My Brush with Fame, Executing Hookers, and Everything I Say Is Misunderstood

I don’t mean to talk so much about “the footy” (Australian Rules Football), but I can’t help it. It is a very big part of Victorian culture. In Melbourne, there are multiple teams that play four games per weekend in front of crowds that would sell out any stadium in the United States. It has been a couple of months since this happened and I have told a few people about it, but I think the story merits a retelling...

Before Julie and the kids arrived, I made the decision that we barrack for the Saint Kilda Saints. Yep, that’s our team. Side note, in Oz, you always say “barrack for” and never “root” as “root” is slang for to have intercourse with. After making this very serious and legally binding decision, I decided to get some Saints clothes. I travelled all the way out to Moorabin and went to the official Saint’s store. I purchased Zoe a dress and matching hoodies for Carson and I.

On our first full day in Australia, I decided to get the kids out of the house and let Julie do some unpacking. I’m the kind of dork who is willing to dress my son in a matching outfit and we both headed out in our Saints hoodies. Our first stop was a local coffee shop that has a nice play area. I drank my coffee while the kids played with some new friends.

The parents were rather friendly too and I asked them about the best parks in the local area and general parenting advice. After a few minutes of conversation, a man in his fifties approached me and smiled widely.

“Excuse me,” he said, “do you have an American accent?”

I smiled, I had done my best to blend in with the hoodie, but once I opened my mouth, I gave myself away. “Yes,” I replied.

“Where are you from?”

The smart ass in me wanted to say Perth, but I had officially retired that joke. Maybe the reason I made the joke up in the first place is because I have a hard time answering this very simple question. I was born in a suburb of Philadelphia. I lived there for six weeks, so I hardly consider that home (what the hell were my parents thinking moving with a three year old and an infant?). I moved too many places to count and don’t remember any of them before I was four. My childhood that I do remember was spent in Phoenix, Arizona. As an adult; I wandered to Colorado Springs, Evanston, Los Angeles, Silicon Valley, and Seattle. For whatever reason, I told the man I was from Seattle.

He paused for a moment. “Top left, isn’t it?”

I smiled. I had never thought of it that way, but yes, top left if a fairly accurate description of the geographic location of my supposed home town.

“So, I have to ask, why do you barrack for the Saints?”

I liked this guy and I was enjoying our conversation. I began to really open up. “First of all, we live in Port Melbourne and Saint Kilda is the next town over. I jog there all the time. Then there’s the history. The Saints have the losingest record in the history of the AFL. More recently, they just went to two Grand Finales without winning. In recent years, they look great on paper but can’t seem to find a way to win which is perfect because I need a team that is guaranteed to break my heart.”

The man found my response to be funny and fairly well researched. With all of the pride that a father can have for his adult son, he told me, “I’m Nick Riewalt’s dad!”

Without thinking, I responded simply, “Who?”

My new friend’s smile faded a bit. He had just spent several minutes talking to an American wearing a Saints hoodie, talking about the history of the Saints, and living in the area who didn’t know who his son, the captain of the Saints and their star player, was. Whoops. Even after this faux pas, I enjoyed talking to him. I would also like to make it clear that he was truly a nice guy and I hope to run into him again.

It’s kind of funny to hear people talk about my accent. I had the kids at the zoo and I was trying to get them to leave. Carson grabbed my hand and insisted we see one more exhibit. I had no idea where he was taking me but was trying to herd Zoe in the same direction. We got  there and I read the sign, “North American Otter”. Without thinking, I said, “Oh, they’re otters!”

Two Aussie women overheard me. “It sounds so funny in your accent.”

I laughed. They kept saying “ot - terrrrr” over and over again. It didn’t sound anything like me, but they were very amused. Ot - terrrr. That’s the funny, harmless part of having an accent. Sometimes, it’s not so funny and I am completely misunderstood.

I somehow lucked into having great neighbors. They graciously offered to take me to a finals game of the AFL (they say finals instead of playoffs). I was happy for a reason to go to the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) and watch a game even if it wasn’t my team.

