After weeks by the beach I’m super calm, overly meditated and ready for some city energy. Transition is a funny thing and I quite like that small window where I arrive in Melbourne’s mayhem in my own little private bubble of quiet, distanced observation of the human race.

Melbourne’s seasonal weather tousle is taking place. It’s touching winter, but mild temperatures stubbornly persist and sunlight refuses to be intimidated by cloud cover. People move with purpose and I dodge the phone addicts who refuse to look up from their screens. I drink amazing coffee in packed cafes full of smartly dressed, grey haired women and men wearing peaked caps, smart suits and overcoats. A fashionista nod to the Peaky Blinders. The comparison stops there.

After a few hours of cruising bookshops, walking laneways and soaking in city energy I wait at the tram stop to take me back to my city flat. Flashing signs give tram updates. The no 67 is due in 7 minutes, not long to wait. A busker hits the high notes on the street corner and soon he’s joined by a group of kids- all studs and attitude. Teenagers scouring the city for their identity. Green hair, pierced nipples and noses, carting huge plastic bags full of stuff. They’re loud, ratty, loose and join in the singing. I move a little further up the platform as my tram arrives.

Unusually, there are plenty of seats and I settle into the front of the tram with my shopping and handbag on the seat next to me. Opposite sits a well dressed older man reading. He gives a slight nod to acknowledge my arrival. A fellow member of the older person’s tribe. The doors close and as we’re just about to head off. Suddenly,  the doors open again and  a streak of sunlight catches the glint of metal, green hair and a cacophony of sounds is unleashed. ” Fuck we made it. Nearly didn’t. Did ya get me fuckin’ drink ya idiot………”

Enormous bags are hoisted along the tram floor. Bodies bend, twist, move. They are on the floor, swinging off the handrails, doing pushups, falling over each other. Voices shout, swear and curse. She is cursing a friend who is selfish and demanding. He has his own preoccupations and yells “Yeh, Fuckin friends. She’s a C…” I sit and try not to react to this insanity. In the maelstrom I make out there are only 2 of them. She with green hair, pasty, rake thin with face piercings. I pretend not to stare but my monkey brain wonders how on earth she manages to eat a pie with all that nose and lip furniture.

He has pin wheel eye balls and unruly hair, sweat dripping down his face as he unloads layers of clothing into his oversized plastic bags. Reduced to a ripped t-shirt with nipple rings protruding, he smiles at me and says ” Ah sorry for the language but that feels fuckin’ brilliant.” She is in her own world of wardrobe rejigging and supplements her t-shirt with a leopard print short cardigan. ” Does that look awright?”  He stops moving for a moment and offers his bandana to complete the look.  “Fuckin’ ace Ren. Ya look fuckin’ ace.”

Momentary attention turns to me. ” Ah sorry miss, but I just got a job at the servo and we’ve been celebratin’ a bit much. I’ll get off the drugs now and settle down so I can get my kid back.” he says. I really don’t know what to say but something reaches deep into the sad absurdity of this situation.

“Oh congratulations.” I say as he rummages distractedly in one of his many bags for a bottle of water and Ren practices dance moves as she listens to douf douf on her headphones.

He reaches across to shake my hand, the picture of propriety. ” Shane’s my name.”

Ren launches forward with a sentence I’ll never forget… ” Don’t Shane, the lady probably doesn’t want to shake your hand.”

I stretch out my hand and shake Shane’s bony, dry hand and say. ” Great to meet you Shane. So great about your job.” Ren gives me the biggest smile as her lip studs seem to travel across her damp, thin face. She sits down for a moment. We’re just human beings caught in a moment. The older man sitting opposite, a witness to the mayhem smiles thinly. But it is momentary. Ren suddenly realises they’ve gone past their stop..meeting mates in St Kilda to celebrate.  ” Ah fuck, we’ll have to walk..”

Suddenly bags are flying, limbs are loose.” See ya.” As the tram pulls away I look back at these kids dragging their home in plastic bags.

I replay this encounter many times. I remember my fears spinning macabre stories  of what will happen next. They were unpredictable, high as kites. They could steal my bag propped next to me. What if they have knives…blah blah…..Then, I think of the chaos of their lives. Where do they sleep/eat/wash? What of Shane’s child and the life that lays before him? How on earth do people come back from addiction, homelessness and the chaos of their lives? And yet they do. With the right support people do turn their lives around.

We are all at some point in our lives one job loss, one mental health crisis, one accident, one bad partner away from this sort of chaos.

But today one moment of human dignity and acceptance is a smile on their world weary faces. It’s also a gift to me, a reminder to look beyond the studs and swearing and find the human beings inside.