An onion. Just an onion. A brown onion. That was the request. A Friday night, dark, and cold, no car available. Had it come to this: cast out to trudge through the inky blackness, in the rain, at the mercy of Footscray’s cesspit of villains?
Nah. It wasn’t that bad.
I ensured my winter layers (jumper, jacket) were in place, then set off into the night. The blackness was far from inky, since the street lights were doing their thing. Not really that cold either, especially while walking, and though dark clouds may have threatened, it was not actually raining per se.
Just missed a tram. Not to worry, only about 10 minutes walk anyway. Went across a couple of streets, then ducked through the carpark, down an alleyway that the naysayers might assume that, because it was night and in Footscray, would be full of junkies or dealers or both. But it was empty. And devoid of litter.
Weaved through stopped traffic and down another street, the one dividing Forges of Footscray’s west and east buildings. Forges was still open, happy shoppers indulging in bargains. One couple came out of the door with a shopping trolley overflowing with said bargains, a couple of which did indeed overflow right onto the footpath. Thankfully nothing too delicate.
Found Coles. Found the onions in Coles. Found a non-squishy onion in Coles. Found the express check-out, which as is to be expected in most supermarkets these days, was running at far from an express speed. Check-out chick weighed the onion. 48 cents. Rounded to 50. Handed over 50 cent coin, proclaimed that I did not need or want a bag (for one onion, how stupid would that be?).
Departed supermarket with my onion and a receipt. Checked mobile phone for any missed calls requesting any other forgotten items to get while I was down there. None. Walked back. Just missed another tram. But I didn’t care. The night air into the lungs was nice, it was good to be stretching my legs, it wasn’t cold at all, and I knew the onion would be contributing to something great.
Which it did.