Who Needs Rescuing?

Calling Tommy Gavin ascorbic was like saying John Wayne was a cowboy. It went much deeper than that.

From the moment he stepped off the plane in Sydney he felt as if his life had ended and he was on some unmentioned level of Dante’s inferno. It was hot. Hotter than Brooklyn in July when they hydrants were all opened and flooding Bed-Sty like some dam broke above the cement jungle. Nothing ever cooled down; it all just steamed up the big bowl of tall buildings which were full of insignificant rat racers.

He had to face it, it was either this job teaching fire fighting at the Glen, or he’d be on terminal leave. His burnout was fueled by a number of things but it all started after 9/11 and it steamrolled with every drink he took. He couldn’t remember what water tasted like but he could describe bourbon like Gordon Ramsey would do so with a succulent minted lamb chop.

This little shit hole of town he was heading for had a one horse fire house with no hopes of giving him any more excitement than lunch at Papaya dog did. Tommy was having second thoughts about this gig. When he stepped from the terminal to the cab that would take him to the airport hotel, the humidity hit him like a salvage sheet. Wet and heavy was the operative phrase. It was more salt in the wounds he bore.

One night in this faggoty burg and he’d be off to find out what the Glen was like. Thank God for that because he didn’t think he could take much of these tree hugging, beer swilling, holier than thou turds with their funny accents and their zinc oxide covered noses.

"Where you goin’, Mate?" the cab driver asked as Tommy stepped into the car. He looked in the rear view mirror at the man.

"To hell in a handbag, buddy." Tommy spat, just because he was an asshole.

The cab driver laughed a bit as he set the meter. "Last time I checked this was Hyundai. If you wanna hand basket, mate I could check with Legion cabs."

"Okay, smartass just drive. Mercure Hotel. Fuck’s sake even the hotel sounds fucking toxic."

"Alright , mate. I can tell you’re gonna enjoy your stay in Australia. If you get a chance, make sure you stop by Harry’s and try a meat pie. They’re bonzer."

"Great. You just mentioned meat and boner in one sentence, pal Tell me I didn’t land on Fire Island."

Tommy was going to be a real asset to the Glen. The emphasis would be on the ass part.

TBC