Making it to the top of the top end.

Blacktress' Log, Thursday, 19 March 2009.

Greetings from Darwin!!

The last week has been crazy and awesome, full of randomness and excessive heat--temperature-wise, I mean.

After 6 days in the Outback, our group partied it up in Alice Springs, which is a pretty boring town. If it wasn't for Bojangles pub and the bottle of wine I'd treated myself to, I don't know how I would have gotten through it. Tuesday I was a hot ass mess, and I awoke to find myself being spooned by my Outback tour guide, a ruddy Aussie man who goes by the nickname 'Jesus.'

I guess you could say I woke up in Jesus's arms.

It was odd and random. Not only because Jesus had three beds in his room and there was no need for us to share a space, but because Jesus is betrothed. Nothing happened, and it was very PG--although his touch was surprisingly tender and he held me all night, which I don't know if I'd want my future husband doing with a nubian princess such as myself. There was no weirdness in the morning, thank god/his dad. This wouldn't be the first time I'd won the affections of a taken man.

I spent much of Tuesday nursing my hot mess of a hangover, hydrating and doing tons of writing. My flight out of town was Wednesday arvo, so I woke up bright and early, showered, de-sketchified, and headed off into the bright sun to see what Alice had to offer. It's quite a small city, and the main attractions are walkable enough.

So, you guys know how I'm really into reptiles, right? This means that the Alice Springs Reptile Centre was my first stop. As I walked through the exhibition, loving the cold-blooded creatures, I took note of all the venomous ones, should I come across them along my travels. As I walked through one section, I noticed this Olive Python was eye-fucking the shit out of me from inside its cage. It was really weird--totally one of those moments where I wish I could speak Parseltongue and figure out what the hell was going on.

In addition to its reptiles, I greatly appreciated the Centre's air conditioning, and just took my time reading placards and cooling off. While admiring a dinosaur fossil (yes, admiring), I was alerted to an animal presentation starting up. Suh-weet.

Maureen, our lovely presenter, showed us all sorts of creatures that we were then allowed to HOLD. I totally elbowed children out of the way and held a blue-tongued lizard, a horny devil (yes, a horny devil), and the Python who was staring at me. It was totally cool--I seem to have lost all fear since my journey into the outback. I was a bit wary of the massive snake, but he just slithered and it was all good....for a while.

As I went to hand it back to Maureen, it began to constrict around my hand.

My life flashed before my eyes. I totally knew there was a reason it was staring at me before--it was sizing me up for the kill. Being a constrictor, it's grip was deadly and I struggled to squeeze my hand out without making a scene that would scare the children. "Umm........" I said sorta loudly. Maureen told me to stay calm and or force the snake off, as it would feel threatened. I wriggled my hand out sloooooowwwwwllllly, and managed to break free--you can't put shackles on this blacktress, reptilian or otherwise!!!

Escaping death, I headed off to a couple other sights then went to the airport. There, I ran into this cool chick who I'd met in Sydney through a friend a couple months back. She's from Hotlanta and is totally a strong black woman in a white woman's body. We discovered we were seated in the same row--22A and C. We joked about talking over whoever was in between us.

When we got to our seats, we saw there were only seats A and C together. Talk about meant to be! We were obvi fated to be together, and spent three hours talking about dudes, travel, and fun times ahead. Her hostel was down the road from mine, and we met up and went out on the town last night. We landed at 7pm and it was still 90 degrees and humid out. Hot mess.

Darwin wasn't exactly popping on a Wednesday, and we went to the one hot spot, The Vic. The cover band was rocking ('Save Tonight,' by Eagle Eye Cherry, anyone?), and with $3 tequila shots, you know we'd basically gotten ourselves two tickets to the Shit Show. We ended up meeting some Canadian dudes, one of whom was 21 and tried to flirt with me. He was outgoing, had a full beard, and totally seemed older than me until he revealed that his age. I mean, wtf, Canadians--why must you always trick me?! He's from Sasketchawan, where I guess all the men are part Yeti and born rugged. I explained to him that, "I can't do anything with 21," and he got annoyed. Me and my new bff left The Vic at about 1am, chanting our new motto:

Darwin. My town. Love it.

