Thunder Down Under

He’s making a purchase, chatting, from Texas. Mutual acquaintances, blah blah blah. Hands me a badge. Texas Ranger. Indeed. He is. Or was. Retired. 

 

Gentleman, twenties perhaps, brings back (his dad?) to see our shop. Waiting in line, they are privy to my conversation with those ahead of them. Their turn. Dad, in a beautiful Australian accent, “I could listen to you talk all day.” (Most want me to shut it. Or the boss does, anyway.)

 

“I could listen to YOU talk all day.” His voice was truly lovely. 

 

“My son said I needed to come see this neat shop.”

 

We talk about the shop, Margaret Thatcher (Maggie Rose’s namesake), traveling, and Texas. I walk them to the door once their purchase is complete. 

 

Dad, “If you’re ever in Australia …”

 

Me, “Thunda down unda?” 

 

I’m mortified. What did I just say? And what, specifically, is Thunder Down Under? I’ve heard of it. Don’t know what, in particular, the thunder in Australia refers to. I google, after work. Slap my head. And then slap my head again. 

 

“Yes,” dad replies, “And Crocodile Dundee.”

 

Stereotypes. 

 

I liked Crocodile Dundee but had absolutely no clever come back after confusing myself with the weather in Australia. 

 

Also met two military guys from Australia, attending meetings in Idaho. I’d love to attend meetings with them. Interesting fellas. No Thunder Down Under mentioned, this time. Just a nifty little tidbit: Australia has the five most venomous snakes in the world. I’ll pass. Must be all the thunder. 

 

It’s been said Australians are some of the most interesting people in the world. Australians and Texans. Our guests bear this out today. 

 

Good ‘ol Wyoming. Never know who will walk in the door and entertain the staff. 

 

It’s a good life.