Chapter 33

We are headed back home. This train starts at night ... early evening to Sydney.

Alice took one look at the buffet ... and said, “I wanted breakfast.”

The attendant heard, “Evening ... you get the evening meal selection. I need to see your ticket.”

Alice is obviously NATIVE Australian ... with an oriental in the woodpile look. Natives generally travel economy ... Economy does not include the Buffet.

He looked at me, “Yours too.”

Too hungry to protest, we both produced.

Humph

He handed out plates ... mine was chipped. Although is should be common knowledge that once the ceramic coating is disturbed bacteria flock to the chips, some people don’t care ... food poisoning is not just bad food. Food poisoning could be the poisoned plate.

“Not that one,” I said. I ignored him and took the third one in the pile. That little protest produced the Guard. He, too, was an Australia for Australians.

“I was born here ... mom was born here, grandmom was born here, great grand mom was rescued during the War and brought here as a three month old. I’m more Irish than you are.”

“Irish? Pull the other one.”

“Except for my DAD ... all my known ancestors were Irish Catholic priests. If you have a problem with that you should check with The Aboriginal Child, Family and Community State Secretariat. They are under Federal Court order to tell the truth ... and IF they don’t tell the truth I’ll sue and collect a few more million dollars to go with the seven million they paid two years ago.”

He called ... looked shocked and counceled his cohort ... the buffet attendant.

“What did they say?”

“You are Irish,” he said with a sour look on his phyz.

I kept my unchipped plate.

While this was going on Alice was recording the whole on her phone.

“Alice?”

“Just in case.”

“What?”

She said, and quite loudly at that, “The Family Court judge is always looking for cases of discrimination.” That was very smugly said.

“Oh.”

My ‘Oh’ was repeated by nearly every male in the buffet car.

We ate in peace. Slept in peace. In the morning, the train stopped at Strathfield Station. We, First Class, who were continuing on to points west were again escorted to the Bathurst platform ... the dining room opened, we had rashers, eggs, beans on toast, and fries ... then we checked on our freight.

“Not here, yet.”

There was something about the look ... unable to meet our eyes ... that made me say, “Well ... they’re insured ... a million each. We have photos and serial numbers. No worries.”

“We’ll send ‘em on when they arrive.”

“Good idea.”

Leaving, I looked back to see him gesturing like mad while he was on the phone. Alice noticed, too. Alice said, “You ain’t as dumb as I thought.”

“Alice ... since you graduated you’ve turned into a pretty good sister ... handy too.”

“High School is the pits ... drama queens ... and that’s the guys. The girls are worse. I tested out so I wouldn’t have to deal with them.”

The train to Bathurst and Broken Hill. Pulled up, we boarded ... it’s only a smidge more than three hours home.

Taxies, ass. We walked. Nice to be home. McDees provided lunch. Ah ... junk food.