The AFL started here in Melbourne and has slowly branched out to the rest of Australia. My neighbors are from Perth (ironically) and support the West Coast Eagles. Of the 67,000 plus people in attendance, maybe 1,000 of them were cheering for the Eagles. The other 66,000 were cheering on the number one ranked Collingswood (a suburb of Melbourne). My neighbors belong to a club of Eagles supporters and we sat in their section. My neighbor, Greg, knew just about every one of the thousand Eagles fans.

The game started and the Eagles played well in a valiant defeat. After the first quarter, Greg and I wound up heckling the girl sitting in front of us. It was probably my NFL football jersey that gave me away, but she started to give me a list of things to do in Melbourne.

“You need to go to Healesville.”

“I’ve done that.”

“You need to go to Luna Park.”

“I’ve done that.”

“You need to see a kangaroo in the wild.”

“Look, I’ve done everything there is to do in Melbourne except execute a hook turn.”

If this scene were in a movie, all 67,000 people in attendance would have stopped cheering, the players on the field would have stopped playing, the crazy noise surrounding us would have gone to absolute silence. The only thing that would have been heard would be the sound of a record scratching.

I was confused. Greg and the girl looked at me and then at each other appalled.

“You know, when you make a right turn from the left lane?”

“OH! A HOOK (pause) TURN!”

It then dawned on me that they thought I casually suggested that I needed to execute a hooker. It was my turn to be appalled.

“My ten year old neighbor is sitting right next to me! What did you think I was talking about!”

If I could be that misunderstood amongst friends, it made me wonder what else I’ve said that has been radically misinterpreted.

As we were leaving, Greg introduced me to a friend. He saw my Arizona Cardinal’s jersey and told me proudly he was part of the “Steeler’s nation”. I was shocked and a bit surprised. Not that he cared about the NFL, Aussies love sports so much they will watch anything, but that he would choose the Steelers.

“Have you ever been to Pittsburgh?”

“No.”

“Do you ever plan to go to Pittsburgh?”

“No.”

“If you could go anywhere in the United States, would Pittsburgh even rank in your top ten of cities you would want to go to?”

“No.”

“Then why do you give a shit about the Steelers?!”

I got an answer that he liked the colors when he was a kid and  watched them win a Super Bowl in the late seventies. Here, once you pick a team you can never change. I say that’s bullshit.

A week later, the NFL season started. I woke up at 6AM Monday morning and the morning games from Sunday back in the States were already over. A few hours later, I received a text from my mate, Darren, gloating that his beloved Niners had solidly beaten the Seahawks.

For the last several years, Darren and I have bet when our two pathetic teams meet. Since Darren won’t bet money; it has resulted in Darren listening to the musical “Cats”, me listening to the “Best of Billy Ray Cyrus”, and other acts of unspeakable torture. For whatever reason, Darren and I never worked out any sort of bet for this season.

I saw his text and my first thought was, “We never made a bet, so I’m not going to have to listen to Barbara Streisand!”

My next thought was, “Who gives a shit?”

I replied back that I no longer care about the Seahawks, I will never attend a game at Qwest field, and I now consider the Chargers to be my team. There was no immediate reply and I forgot about the whole conversation.

A few hours later, Darren texted saying that I can’t do that and switching teams would result in anarchy. It made me think of the Steelers fan I met at the footy. Why should I care about a team in Seattle when I don’t live there anymore, don’t want to live there anymore, and never particularly liked living there in the first place?

I’m now coming out publicly to say, I officially renounce my fandom of the Seattle Seahawks and henceforth pronounce myself to be a fan of the San Diego Chargers. I have asked a few Australians for their views on this unconventional move. Surprisingly, once I presented my case, most have been supportive. What do the Americans have to say? (Except Darren - he doesn’t count)

Never Forget

Ten years ago, over 3,000 people died in an act of senseless violence. To everyone who lost a father, son, brother, mother, daughter, sister, or friend in this completely avoidable incident; I am sure a void in their life still exists. There are two things that I can’t stop thinking about ten years later. The level of arrogance, stupidity, intolerance, and self-righteousness that led to the act of suicide mixed with mass murder still shocks me. Additionally, as tragic as the event was, the United States over reacted to such a degree that Al-Qaida might very well have won.

