Mr Bali Ash Cloud

Two weeks ago Bryan had a YOLO moment after too many cans of bourbon and booked a trip to Bali. Giving late notice to his employer and disregarding his dwindling finances has become typical of Bryan’s unique brand of “she’ll be right” adulthood. A take-no-responsibility approach to life that so often leaves him aggrieved by the slings and arrows of foreseeable fortune. His Nasi Goreng stained passport is stamped with the fuckwitery of generational bogan entitlement, and now he is absolutely spewin’ about the #ashcloud.

Bryan has been stranded in Bali for the past 3 days. His hangover is being compounded by angry texts from his boss and also the fact he has Sky-Garden’d himself every night for the past week. As he listens to Jetstar’s on-hold announcements, his mind drifts to the highlight of the trip so far: pissing on that Frenchie outside of Potato Head. He turns to his anxious missus who is awaiting an ash cloud-related update, “fucking, pissed in his mouth a bit too ay ha ha”. Finally, he gets through to a Jetstar representative, “oi nah yous listen to me, this isn’t good enough, I paid good money for me flights, and yous is gonna get me farking fired, cant yous cunts do anything right?”

Unprepared to sleep in the bed he has made for himself, Bryan jumps on Facebook to publicly blame everyone who is at fault for his predicament. “Stuck in BALI! Jetstar won’t TELL US ANYTHIN PAYIGN CUSTONERS!!! fuck, ok lol, probs lose job cos boss rekon it’’s my fault (lol fuak off)… still getin magget tho. I,;f not sorted soon wlli be sueing..!!!.1 dunno wat an ashcloud is but rekon other airlin fly thru em, so the fuck?!” Bryan clicks post and then continues to dwell in a grotty puddle of his own self pity.

Bryan knows that some ice cold Bintangs and McDonald’s delivery will cure what ails him. Predictably, he hasn’t checked his bank balance all week because he is not one to concern himself with holiday budgeting or any of that “gay shit”. He checks his ATM receipt, “$15.89”. The humble figure shocks the Southern Cross right off his chest, and he frantically tries to figure out who is to blame for his fiscal irresponsibility. He is suddenly struck with a neck-tatted epiphany, “I’m outta money cos Jetstar are a bloody joke!” He spends his remaining $15 on Bintang and gets his missus to fork out for a taxi to the airport so that he can give Jetstar a piece of his devolved mind.

The waiting area looks like a pen of hungover gorillas that have recently learnt how to crack an iPhone screen with relentless finger-bashery. Bryan proves he is the king of the ape-ship brigade by approaching the desk and alternating between talking over the girl aggressively and obscure bursts of profanities. “I’M BROKE AND GONNA LOSE ME JOB COS OF YOUS, LEARN HOW TO RUN A FUCKING AIRLINE!!”.

Before the spittle from his slack-jawed mouth lands on the small Indonesian staff member, a group of Bintang-clad men applaud Bryan’s eloquence in the face of disaster. “Fuck oath, cunt! You tell em!”

Sorry Bali.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?


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