TRAVEL | AMERICA
Never Take Your Cousin Anywhere!
One would think growing up with a cousin and becoming close is a great thing and it is!
This however has its challenges when you have a cousin like mine. I love my cousin but for lack of a better term, he is “a fuckwit” (quote almost every person who knows him). My cousin and I were very close as kids playing footy for hours on end at the park between our houses. We grew up in housing commission and didn’t have much but we definitely had enough. All these games of footy created a real competitive nature between us. I would win more often than not because I am three years his senior and he is practically a tall dwarf.
This competitive nature strengthened once we reconnected after he turned 18 and was living with friends of mine in a place we called “the kennel”. This competition pushed the boundaries of sport and found its way into drinking and then further into the consumption of copious amounts of illegal drugs.
We weren’t bad people just young men having a good time. These good times had us venture to the mighty United States of America. We booked a trip for 52 days, only 14 of which we booked accommodation. We thought we would find our way once we got there which we did most of the time. From sleeping in sheets covered in blood to the roof of our motel caving in from water damage, it was at times a literal nightmare. Countless stories have come from this one adventure and I will share more if inspiration hits.
A nightmare came to life one evening in Tallahassee. We had gone out to find a place to have a few drinks with the locals and chill as we had a great day on the golf course and wanted to wind down the evening in style. Note this was a Tuesday in a predominantly college town so it was rather quiet on the southeastern front. We managed to stumble upon a pool hall that was open and ready to serve anyone by the looks of the place. We arrived fairly early around 6 pm to whatever table our hearts desired. We took up residence around the middle of the hall and went to grab some drinks. To our amazement, you could buy a bucket of vodka and Red Bull for $25US. A bucket — remember this a fucking bucket. We had hit the gold mine.
After a few games of pool and chipping away at the bucket, the local student population started to filter in. Having Australian accents in a place like this had targets on us from the start and we quickly became the table to be at. Now with buckets only costing $25US and my liberal nature with money once inebriated, we were even more popular with the locals. After the initial bucket each, we started the all too familiar conversation “should we get a bag?” A bag being slang for cocaine. After very little prodding we were off in search like Dora the Explorer.
My cousin who has a nose like a bloodhound for a bad situation found who I thought to be a lovely young African-American gentleman who could assist us with our needs for the devil’s dandruff. After many lines and shit talk, the night was coming to a close. This is usually the point my cousin becomes a pest and like clockwork — bang — he was in full pest mode. He was after anything else this guy could get for us. He managed to obtain some “molly blunts”. These are joints containing marijuana and MDMA.
As the conversations continued, I could feel a change in the air similar to Will in Stranger Things. I asked my cousin if he was ready to go to which I got the usual reply, “Nah, I’m staying”. This went back and forth for longer than I could take and told him, “I’m going now, come with me or fight your own battles.” He gave me the reply I thought I would get, “You’re a pussy.”
I ventured home through the never-ending carparks to the hotel. I found the room, had the best shower of my life, and climbed into bed. Around half an hour later my phone rang. “Come downstairs and get me. He has followed me back to the hotel.” There was genuine panic in his voice so I shot out of the room to look for my fuckwit of a cousin. I found him running up the stairs struck with fear. “He has followed me back. He wants money.”
I said, “What the fuck did you do?”
“I asked for more drugs but I don’t want them.”
I very forcefully informed my cousin to get in the room and I would handle it.
I went downstairs to see this gentleman waiting at the front door of the hotel. I asked the hotel patron, “Whatever you do, don’t let this man in.” I dare say he could hear the fear in the tone of my voice. I made my way out the front to see what, if anything, I could do to calm the storm that had made my cousin shake like a dog shitting razor blades. “I want my money! He wants drugs and they are here.”
My retort wasn’t strong “Sorry mate, he doesn’t want them anymore.”
“See that black escalade. They have the shit and they are coming down.” At this point, I had never been more scared in my life of being murdered. Fight or flight had fully kicked in and my limbic system stupidly chose fight.
“Listen fucking here cunt, we don’t want your fucking drugs, fuck off or I will fucking smash you.” I didn’t even raise my voice to utter this sentence and somehow by God’s good grace, a slight look of fear came across the gentleman’s face. “Okay man, all good, it’s off.”
I walked back inside trying to hide the fact I had almost shit myself. Straight to our room. I found my cousin on Facetime to his girlfriend like nothing had even happened.
“Get here you fuckwit.” I grabbed him by the shirt and with every fibre of my being, I refrained from knocking him out. Never take your cousin anywhere!
Especially when they’re a fuckwit.