Over a decade ago, I admired the members of the B’hai faith greatly. The B’hais believe that all religions contain the fundamental elements of the truth and therefore are equally valid. When I lived in Evanston, Illinois, I used to make it a goal to run from my apartment to the B’hai temple. I had several conversations with members of the faith and always found them to be warm and compassionate people. Now older and more cynical, I have adopted the opposite version of the B’hais. I believe that EVERY religion is fundamentally wrong and all equally invalid. I find it both sad and ironic when “Christians” mock Mormons or Scientologists as if Lord Xenu trapping Thetans in a volcano is any less believable than the concept of a benevolent, all knowing God that came up with the plan of having a son that was really himself impregnated into a virgin, living a “perfect” life, and then being murdered in an excruciatingly torturous way in order to appease, um, himself was a good idea.

Or the idea that god himself came down from heaven and gave the land of Israel to the Jews. It didn’t matter that there were already people living there. The fact that the Jews have only occupied Israel about half the time over the last four thousand years is irrelevant too. The alleged four hundred years of slavery (no archaeological evidence to back this one up), occupation by the Mesopotamians, occupation by the Romans, the Spanish Inquisition, the Pogroms, or the Holocaust are not evidence that the Jews are not indeed god’s chosen people. I could go on and on as I am an equal opportunity offender, but I will stop here.

I was once an evangelical atheist. I am still an atheist, but I am a kinder, gentler atheist. I am comfortable with religion not playing a part in my life. I understand, that for most, religion provides a sense of community, shared beliefs, and structure that may very well enhance their lives. So long as these potential benefits are not used for intolerance towards homosexuals, other religious groups, preventing science, discrimination, and violence; I am fine with whatever anyone wants to believe, but consider this...

Religion at the allegorical level is fine and dandy, but when fundamentalism takes hold, bad things tend to happen. Not only do the band things happen, it’s just plain stupid. I make it no secret that I am a fan of Star Wars. I watched all the movies and discuss them ad nauseum with anyone who will listen. I will go so far as to say that Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith contains a very good moral message. I stop well short of believing that any of it LITERALLY happened.

I understand that while I like Star Wars, there are people who like Harry Potter. There are people who like the Lord of the Rings. I watched some of the movies, but didn’t like them as much as Star Wars. Never have I sought to harm anyone who didn’t like Star Wars. I married a woman who is, at best, indifferent to Star Wars. I have never forced my belief of Star Wars being the superior science fiction movie on anyone.

That is all religion is, it’s the love of a fictional, absurd tale gone way too far. Take from it what you will. Learn from the parts that makes sense. Love your neighbor and all that good stuff. Forget about the proper rules for buying and selling slaves. Forget about the genocides and xenophobia. Don’t take it literally! For I fear Satan as much as I fear Lord Voldermort.

The extremists who willingly killed themselves by flying airplanes into civilian office buildings did so in the name of Harry Potter. Or for Frodo. Those who hate gays do it because that’s what Annakin Skywalker said. It is in irrational, indefensible position. It defies logic. But sadly, common sense is not common.

Following 9/11 people were afraid. I knew people who cancelled flights out of fear. Once fear crept in, explaining the odds of dieing due to a terrorist attack (infinitesimally small) did no good. Rationally, driving to the airport is more dangerous than getting on an airplane.

I could remember a time when my mom used to take us to the airport to pick up my dad and we could make it to his gate in minutes. Today, security lines can be an hour or longer and I hate flying, not out of fear, but out of annoyance. It’s bad enough when I try to get through security but coaching Carson through security is downright awful. He gets scared and is confused and it makes me not want to fly. What’s worse is I don’t think we are any safer as every security measure is backward looking and has stopped no one seeking to do harm.

In addition to the added annoyance and useless show of stupidity that we call “security”, the United States started an unnecessary war with Iraq. There were no WMDs. No ties to Al-Qaida. We, as a country, all fell for it out of a need to do something in the face of tragedy. Now after years of fighting a two front foreign war, expanding entitlement programs, AND cutting taxes has brought the States to a financial crisis. A crisis, in part, enabled by 9/11.

Where do we go from here? I honestly don’t know. I do believe it is time to stop American imperialism. I do believe we need a sensible security policy instead of instilling fear into civilians. That we need to focus on intelligence instead of draconian rules at airports. Most of all, on this anniversary, I am saddened that those who irrationally hate have, at least partially, won.

What Do You Think?

