ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
Just as Marty Dalrymple rounded the bend into McAlister Street in the Old City District, he was delighted to see a parking spot right out the front of his favourite lunch spot.
“Fuck yeah,” he said quietly to himself.
But after nailing the park in one go, paying an extortionate amount of currency in the meter, his joy quickly turned to frustration.
Moments before the 26-year-old let out a very loud and inappropriate public F-bomb, scaring the daylights out of two elderly ladies enjoying their own lunch, Marty saw a caravan of office drones beat him into the Old City District Oyster Bar.
He briefly considered going somewhere else as the line would now take exponentially longer than what he planned it would, he sucked it up and joined the back of the line with our reporter.
“I just wanted to be in and out,” said Marty.
“Honestly, this is one of my favourite places in town to grab a bite to eat. I usually get 36 oysters Kilpatrick to go, I’d honestly recommend it,”
Our reporter told Marty that they had their eye on the Lake Eyre Rock Oyster tacos, to which Marty nodded his head and said that was also a great choice.
But the politely furious Gemini quickly tailed back to the problem at hand.
“Fuck office people. Safe harbour sailing cowards. Have a punt on yourself, for fuck’s sake. Free yourself from the Roger David handcuffs,” he said, loud enough for their ears to burn.
“Sorry, I don’t mean that. I’ve got friends that work in offices. I’m just so annoyed they fucking beat me here, now I’ll be here for ages!”
Marty clenched his fists in a rage and moaned for five or six seconds before coming back into lucid thought.
“It just pissed me off!”
Our reporter then opted to go to Red Rooster across the road.
More to come.