A Little Less Conversation

On Friday afternoon when I was getting off the tram at the university after meeting up with Sara in the city (which was great fun, chica, thanks so much!) the tram driver said "Once again, on behalf of Yarra Trams, I would like to wish you a good day and hope you enjoy the weekend." Maybe it's because I've never caught a 5.30 tram on a Friday, or had that driver, but I've not heard any driver say that before on a tram (there are so few variations of "please stand away from the doors," or "use the front doors, the back ones are outside the safety zone"); it was a welcome and pleasant sentiment.

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Standing at the tram tracks, waiting to cross the road, the girl next to me, who is dragging a sizable suitcase, asks "Can you tell me how to get to Ormond college?" I smile and say "I can walk you there, it's on my way." As we trundle/wheel our way down Monash Road, through Union House and around the athletics' track, we discover that we live two hours from each other in the same state (in the country, that's a stone's throw) and exclaim over knowing the same people (when you're rural, everyone knows everyone else, or at least knows of them). Such a delightful surprise! But she goes to uni in Bathurst, and was simply visiting a friend. I wish her well.

***

I overheard this unfinished comment outside the Trinity gates (whilst walking my new friend to Ormond), and it was intriguing, if not a hyperbole; "I would rather slit my own throat than..." what? Be covered in honey and fed to ants? Do exams? Live in Trinity?

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Last night was the intercollegiate athletics competition, and fortunately voluntary (as in one could choose to train/compete, a refreshing change from years of compulsory competing) which meant that for once I could simply be a cheering spectator. Somehow, the whole night/dark/lights atmosphere was made it more exciting. Our college – being so small – doesn’t usually stand a chance, but one of the tutors is Speedy Gonzales, and we managed to excel in some of the races, but more about that later. I met up with Pepito, who felt the urge for coffee, so we – and a friend from college, whom I’ll call A – meandered down to Lygon St for some late night caffeine.

Being that I had just introduced two of my friends who didn’t know each other, I was slightly worried that it would be awkward/tense, but we all got along very well, and it transpired that they took the same Psych class and knew a few of the same people.

We arrived back at uni around 10, just in time for the girls 4×400m relay, one of the final events. Our timing was perfect; this was, perhaps, for our college, the most thrilling event of the night. Our fastest runner – Speedy herself – was first, and opened up a tremendous lead of probably 200m. Our second runner only increased this lead. Our third runner was clearly tired, poor girl, as she’d been in other events, and the lead was closed somewhat. Our fourth runner maintained her pace, but the other runners were closing in fast, and it really came down to the finish, but we won! We were screaming our hearts out the entire way. It was elating.

But the night was still young! Many went back to college for a beer and a congregation (“party”) in someone’s room. Myself and A planned to watch Chicago, having been listening to Cell Block Tango on her phone during dinner (that’s right, on her phone. They’re MP3 players now, don’t you know?) This proved an adventure in itself. She had the DVD, but had lent it to someone, R. In tracking R down, we trawled the house rooftop to ground floor and back again, finally tracking him down and attracting two other girls on the way who shared our interest. Turns out she hadn’t leant it to him. In any case, one of the girls we’d “attracted” had a copy. Finally (by 11) we sat down in the JCR (Junior Common Room) to watch and by 1am, we were tired but singing “I’m going to paint the town…and all that jazz!”

x
Just a girl