Cramming Into Osama’s Car for the City (Part 2)

Two Changes in Life

Saturday 9:50 p.m.

Today represents a twofold change in life, one of a beginning and one of an ending in which both are equally drawn out. The beginning is represented by Lyssa deciding to have called me tonight, the first time for a couple of weeks. Despite her trying to apply the notion that she can be stubborn, I am much more insensitive and stubborn in the event that I didn’t care to call her and was callously unmoved.

The fundamental ending that marks March 14th is the conclusion of Keith’s relationship with Lyssa. You know, it’s funny that yesterday should have fallen on such an important and historical date (Foreign of course to my immediate life) as when I was writing in this Diary I felt a strange connection with such a vibe. Somehow, last night I knew that it was an important date as I asked myself “Wait a minute, whose birthday lies on this day and if not, what importance has it once held”.

There you have it, a little to the left of the middle of the month, to the left of the year and now, just a little imbalanced with historical significance. However, these two events shall not tie up the majority of these pages I now write but rather, with my shoulder having sundered most of the pain formerly felt, I will now speak of the day and its chronology.

Osama’s Cousin and Mohammed

Picking up the pieces of my Friday night with the advent of Osama’s cousin and his Lebanese friend, Pari and I waited patiently out the front of the Cinemas as he drove his car to where we stood. Osama’s cousin to my understanding had the same name as me, Tony, his friend was ironically called Mohammed, like all other Lebanese. It’s either Mohammed or Abdul as a primary name or if you’re really lucky you could be called Abdul Mohammed to be true Lebanese borne.

As this favorable mind looks favorably upon detail I shall not stop without the fullest recollection of the night I can partake here. Away from the Cinemas, where there were beautiful girls walking past me we began driving, the three of us in Osama’s car and his cousin driving a Telstar with his friend as passenger. ‘Twas a shame to leave the Cinemas behind as there were a fair lot of beautiful girls, mostly Lebanese but a fair share of Australian Blondes with those evergreen eyes of theirs.

Who Is the Prude

While the three of us were sitting around and waiting for his cousin to arrive I adored the passing women and I could sense that they knew I was there, looking in their direction and adoring them but, they were too adamant to check me out. Sometimes I wonder who is prude and reserved when it comes to making contact with the opposite sex, me or them.

On one hand, I do check them out like there was no tomorrow but when it comes to approaching them I always fall short thinking to myself “What am I going to say, how will I start off the conversation, can I carry the conversation and say the right things”. I never think to myself “She doesn’t want me to approach her, I can see it in her eyes”.

On the other hand, women can see how much I am checking them out but decide to turn the other cheek and just adorn my adoring glance whilst they only grasp it with indefinite eye contact. I want women to approach me at least with their eyes like I do of them and I guess they just want me to walk up to them and win them with confidence but when it comes down to it, who really is the prudish dubiety.

Lebanese Driving Style

There was a mist of uncertainty as to where we were headed in our little car endeavors but I do know that Osama’s cousin reminded me of a pure Leb. Weaving through traffic, treating his worn down car like it was a racing car and showing his authority and making it known that he was Lebanese in the cutthroat detail of his driving.

Osama as his usual self would just plant his lead foot to the ground on many an occasion to catch up which I thought drew great parallels with his straight and strict-law life. Osama, for lack of better or more dignified expression, has a pole up his ass to keep him straight and his lead foot and naïve full-throttle or no-throttle driving was befitting of his character.

Squeezed Into Osama’s Car

The only clues we had been given to our night was that we were headed to the City and I was gratified to that news as I wanted so badly to get out of Campbelltown and into some action. However, when we came to a residential area in Canterbury I wasn’t too sure what we were going to end up doing. When the guy stopped his car and then Osama uttered “His parents are very, very strict”

I thought we were heading into his house and it wasn’t all too disappointing but I was disheartened to the thought that we wouldn’t hit the City streets. Despite these dreary beliefs, Osama’s cousin was only parking his car at home so the both of them could squash into Osama’s car, and that they did. The back seat had some leg space and as I got acquainted with the both of them and shook hands I opted to sit in the middle as both of them were taller than me. Thus, our journey began…

Osama drove as Pari sat in the front, myself and the other two sat in the back of the spotless Astina. As Osama was directed towards the City by his cousin he was also cautioned by how he was thrashing the car, again, in true Lebanese know-how. “Don’t give the car too much, you have to wear the cylinders in” Osama’s cousin noted as well as “You know, you should get extractors and a muffler for this car” obviously for the sake of speed.

His cousin as well as his friend had traditional Lebanese savoir-faire and it brought a smirk to my face at the classic lines shared by his descent. Reaching the City within twenty minutes whilst traveling through Balmain we crossed the Glebe Island Bridge and continued into the main portion of the City, looking for parking. This however didn’t take us too long as we found some parking near the back-streets of York Street and near the starting of Darling Harbors waters.

