Probably not a good idea to get glared at by a skin head

To be fair, he very well could have been a wannabe skin head: blonde buzz cut, baby blue eyes, probably showered that morning but didn't look like it. Who can know? Far be it from me to judge.

Now anyone who's spoken to me at length about homophobia and racism will have undoubtedly heard of my own experiences walking down a street, no matter the country. I am quite aware of the intolerance that abounds in society, and I have been known to go on about the potential aggression behind the stares and glares I meet every day. But I also seem to forget specific examples, choosing instead to lump them into some kind of generic "I get stared at every day."

I have a feeling I'll remember this one.

I was walking down the street, as I'm wont to do on the weekend and during every other part of the week for that matter, in Kings Cross on my way to get a bottle of Pinot Grigio. I was stopped at a red light standing at what they call here the Cross, the intersection at the top of William St. and Kings Cross Rd. On the other side of the street was the guy I've just described.

The light turned green and we both stepped off our respective curbs. As we approached the middle of the intersection, our eyes met. Locked would be a good word, too. He wasn't looking away, probably because he wanted to intimidate me as best he could. And I didn't look away, at first, because I didn't want him to think I gave a shit. But I was bored of being the object of his stupid "I'm going to kill you game" that he played with his eyes, so I unlocked mine from his and began looking at his clothes. A quick up and down, which I'm sure he saw under the bill of my Von Dutch cap.

When I finished scanning him, I looked back up one last time. His eyes. He was angry. And as we got closer, the daylight probably the only thing keeping me safe, his eyelids seemed to clench. Can eyelids clench? A substitution, perhaps, for his fists. And we passed right next to each other.

I've now lived in three major cities: LA, NY, and Sydney. Never before have I felt as out of place as I do here. And that is saying a lot, given the fact that no matter where I go I am along with scores of others, because we live in a heterosexual society, out of place. (Or was this a race or gender thing? All of the above?) I had this bright idea last week to find the smallest Outback town and stay there for a week by myself. Do a little sociological experiment. This despite my experiences here. Since this afternoon I have begun to reconsider that idea.

I happened to be in a decent mood, so I'm not feeling particularly angry about the situation. Aware of the danger I put myself in if I were to walk outside at night by myself, however, is what I am. I rarely give any attention to the person post look. I trust my instincts and much more often than not I don't feel threatened. But this time I imagined being caught off guard with a blow to the head or something worse. So I turned around a couple of times in the minutes after our encounter just to make sure he wasn't watching me.

I bought the wine -- a bottle from Tasmania. I'd like to see Tasmania someday. Though I suspect it's just a series of small towns. Can't be any worse than the big town I live in now.