We were taking the kids to the zoo and I was preparing my three year old daughter, Zoe, to get on the tram. Usually, I am a loud, foul mouthed American wearing an NFL jersey and draped in the US flag. OK, that might be a slight exaggeration, but it is usually pretty easy to peg me as a Yank. Except this time; I was completely camouflaged as I was gently speaking to Zoe, offering her words of encouragement, and letting her know what was going to happen next when the incident occurred.

“What do you think of the S&P downgrade?” a superfan of the Richmond Tigers yelled at me in a taunting manner.

Uncharacteristically, I ignored him instead of letting him have it.

Superfan wouldn’t let it go as he pressed, “Come on, you must think something about the downgrade.”

Again, I held back. “I am trying to help my girl get on the tram and I don’t want to discuss this right now,” was all I said.

Superfan stood there trying to get a response from me, but I declined to give him the satisfaction. Ironically, I spend the better part of every day trying to get someone to listen to my crazy opinions and I do have a lot of thoughts on economics. Someone was actually begging for my opinion and I froze like a deer in headlights.

Well, here’s what I think. First of all, Mr. Richmond Tigers Superfan, you are a colossal dick. You went out that day looking to find an American to kick while they were down and gloat over them. I was not wearing anything that identified me as an American and I was talking very softly with my mouth to the ground so my daughter could hear me. Superfan must have had a special American accent radar detector running at full strength to have heard me. To interrupt me as I was trying to help my little girl who was obviously a bit nervous about the noise, the crowds, and what she was supposed to do - that was beyond rude.

I think one of the reasons I held back was because I didn’t feel comfortable letting the f-bombs fly in front of my kids (Julie has heard it all at this point). I think you are an insecure, insignificant little bugger if your idea of a good time is hassling Americans out with their families over the financial tragedies hitting our homeland, even if it is all our fault. I don’t like anyone gloating over anything that causes this many people that much pain. The Aussie economy is humming along right now, and I’m happy for that. I do think everyone should be cautious of making an extrapolation error and realize that good times and bad times never last and all economies are cyclical. Enjoy this boom and save for a rainy day.

Second, how can anyone take S&P seriously anymore? If you haven’t read Michael Lewis’ “The Big Short”, quit reading my crappy blog and read that - it’s infinitely better written and I consider it to be one of the best books ever written. S&P put AAA ratings on some of the most toxic mortgages ever made and directly contributed to the present financial crisis.

S&P handed out AAA ratings like they were candy a few years back, but strangely, only four US companies have AAA ratings. Microsoft, Johnson & Johnson, Exxon-Mobile, and ADP are all fine companies and deserve the highest of credit ratings. Yet strangely, giant extremely profitable companies with tens of BILLIONS of dollars in cash are not on this list. How can Apple, the most valuable company in the world (by market cap), with $70B in CASH and zero debt not be a AAA company?

For too long S&P has been rubber stamping their ratings and people who know better have been listening. Not only have they been wrong, they have been spectacularly wrong. Their reasoning for downgrading the US contained a serious math error and they still pressed forward with the downgrade proving their whole rating system to be meaningless anyway. I think we would be better off if we stopped listening to S&P, Fitch, and Moody’s and started listening to common sense. Fuck you, S&P!

Third, I think Australia is in the midst of a housing bubble. I hope it doesn’t end as badly as the US housing crisis and it is more of a soft landing than a crash, but the evidence is all around. Homes are expensive relative to incomes. What’s worse is the difference between mortgage payments and rents. The townhome next to ours is nearly identical to our unit in every way. It is being auctioned this weekend and if we were to purchase it, our payments in mortgage would be DOUBLE what we pay in rent.

I pointed out the mortgage to rent ratio to a friend whose opinion I greatly respect. He simply said that the metrics we use in the States do not apply in Oz. Again, I have a lot of respect for his opinion, but... on second thought it sounds like saying the gravitational constant g, or the natural log base e, or the speed of light c are different in Australia.

I have seen plenty of articles here pointing out the benefits of home ownership as an investment. When reading the fine print, they all call for 5-6% annual appreciation. It brings me back to a simpler time when I first started investing in stocks way back in 1999. That year, the NASDAQ rose over 80%. Even in my crazy enthusiasm could not expect those kind of returns every year, but I started building spreadsheets based on 30% annual compound returns. Now older and more mature, I am embarrassed by this level of irrational exuberance but I find this myopic extrapolation error all around me. I think we will stick with renting for a very long while.