Bathroom Run and the Bouncer

Jumping out of the car as Osama’s cousin and Mohammed parked the car we made our way up to George Street where we were to meet them. Whilst walking to our destination it became very clear that I needed to get to the toilet, duly felt since the middle of our trip. Therefore, I headed into a bar while Pari and Osama waited out the front for me. My first impressions of this bar was of all the older generation sitting around inside but before I could take a good glance I was stopped mid-flight by the bouncer.

Looking more like a bodyguard or secret agent by having a little microphone wire running up to his ear I informed him that I was only there for the bathroom amenities. With a little of his ushering to shed my hat I done so and was on my way to a glorious displacement of bodily fluid. With immediate bodily danger out of the way I headed out of the bar and upon meeting with the others, we headed up to George Street which was right in front of us.

Gangs Near the Cinemas

Wondering what we were actually going to do in the City it was soon becoming clear to me that nothing more than the usual but with a different flavor would be done. Stopping to wait for the others at the Cinemas I heard Osama say that he still wanted to watch a movie. This brought a sigh to my mind’s wonders as I knew he would pay and I didn’t want to take his favoring, I didn’t want him to be the Godfather to me.

Whilst waiting we noticed the gangs who stand around this area breaking bottles at Taxis and verbally abusing people they passed. This didn’t phase me at all and despite their being in a hardened group of twenty (All in their groups) I didn’t hesitate to give a couple of them a stern and hard eye as I walked past. This normally would have been foolish to have done and I do get intimidated by certain people but despite this big group of thugs I could look upon them with the same tension as their malice I do relate with.

I didn’t look for trouble by continually eyeing them as they stood around but I only returned looks if I was given them as we walked past them to stand at the front of the Cinemas. My eyes never lowered and I found that save for a couple of them, the most of them did lower their eyes to me so, go figure.

Nobody Can Decide

Mohammed and Osama’s cousin called up on their mobile phone to ours and then within seconds we met up with each other. Now, for the next twenty minutes we stood around without a common desire all because Osama and Pari didn’t have any opinions because of their reserved nature. Mohammed and Osama’s cousin were popping out the informative questions and I was trying to agree with whatever idea I thought would best suit the night but we were being held up by the indecisiveness of both Pari and Osama whom were mostly prude.

Finally we agreed to watch a movie despite not agreeing upon what movie to watch. Nevertheless, neither of us wanted to wait an hour and a half for the midnight movie to start and with all other movies having already started we decided to move to the next cinema. There were three cinemas we checked out, one after the other and none of them had a movie playing within half an hour. For that reason we chose to walk George Street, in search of something to eat and as so decided by Osama, it would be a Restaurant.

Mistaking a Girl for Lyssa

Pacing our way to the crossing on George Street that led to Planet Hollywood and Macdonald’s I looked across to that very monument and my envious fury began to race as I thought I had seen Lyssa talking to two guys. Despite this blonde (Who was wearing the same sort of black clothing that Lyssa would wear) being a tad taller than Lyssa and having a lady friend whom I did not recognize, I thought to believe that this was indeed Lyssa being chatted up by two guys.

There I stood, staring as I could see Osama looking at me from the corner of my eye, seeing the hostile choler in my eyes. The feeling was one of wanting to head over there and tear the two guys up and her for being a part of it. However, another part knew that if it was her to turn around and see me, I would just wave abhorrently and be on my way with bad thoughts and empty feelings for the night.

My eyes were glued to this lady for the ten minutes we stood around and she chatted with these guys until she finally turned around and headed down the street. It wasn’t Lyssa but that didn’t release the animosity felt within. No, rather, it fueled thought sporadically through the night in which I weighed the ferocity of seeing Lyssa in that situation as opposed to Jewell, or worse, getting onto someone.

Envy Over Lyssa and Jewell

In the case of Lyssa, I feel that I have proved how I would react if I had seen her chatting flirtatiously with some other guy and if she were to be getting onto someone, multiply that feeling by one hundred. The reason I would be so envious of Lyssa being intimate with someone else and me witnessing it would be because I have been with and shared so much with Lyssa over the past few years.

We have created a loving bond and have been through a fair ordeal of good and bad and through it all, we have still maintained a dubious but realistic esteem. Howeverso, despite living all but the more intimate sensations with Jewell, I feel those extra tethers to love caused the relief of what care I would have in such a situation. Despite my having been so mentally and physically infatuated with Jewell, if I had seen her in the hands of another man I wouldn’t show too much choleric envy.

Rather, I would most probably walk up and pat the guy on the back for doing a better job at winning her love than myself and from there, without resentment and a sincere beam from my lips, I would depart without so much as a shrug or a look back over my shoulders. Now, if I were to have been more intimate on top of what I have already experienced with Jewell there would be no doubt that I would be fighting off all the looks and fantasies directed her way.