The Augustus Gloop in us all

I just read a report that Kevin Rudd described this morning's bombing as "an attack on us all".

Us all?

Stop exaggerating, Kevin. This is not an attack on us all. Because all cannot afford to stay in a 5 star hotel.

It is more accurate to call it an attack on us, the lucky few. I am writing this from my 5 star hotel room so I should know.

At this point I recalled the doughnut crumb I found stuck to my chin this morning.

I was in the bathroom at work, washing my hands, and noticed it on my chin. It was already 11:30am so this fucking crumb must have been sitting there on my fucking chin for quite some fucking time. It is my first day in Indonesia and I wanted to make a good impression with my new Jakarta colleagues. We both did..

Crumb must have been with me in the lobby. It must have clinged on tightly as I climbed into the cab. It was still there when I arrived to the office. Stayed with me as I was introduced to many new colleagues. 

It also means that we (Crumb and I) attended 2 meetings together. We gave quite constructive input on a couple of issues. At one point we walked to the whiteboard, drew some boxes and linked them up with arrows. We then stayed standing there while we finished the discussion, so we could see everyone at all times. And everyone could see us at all times. Crumb and me.

Crumb had wedged himself impossibly onto the middle of my chin, using icing sugar as some kind of mortar. So in the 4 hours during and after breakfast, why had no one mentioned this to me? Perhaps:

- they thought he was a mutant pimple. (Oh, but I hope not.)

- they didn't notice. (Oh, but how could they not?)

- they knew he was a crumb and didn't care. (Oh, but how could they not say anything?)

I looked in the bathroom mirror plucked it off my chin for closer inspection. I reminisced about the sumptuous breakfast buffet at the Shangri-La Jakarta ...

Before entering my world, this crumb was a member of a breakfast troupe. He was attached to a beautifully cooked miniature doughnut, which was in turn balanced atop a mini doughnut pyramid. This is one of many pastry pyramids which, I imagined, had been built in the wee hours of the morning by noble yet humble people with white hats on their heads and flour on their cheeks.

These pyramids formed part of longer, wider, bakery row which I call the Calorie Counter - a tubby contranym.

At the Shangri-La you find many other breakfast offerings woven within and around this buffet.

Lines of omelettes are cooked to order alongside fruit juices, cheeses, cereals, yoghurts, congee and other noodley delights. Each has been carefully chosen, beautifully prepared and carefully positioned for maximum appeal. Many items are positioned atop ceramic podiums; posing, like hookers for fat people.

We (the lucky few) wander around the room like disoriented tourists, holding large white plates as our guide books.

This morning, 2 km away from my buffet but in a similar breakfast room, someone walked in with backpack, pulled the cord and blew up the room. While no one has come forward yet I suspect that Jenny Craig is somehow involved.

It was not easy to get this crumb onto my chin. I needed a good job and a travel budget which included a nice hotel (breakfast included). I needed a large white plate and a sense of disoriented purpose.

I have never seen a fresh doughnut crumb on the chin of a cleaner, or a taxi driver, or a homeless person. The homeless often have something stuck on their chins, but it's usually not fresh and certainly not from a doughnut. It's more likely to be dry saliva masquerading as food. This doesn't make them a lesser person. It just makes them a poorer person. Just enough lesser to be poorer.

So think about that for a moment, Kevin.

Us all my arse.