It’s always one or the other trams that I get wrong. It goes to the rugby stadium; the other past the MCG. Last night, for the first home rugby game of the season, I got the wrong one. Again.
But was it?
Instead, I ended up chatting with two fellow rugby fans from Queensland who took my word (!) that they needed to get the tram I was boarding.
As we ambled past the road the tram I thought we were on was meant to turn on, I realised I had got the wrong tram; they chuckled, and I apologised. Off we got at the MCG – and meandered through a throng of Ed Sheeran fans as they flocked to that stadium. Around, past the statues we went, chatting amiably, a warm Melbourne evening.
It felt good. The guys and I easily delved into rugby-speak, that relaxed patios of shared experiences of teams and love of the game, no matter where you are from, or who you support.
I learned they had come to Melbourne for the weekend to watch the games; I was meeting up with my former neighbour, a Kiwi, sports-mad; been too long since we yelled at the bad Rebels’ lineouts. COVID, moving and life.
In the helter-skelter of life, work and life admin, it’s not always easy to make the time to take the time and be present in the moment. An hour before, I’d been in engaged in unparliamentary language with the car’s GPS which was convinced it knew a quick way through the inner suburbs to get me into the city; and let’s not talk about the parking firm and their booked carpark – nope, pre-bookings not getting in either. Ah Fridays…..
Life slowed. It smiled at us. We arrived at the game; the guys heading to one side of the ground, me to the other. Warm handshakes. A good chat. Enjoy your stay, gents. Had I been not late nor on the other side of the ground, we’d have had a beer.
Melbourne smiled.
Friday night lights beckoned.
And I was glad I’d gotten the wrong tram.