Finally, I didn’t let this run in ruin my day with my family. The zoo here in Melbourne is fantastic. The wide assortment of exotic animals were amazing, but just as important, the layout of the zoo was the best I have ever seen. Plenty of wide open spaces for the kids to run and play and there was so much room that it never felt truly crowded. Additionally, as parents of pre-schoolers, I noticed that there were public toilets all over the zoo. It felt like I was never more than a short walk away when the inevitable announcement of, “I have to go potty!” was proclaimed. Even better, the restrooms were pretty clean.

As I was revelling in the abundance of public toilets, Julie made her own observation. At every public toilet, right outside, was a pay scale. Who goes to the zoo and thinks to themselves, “Hey, I really need to weigh myself publicly and I’d be willing to pay $2 for the privilege?”

As soon as I voiced the question, Julie answered it. “Skinny bitches. They get on the scale and say, ‘Oh no, I’ve gained two pounds!’”

Before I came here, I said that I have never met an Australian I didn’t like. In my three months here, I have. However, there are far less people here, per capita, that I don’t like than anywhere else I have ever been. I still feel honored to have the opportunity to be here and share this experience with my family. In a weird way, and I hope this does not sound condescending to Aussies, I feel that Australia is the little brother to the United States. As young as the States are as a country, Australia is even younger. The US had a hundred years as an independent country and was fighting a civil war by the time Australia was being colonized. The US went through a period of rapid growth and prosperity to become a true super power only to find middle age has settled in. Australia, as a country, is still young full of ambition and dreams. I only hope that Oz learns from the States and does not repeat our fool hearty mistakes thinking that it will turn out differently for you.

A Little Perspective

I was eating dinner with friends when someone sheepishly asked, “Do you think our kids are spoiled?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Abso-fucking-lutely! I mean do you think my old man would have tolerated me yelling at him from the back seat that my movie was over? He would have yelled at me, ‘If you’re going to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about!’”

Then I hesitated as a couple of childhood memories came flooding back. I was probably about ten and my mom came into my room and put my clean laundry on the floor. Previously, she used to take the clean laundry, fold it into neat little piles, and then ask that I put the laundry away. However, on this day, she just left a pile of clean laundry on the floor.

I yelled, “That’s not FAIR!”

She barely raised her voice and told me that I was too old to have the laundry folded for me any more. I continued to voice my disapproval and my acting like a brat never rattled her. Hindsight, being what it is, I know now what I should have said.

I should have said, “Thank you. Thank you for doing the laundry. I honestly don’t know where you find the time between work, grocery shopping, dishes, cooking, cleaning, and dealing with us. I’ll take the laundry that you were kind enough to wash for me and put it away. In fact, if there’s anything else I can do to help out, let me know, because you do an awful lot.”

But it gets worse... I’ve actually mouthed off to my parents when they asked me to do simple things like unload the dishwasher. I would say things like, “What did you have me to be your slave?”

<sarcasm>Yep, that was the plan. My mom dealt with carrying me for nine months, the pain of child birth, the sleepless nights, the unbelievable expenses - all of this was worth it so that if reminded multiple times, I would unload the dishwasher. And I would do a crappy job. And I would bitch about it mightily. Yep, that was the plan.</sarcasm>

Now that I’m a parent, I realize that although our kids might be spoiled, I was pretty spoiled too. I appreciate the fact that at least I had some chores to do, got an allowance, and learned some life lessons even if I complained the entire time.

I suppose every generation thinks the next generation is spoiled. All I can do is keep this in mind and try to instill decent values in my kids. This weekend is Father’s Day in Australia, so after giving a shout out to my mom, I’d like to thank my old man for playing catch with me, teaching me how to hit, going to my sporting events, taking me to Phoenix Suns games, taking me to movies, encouraging me to hack on computers, teaching me concepts not taught in school, and introducing me to the TV series “Seinfeld”. I like to bust your chops a lot, but I owe you. You set a good example for me by working hard, keeping food on the table, and spending time with the kids. You were always there and I appreciate it. Now that this moment of sentimentality is over, I promise to go right back to picking on you and complaining...