A Song of Koalas and Kiwis III: The Linda

One of our first nights in Sydney, Ernesto and I went out to the gay bars. The best part of the experience was coming to understand that every gay bar everywhere is pretty much the same.

At the beginning we got a couple drinks and had fun watching the crowd. One gay sent over a hot, blonde female emissary, probably to check our sexuality.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“I’m Debbie.”

“Hi, Debbie. I’m Tedd and this is Ernesto.”

**awkward 40 second pause**

“You like dancing?” asked Debbie. “I do.” *begins disjointed gyration in our general direction*

Debbie and her gyrations quickly got bored with us, and she shimmied over to another group, probably reporting that we were very gay and not going to co-gyrate with any girls present.

It was only 10:30 pm on a Tuesday but the place was a mess. Debbie was grinding on everything, one girl was running around sloshing her drink, a typical drunk-gay-bro was yelling and cheering everyone on.

It was during this chaos that we met Abby and Linda.

Whatever drunk girl factory had made Debbie had also fired off these two. Abby was the drunkest. She was in the classic drunk loop. Three individual times she approached me and Ernesto and this exact same scenario played out:

“Are you two… like tahgether?” She asked.

“Yes,” we said.

“WHOA! That’s like, an overload of hawtness!” *Brief Pause** “You know, I’m her boss,” points to Linda, then she leaves.

Repeat x 2

Ernesto handled Abby’s Loop while I took on Linda. Linda wasn’t as drunk; she was a little older, probably in her 40’s and shy. We spoke for roughly 30 seconds and then she goes:

“Oh, you’re going to New Zealand?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, you know… the terror attack.”

That’s what she leads with. It was a very appropriate discussion in a crazy gay bar, ABBA blasting, while talking to a stranger.

So I’m like “Yeah, that’s awful. Hate… is really bad.”

Luckily, Abby and Ernesto started dancing, which distracted us.

I also start dancing and then Linda says, “Oh, I never dance.” But then she started to move a little. We all encouraged it because, as I mentioned, Linda was a bit shy and stiff and it was fun to see her loosening up.

But.. then.. she collapsed. She lurched over and rolled onto the floor.

Nothing was wrong with her, it was a super soft fall forward, but … what? So we all help her up and then she moves back to the bar. As I said, she was fine, not even drunk, but… evidently she is, truly, the only person who can’t dance. She’s a weeble wobble and quick movement disrupts her tight center of gravity.

Well, Ernesto and Abby keep dancing and I chat with Linda some more.

“It’s good to see Abby having fun at a gay bar,” she said.

“Oh?” I asked, really excited to see where this was going since our last chat was about terrorism.

She goes, “Well, you know her gay brother died a few months ago… Real shock.”

YAHTZEE, LINDA. You win the buzzkill award.

So I nod along while Linda tells me about Abby’s gay brother, who never found acceptance from his family and is now dead.

Another song starts to play and Linda then starts to sway, which was even more concerning than the sad conversation, because SHE’S A DANCING HAZARD. Abby immediately encouraged her, though, and pulled her off the bar and onto the dance floor… where… Linda rolled over and fell again. At this point I didn’t know whether we should have an intervention or something. “Abby, Linda has the most extreme case of White People Dance Syndrome I have ever seen. We need to keep her upright with minimal movement.”

As Abby picked up Linda, Ernesto and I decided it was a good time to go. We said our good-byes but before we left, Linda grabbed me and pointed to a guy in the corner.

“Tid, that’s our coworker… do you… you know… think he’s gay?”

“I.. don’t know, Linda…” I said, concerned I would also find out he has a rare kind of cancer.

“We’re just trying to find out. We want him to be happy.”

The man in question was leaning into Debbie and looking into her, so I assured Linda that he looked straight.

Just before we left, Abby got in her fourth and final loop.

“I mean… I just can’t believe the hawtness. Like both of you. In different ways!”

As we left the bar and walked home, I was sure to catch Ernesto up on The Daily Depressing Times with Linda.

“When did she even have time to bring that up??” Ernesto asked laughing.

But when you’re in a gay bar anywhere in the world with ABBA blasting, there’s probably a Linda in every corner.

“Oh, you’re going to Disneyland?”

“Yeah!”

“Have you heard about Walt Disney’s frozen head?”