Walking from one bus stop to another tonight, 11pm on a Monday, I realised what I like about the early_week_city_nights – there aren’t quite so many people about, and the people who do mill around generally aren’t drunk or drugged. You can breath without choking on car fumes. You can walk a block without harrassment. This in reflection to what I wrote after walking through the city last Friday night at approximately the same time:
The travel home was hideous. I have really started hating Sydney on weekend evenings. So many people plastered, disoriented, loud, sick. The waves of spew stench while walking through the streets and in the train stations. The alleys with girls doubled over, emptying gutfulls of expensive alcohol on the toes of their friend or acquaintance bothering to look after them. The congregations of homeless people in the arcades listening to mall music. The tragic young men who feel it’s their right to talk to every single female they meet. The cafes that turn up their music to drive the clients out at a fast pace so as to serve others. The pubs utterly packed, playing tragic 70s tracks that 20-something girls sing along to at the top of their lungs.
Is it time for me to move to the countryside yet?