was very busy. I liked seeing Richard in his business wear, but I criticized him for his pineapple hair, which made him a little prickly (HAHAHA). I saw him leaning down and talking to a little boy about orthodontics, which I liked. I said to the receptionists, “I am here to see Dr. Richard Hu…my brother!” and everyone laughed. We had Thai food that gave me diarrhea in forty minutes. In those forty minutes, Connie and I walked to the Victoria markets and bought fruit. Then we went back to the apartment. Connie fell asleep and I had diarrhea and then watched half of The Fellowship of the Ring, and then all of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and remembered the very important role that franchise played in forming my curiosity about the world and about travel and my romantic but completely unrealistic expectations for the weirdness of faraway cultures. Richard and Aimee came home, and we watched Twilight, with Richard making disdainful comments about having butt sex with Edward Cullen. It was his way of expressing displeasure about Aimee’s crush on Robert Pattinson. He also muttered, "Why didn't I delete this movie?" right when Edward Cullen and Bella started to suck face. I realized that that movie is terrible but perfect, and I instructed Richard to pay attention because that movie represented everything that a woman wants, including a lover whose desire for you so overwhelms him that he shakes and furrows his brow when he finally kisses you. Later, Aimee was singing along to the Iron and Wine song, and from the toilet, Richard called out a low, reprimanding, “Aimee.” This was very funny. We ate noodles and crepes, and then bought a pillow from W mart and came home to sleep.

On Wednesday, yesterday, Connie and I did a twelve hour nausea tour of rocks along the Pacific Coast Highway a.k.a. the Great Ocean Road. A nice Irish woman named Imelda whom I was sure was going to elope with Peter our tour guide gave me a tab of ginger to ease my roiling stomach, and the LA girls sitting behind us gave me two ibuprofen tabs to help me with my sinus headache. Connie says I am hypochrondriac and that learning that I have huge sinuses has made me believe I have sinusitis, but it is true that I have sinusitis. The views were spectacular in exactly the same way that views along all of the California coast are spectacular, so Connie and I grumbled all day about this. We counted time by saying, “It is now 11 a.m., and we have an entire workday of nausea ahead of us” or “It’s noon, so it’s as if we have just finished reading nytimes.com for the first time in the workday and we still have a workdaylong of nausea ahead of us.” We continued in our tradition of taking idiotic pictures and complaining. I did a b-boy freeze on a post and Connie pretended to eat two of the Twelve Apostles. Connie paid $3.90 AUD for a Sprite. I told her about my “What the fuck!?” reaction I had to the first time I had an orgasm, which she thought was extremely funny. We returned to Melbourne at 8p, bought wine and Jack Squire porter (pretty good! No head, though) for Richard and then half-assedly watched Blood Diamond with Richard and Aimee and did Aimee’s MASH for her (Brooklyn, Brad Pitt, three children, one of which will be named “Panda”). We watched video footage from Richard and Aimee doing their bungee jumps in New Zealand, and laughed at Richard’s rag doll fall off the ledge and Aimee’s screaming. Richard poured out two wines and a whiskey for us to try.

Today I took a jog around Flagstaff Gardens while Connie woke up, and then we got ourselves to the airport. We got here two hours early, and I have been writing and drinking milk in an effort to induce diarrhea.

I have also discovered that there is no Dr. Pepper in this country so the pepperoni pizza Combos I bought in LAX are still going unpaired with their perfect complement.