FLAG DAY

It was Flag Day

so we wrapped ourselves in our flags

and went to the pub.

What a jape! What a crack-up!

We were hilarious!

Everybody else had the same idea, but.

Those bastards.

All the flags were the same

because we are all Flaglanders.

It would have been nice to wrap myself

in the flag of difference

or – here’s a thought – indifference

but I was too scared.

I like my teeth in my mouth.

I like my eye brown, not black.

Everyone at the pub looked the same.

The fun idea had become

A Sad Party Thing.

It doesn’t matter.

The flag unites us.

Our fear of looking different unites us.

All eyes are wary on Flag Day.

Everyone smiles with their mouths

as they lift their beers,

but all those eyes are looking about.

And those eyes are quick.

My oath.

My fucken oath.

You don’t want to stand out.

Not on Flag Day.

Do the Right Thing.

Say the Right Thing.

Think the Right Thing – it makes the other two easier.

There are no excuses.

It is not “I pay my taxes” day.

It is not “I am a human being, I have rights” day.

It is fucking Flag Day.

Alright?

You sad party thing.

….

Many many years ago I was pushing a pram on Australia Day in Sydney, along the Darling Harbour foreshore. It had been a nice day out, the kids had a good time, but they were young, and the sun had tired all of us. Now we just wanted to get home. No doubt I did not have the right look upon my face. I was not suitably embracing the patriotic fervour.

Two young women stepped up to me, in bikini tops bearing the Australian flag, holding beers in their hand. They would fix me!

“Smile!” one of them commanded. “It’s Australia Day”.

My tiredness provoked me. It also slowed me. I didn’t quite get the cutting comment out. Then I noticed them, lurking behind in the shadow of some (appropriately Australian native) bushes. Burly blokes in singlets, obviously with the girls. Sharks waiting.

As I paused, my wife, slowed by our toddlers, caught up. The words died in my mouth. We ignored them and kept walking.

I have little doubt that later in the day, charged by a few more beers, the sharks would not even have needed the excuse of someone backchatting the young women. It would have been on, regardless.

Australia Day.

Happy.