Lessons From Another Wesley

On this third day of blackness, I would like to speak of a Negro who is not famous. A simple man, just riding public transportation, and dropping knowledge...

Yesterday, I was on my way to the Ted Haggard Monologues, to sing for Jesus the way only a blacktress can. In typical New York City form, the trains were being cray cray, and I decided to hop on a bus to get to the express. As I'm on the corner waiting for the light to change, I see the very bus I desire speeding towards the stop. Fuck! I'm not going to make it! I think as the bus reaches the stop and the cars continue to whizz by.

The bus stops to let passengers exit. I'm looking left and right, judging whether or not its appropriate to play a game of frogger in an attempt to cross the road. As I'm deciding how much I value my life (and catching this bus), I notice something: The bus isn't moving.

That's right. No one's getting on or off, but the doors are open. The driver's blinkers are on...as if he's waiting... for me.

I mean, is it Black History Month or what? The spirit of Negro giving is all around us!
As I board the bus and give the driver a hearty thanks, I am moved by the kindness and goodness coming from this downtown-bound M3. For the first time in months, instead of praising White Jesus, I praise the black mortal.

And I feel good.

I take a single seat (I try to avoid sitting next to people during cold and flu season), and bask in the karmic goodness of the evening. The man sitting in front of me turns around, and says,
"That was nice of him!"
"It sure was, Older Black Man Who Slightly Slurs." I smile, deciding its best to share the goodness, and do my part for BHM.
"I thought he was waiting for that other lady. Did you flag him down?"
"No, I actually, I didn't think he'd see me. But I was sorta gesturing wildly." (I then mimic the gestures I was making on the street corner, and several passengers stared at me in confusion and worry.)
"Well, you have a lovely smile and seem like a nice person, and good things happen to good people."

I was floored. This Black History Month was getting better by the second. Not since the soul-searching cowboy had a man I'd briefly met seen so deep into my soul for who I am. Yes, he was right-- I AM a good person.

"Thank you," I said sincerely.
"You just gotta wake up and be glad you're alive and everything's gonna be all right."
"Mmm-hmm," I said. I was starting to get a little bored by this conversation, as I often do after I've been complimented and we've hit the high point.
"I almost didn't wake up once," he said, pointing to the hat on his head. It said in big letters, VIETNAM VETERAN.

Now, I didn't think war veterans were getting hats. This seems a little ridiculous to me, kinda like the equivalent of "I went to war and all I got was this stupid hat"-- what about healthcare, jobs, support from the government? This man clearly could have used all of these things instead of a hat.

But I decided not to go there.

"By the way, my name is Wesley," he said.

I didn't know if I should tell him that Wesley Snipes was my featured Negro of the day and that I thought this was kismet. I just smiled and said hello again (and didn't give him my name).

"How you doing?"

Um, hadn't we already been there? I just said I was fine and asked him how he was.

"I'm just trying to survive this Holocaustic madness."

WHAT?

Wesley just came out of left field with that one--even though the hat was probably a hint that something like that was coming.

"Well, that's all you can do," I said laughing as though I had any idea what "Holocaustic" meant.

"Yep, this is holocaustic madness."

Just then the bus reached 125th and we both had to get off. I let Wesley go first, and he turned to me, grabbed my arm, and said, "Be safe!"
I said thank you and turned towards the subway station.

I heard Wesley yell after me, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't-- he had left me with much to think about already. After complimenting me, he turned my attention to the horrors of war and its aftermath. He then mentioned the Holocaust, as well as our current state of affairs. And he did this all with a respect and kindness that can only be found during the month of blackness.