Sorry

I’m on exchange in Sydney, Australia. After spending a week off on the west coast, I land in Sydney at six in the morning. I rush to my accommodation to shower. If I can smell myself, I know it’s bad.

After quickly washing and packing my bag, I run to catch the train. My haste is interrupted when I spot five grazing kangaroos in the distance. One of them has a young in its pouch. Staring with my mouth half-open, I decide I’ll just take the next train.

The political philosophy class has been going on for ten minutes when I arrive. During this class, it is always the same student who has at least five questions or comments. In my notebook, I count how many times she uses the word ‘like’.

“Like, it’s just like, you know how like, sometimes like…”

I’ve counted 31 so far. On the next page, I count how often the teacher apologises. I get to seven when he says sorry for the small, for some hard-to-read letters on the slides. I take a sip of filtered Australian drinking water. The mildly disgusting taste makes my head shake.

“Did I say something wrong, Onno?”, the teacher asks.

“No you didn’t.”

“Oh okay, I misread your body language then, my apologies.”

As he continues his explanation, I Google what interesting things I can do or see in Sydney this weekend. TripAdvisor highly recommends the Opera House. The four hours of sleep kicks in as I doze off and startle awake again several times in a row.

The next slide says that it’s time for a break. The teacher confirms this and gently slaps the projection screen.

“I shouldn’t have done that, sorry.”

When I go to get some more gross water, the teacher asks if I’m okay.

“Yes I am, I flew here from Perth last night so I’ve had very little sleep.”

“Perth, how nice! Did you check out the quokkas on Rottnest Island?”

“No, I didn’t have time for that unfortunately.”

“Oh yeah, no, you’re right, way too touristy, sorry.”