How I narrowly missed getting punched in the face by a bogan.

Not a lot of things surprise me anymore. I say that from a jaded, cynical point of view of a 28-year-old shut-in who detests most of the things outside the comfortable doors of her close surroundings. (Almost poetic, isn’t it?!) I hate crowds, I hate rude people, I hate walking behind people who stop in the middle of the walk-way, I dream of a time where I could punch everyone who annoys me square in the face without consequence… But while that would be the sweetest thing ever, the thing or collective community of people that I detest the most are bogans.

This little black spot on society threatens my constant and overinflated sense of safety as I know it. For some reason, and no, I don’t know why – but I discovered just as recent as this past week, that bogans are a constantly defensive and paranoid people – even in a situation where there is no need.

Let me tell you a story.

It was last Saturday morning. I live around 1hr and 10 minutes from the Melbourne metropolitan train line, thus I have to take a special service called Vline to my rural stop. There are lots of pluses about being on a Vline service, but unfortunately it seems that the minuses far outweigh the good – let’s change the word minus to bogan. Bogans, without fail, ruin my train experience. Every, single, time.

I was surprised by how busy the train was on this early Saturday morning service, considering that bogans don’t usually wake til around noon (perhaps there was a special on Bundy & Coke or Holden paraphernalia that morning), but never-the-less, I managed to find a double seat all to myself. I plugged my earphones in to my Iphone 4S (yes, I’m a fat cat) and clutched tightly to my worldly possessions and looked out the window minding my own business while pleasing my ears with the Official Broadway Soundtrack of Wicked. Yep, already I reek of snobbery, I know.

I was actually really quite enjoying the train trip and managed to get a good fifty or so pages in of the current book that I am reading. As the trip neared to an end, I needed to organise for someone to pick me up from the station. We were nearing to one, and as I’d been reading I had lost track of the train’s location. I happened to look up in the direction of the digital monitor that displays the next stop. I came eye-to-eye with a young girl, who looked around my age (shut up and stop laughing at my use of the term ‘young girl’ married with ‘my age’). She was standing in the way of my view of the monitor, but I quickly had figured out I was at least a stop or two from my destination, so I looked away and back to my book.

Let me be clear. I did not look at her with any nastiness; I did not change my expression to disgust to find she was blocking my view. I simply looked up, saw she was standing waiting to get off the next stop and just as simply looked away again. The whole incident lasted probably about 2 seconds.

I was still blasting my music, “Nessa… Dr Dillamond… Fiyero…. Fiiiiiiyeeeeeroooooooo!” That type of thing… you understand. I thought I could hear someone carrying on, and it just so happened that the song was changing.

In the silence between songs, I could hear a commotion of the bogan persuasion. This is not unusual on a Vline, but like a car wreck, it’s hard not to look up. When I did, I saw that same woman who was in my view glaring at me, changing from a normal, centered-looking woman to an aggressive, defensive monster.

All I could see was her mouth going and a voice that didn’t look as though it belonged to her, going off. I was confused and I hadn’t registered that she was speaking – nay—yelling at me.

It wasn’t til I looked to my seatmates on the opposite side of the train to see that they were looking at me with horror that I realised she was speaking to me. I took my ear bud out and looked back at her. I am the type of person who cannot hide my feelings on my face. If I don’t like you, you’ll know it. If you amuse me, I can’t help but to laugh. If I am being a smart arse, I get a certain look of superiority and smugness happening. That’s me.

I must have had that smug and half-amused expression on my face.

Now, part of my own issue is that sometimes I seem to forget that I am a weigh 58kgs and am only 4ft9. (130lbs around about and 148cm!) … And just because I feel mighty, doesn’t mean it will stop some paranoid bogan from punching my head at some stage because I don’t know how to shut up. However, my past dictates that I let far too many bogans and losers speak to me and treat me like rubbish, and so now I am the polar opposite. I have no time for silliness or for someone trying to pick a fight with me.

I said to her, “Sorry, what?”

And she went off. “I said, what the f*ck do you think you’re lookin’ at?” in a voice that could only be compared with one of the chicks from this video here. (Warning: SO much bad language in this video). I’m not even kidding, this is almost exact to how she sounded.

I laughed inappropriately and said, “Are you kidding?”

And she let out another bunch of expletives. I’m sure she said she’d “smash the f*ck” out of me, or something. And if I know bogans like I think I do, they’re mostly all piss and wind. I rolled my eyes at her. I remained calm and still amused the whole time.

I told her to calm down, I explained that regardless of how lovely a thought it would be to think that I was staring at her, I was just looking to see the next train stop.

She continued to carry on and to be honest, her swearing just seemed to bury whatever accusation she was making against me and I’d had enough.

I sighed and shook my head. I gave a slight laugh and put my ear bud back in and resolved the issue with, “For goodness sakes, … just piss off.”

Her train stopped and I could hear her carrying on all the way down to the train exit and as she got off and on to the platform and I could still see her as she walked past my side of the train looking at me with her narrowed, shifty and accusing eyes swearing and calling me all of the abusive names under the sun.

My across-the-way seatmates were laughing uncomfortably and shaking their heads in disgust and offered to me that they hadn’t seen me even look up at her and that she was clearly crazy.

But no, my friends, this is just the normal wrath of a bogan on a vline train service.

So… I propose that Vline ban all bogans from boarding their services lest they ruin the experience for those of us who are not paranoid about other people looking at us, talking about them, or generally doing anything while minding our own businesses.