Running late to the city vs country debate

Anywho, it’s Saturday night in Melbourne and I’m running late while trying to get to somewhere in Brunswick from my parents’ place in the outer east. Sydney Rd: an almost impossible place to get to in a hurry.

It was the first time I’d tried to make such a journey without driving in a long while, and had given myself enough time for the train to get to Melbourne and the tram to — was it Fitzroy?

I hadn’t actually left time to wait for those modes of transport to rock up, or time for me to walk between the tram and the train, or time for me to run after the tram I wanted to catch and watch as the door shut in front of me.

Somewhere between staring into the eyes of the man who watched me sprint to the tram without holding it up for three seconds and texting my friends to say I would be later than my revised late time, I think large parts of what separates the city and the country snapped into focus.

First, I’ve become the master of my transportation destiny. After five years in the country, I’m now used to getting in the car and going.

Aside from accidents stopping traffic, the only person I have to blame for being late is myself. Adding in extenuating factors — say, waiting 15 minutes for a train — is evidently something I no longer consider.

Part of it is because in the country, by and large, if you’re not going to do it, it won’t get done. We rely less on other people generally, and far, far less on government services such as public transport (because we have less of it), so we learn to be self-reliant.

I’ve learnt not to rely on public transport. Readjusting to using it was more of an issue than I expected.

Second, when we do need help, we rely on other people — often strangers. I’ve done a million stories on people who have donated lots of money or organised events to help people in need.

The world is a thankless place, but in the country you tend to give a helping hand to people in your community because you never know when you’ll see them next — at the supermarket or in town or at sporting grounds.

In the city, odds are you’re never seeing that person again.

I think I’m now a country person, despite it going against most of my vibe. Most country people won’t see it, but city people do.

The only person in Melbourne who doesn’t think I’m now a country bumpkin is my mum, and that’s because she wants me to move back to Melbourne (hi Mum!), and the only people in the country who don’t see me as an out-and-out city slicker are the people who have a vested interest in me staying in said country (hi my boss!).

Do I have to commit to one or the other? Eh, I’ll do it later.