Day 32 - August 4h

Day 32 - August 4th
Today I was tempted to cheat myself and not count the shot of vodka I did to say farewell to Aaron as a drinking day.
But that's bullshit
It still counts

        This guy English Aaron (there were two Aarons staying at the hostel, English Aaron was English, and the other Aaron was homeless – or thereabouts – but you can't call someone Homeless Aaron. He didn't have another defining characteristic though, so he just stayed Aaron, and we called the English one English Aaron to differentiate... I mean yeah, you're not a moron, you get it)... so this guy English Aaron stayed in the same room as me at the hostel and was really the first guy I remember talking to when I got off the bus from Adelaide. He looked kind of like Karl Pilkington, if I remember correctly? Which I probably don't.
        He used to sit in the kitchen and drink while everyone else cooked and chatted, he was just a very friendly presence in the common area. One time he told me this story about how he jumped onto a slow-moving freight train as it passed a train platform – you know the way you always tell yourself you totally could, but never actually do, he did that. But he realised once he did it that now he was just stuck on this freight train with no way to get off, so he started climbing over the carriages towards the front, meanwhile people at intersections could see him on there as he went past, and someone eventually called the police. When he got up to the cabin the driver was furious, and told him they'd set him down when they got to the next stop. The police met him there, furious too and suspecting some sort of terrorism, so they took him into questioning and asked him why he was on the train. What was he doing? Was he a terrorist? Protester? Or just a vandal looking for trouble? “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”
        And all he could think of was “..I... I just love trains.”
        Hahahahahaha!
        He said, “As long as I can remember I've always wanted to ride up in the cabin with the train driver, so I jumped on to the train and now my dream has come true!” WHAT A GENIUS! Can't argue with that! The guys not dangerous, he's just a fucking moron.

        On this day, August the 4th, Aaron left the hostel. We all had a shot of vodka to celebrate his departure, and in my 21-year-old naivete I asked him, “So, are you ever gonna come back?”
        “NEVER!” He laughed at me. And he never did.
        At this point I was still coming to terms with the idea that as you move through the world, people drift in and out of your life at random. Some people you feel a strong connection to are only around for a short while, and you never really know when the last time you're going to see someone might be. Goodbyes are such a rarity.
        So when English Aaron left that day, he knew in all his wisdom that we were probably never going to see each other again, because the connection we'd had just was what it was – we had our time together, united as we were by the flea-ridden pit that was the Melbourne Connection Backpackers Hostel on King Street. I hadn't yet learned to accept these things, so I was anxious to know when I'd see him again, because I didn't know how to say goodbye. No one really wants that big goodbye though: “Take care! So long! Good luck with your Life and Everything!”
        It's exhausting, who has the energy? So English Aaron told me the truth, but laughed to make it sound like a joke. He softened the blow.
        When he left that day I really did think he might be back someday, and maybe he did come back to Melbourne, but I never saw him in the hostel again. I know now that even if he had come back there, it wouldn't have been the same.

Click here to read the next part - Day 33 - August 9th