About forty-five minutes outside of Melbourne, we stopped to drop one of our fellow traveler's off at a railway station. Located next to a park, I took the opportunity to hop out of the van and stretch and take in some fresh air. Apparently, I also took in a spider. Napping the rest of the way to Melbourne, I was unaware I was repeatedly getting bitten and when I woke up, I found I had a searing pain radiating from my face.
At first, I thought it was a mosquito bite. I am mildly allergic to mosquitos and have to build up an immunity to each different species every season, and react worse to some than others. 'Man, these Australian mosquitos pack a nasty punch,' I thought. But closer inspection revealed two fang marks on each bite. Spider.
Two bites on my cheek, one on my ear, one on the webbing between my thumb and my index finger and one on my shin. They burn, they itch, they are generating a ton of heat, they are rock hard and now they are weeping. Oh, not to mention they are unsightly. Last time I was in Melbourne, I got a burn on my neck I swear a ghost gave me in the middle of the night that was shaped like two lips and looked suspiciously like a hickey (honestly, it was a burn -- hickeys don't scab!). Now it looks like a vampire had his way with my face. What is it with this town and embarrassing conspicuous disfigurement?
And just in time to go see The Break (a surf band fronted by Brian Ritchie of the Violent Femmes and Rob Hirst, Jim Moginie and Martin Rotsey of Midnight Oil) open for the Hoodoo Gurus. I am almost always more excited to see the opening act than the headliner at concerts and this is no exception (sorry Jack). However, I'd be more excited if I didn't have these damned oozing spider bites on my face. Still didn't stop the drunk bald man who stole my jacket from flirting with me. Or my brother and sister-in-law for pushing me toward him. Thanks Jack and Mauz.
To add insult to injury, after the concert, a young gay man was blatantly flirting with my brother. When Jack left to visit the restroom, the young man said to me, "He's really good-looking, like Bon Jovi." Sensing perhaps he thought Jack was my date, I said, "Yeah, he's my brother." To which the young man replied, "Oh that's cool -- you're like John and Joan Cusack." Great. Now I'm Joan Cusack. Everyone knows who the ugly duckling is in that sibling pairing:
Hello Melbourne! Nice to see you again too!
Aw, it's all good. It will be Christmas soon and I am with my family in a wonderful city, tomorrow I will see my niece for the first time in 10 months, and I am probably just a little too vain for my own good anyway.
So cheers to weeping spider bites, my handsome brother, his equally gorgeous wife, my incredibly cute little niece and their very generous hospitality, to old bands making fantastic new music, to old bands playing tired old music but still rocking it and holding on to their dreams, to balding men having a great time dancing without a care and flirting shamelessly with women with oozing facial punctures and to young men making well-meaning observations and flirting shamelessly with handsome older-ish gentlemen. Hello Melbourne, indeed. It's good to be back.
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