Bleeding Red, White, and Blue

UNCLE SAM: You wouldn't like him when he is angry.

Its an old joke: Do they have July 4th in other countries? To which the answer is: Of course they do, everyone has a fourth of July. It is a dated, lame, and generally groan-worthy joke, but like all humor there is a bit of truth to it. Wherever you are in the world, you will at some point come across the calendar date of July, 4 (or 4-July as they write here.) However, to most that is all this day represents, just another day on the calendar. So maybe you are beginning to see my dilemma.

So, while everyone back home was celebrating Independence Day, I was left feeling somewhat wanting. Maybe it was the lack of American flags or just the general malaise of traveling, but one cannot help but be a little homesick at such times. You find yourself thinking of family and friends, and all the barbecues, fireworks, pool parties, and Will Smith-related movies you will not be partaking in. However, I was determined not to let my geographical distance from the land of the home and the brave damper my celebratory spirit. I was determined to honor the birth of my home country here in my adopted country. I assumed I could at least find something. After all, the Aussies actually find it entertaining to have American themed costume parties. They dress up as everything from Uncle Sam to Derek Jeter. (Its an odd sort of moment when you learn that your country has become a theme, but I guess that just means I know how Mexico feels now,) but it seemed to promise that there would be at least some sort of festivities for me to latch onto.

I was very wrong. I spent my 4th of July in Brisbane, and surprisingly I found my options dauntingly limited. I could find no pub, bar, restaurant, or establishment that even had the hint of a drink special, let alone a full-blown celebration. My search for American parties on the Internet also turned up nothing. I even looked into trying to throw an American style BBQ at the hostel, but with burgers pricing out at about six-dollars a patty and hot dogs a rare commodity, that idea was shut down by my limited cash flow. So I was left with last resort of all desperate men... blind dumb luck.

Flash forward to July 3rd. Dressed in my Team USA Soccer jersey I set out from my hostel in the morning on a beautiful Brisbane day to walk the Story Bridge. (A large bridge that you have never heard of, but don't tell that to anyone in Brisbane. They will get insulted.) While walking I was lost in my own typical weird and indescribably disturbing thoughts. I watched the expansive Brisbane River pass below, but it was when I reached the far bank that I really stood up and took notice. Two flags were flying proudly in a small park on the river's edge. The familiar Southern Cross flapped openly in the wind, but it was accompanied very proudly by the Star Spangled Banner. I found myself drawn to it like a horse to some kind of patriotic water. What I discovered was a group of families and the elderly speaking a long forgotten tongue, American.

"If our Founding Fathers wanted us to care about the
rest of the world, they wouldn't have declared their
independence from it." -Stephen Colbert

Apparently, I had inadvertently crashed, the annual Fourth of July Picnic for the Australian-American Association. I didn't even know there was such a thing as the Australian-American Association. Apparently,it is a society set up to strengthen ties between American and Australia and as a refuge for American ex-pats. Apparently, among their annual celebrations is American Independence, which I had so blindly stumbled into. So even though it wasn't quite the crowd of people I had been originally looking for, (there was no one older than 10 or younger than 35) I still felt accomplished in finding a group of like-minded individuals for me to mingle with.

Still, on the dawning of July 4th, (which was still technically July 3rd in America) I still felt as if I should do something more to mark such an auspicious day. So in my wanderings around the city, I found myself trying to think of something worthwhile to do to commemorate the birth of my country. It was about then that a strange (and corny) idea occurred to me. Maybe I could honor America by doing something worthwhile for the people of Australia. After all, all over the globe there are Americans doing their best to make this a better world. Heck, we have brave men and women fighting for freedom in the Middle-East, the least I could do was maybe volunteer at a soup kitchen or something for the day.

The idea was really starting to sound better and better when suddenly I found myself in the downtown part of the city. I looked up and there was a sign that read "Red Cross Blood Donor Center." Part of my brain went: That's it. It's perfect, and think of the Blog title. The more rational part of me sort of froze in abject horror. I knew that my feet had not brought me to those doors by mere chance, but that didn't change the fact of the matter. I do not do very well with blood donation. Quite frankly I cannot stand the sight of blood let alone the thought of it being drained from my body. People have asked: How can you be a volunteer firefighter if you can't stand the sight of blood, to which I usually respond: That's why I became a firefighter and not an EMT.

The last time I gave blood, it did not go very well. Apparently, I became so pale (I mean more than I normally am) that I scared the nurses so badly that they feared I would pass out. So I will admit that I hesitated. I was scared, but I also promised myself that I would not let fear stop me while I adventured across the land down under, and besides this was only physical danger. Of all the types of danger I have faced on this trip, mental, emotional, spiritual, etc... physical danger is the least scary of them all. So I opened the door and walked in. The receptionist was a little surprised that I was American, but after answering her questions and filling out the paperwork I was soon on my way to having my life slowly sucked out of me through a plastic tube. I was however warned that my blood would have to be tested for West Nile Virus (because apparently, America is the only place you can contract West Nile... which makes me question why its called West Nile.)


Because I know many of you have always secretly suspected it

Unfortunately, it happened again. As I was laying down and I could feel the needle in my arm as it slowly robbed me of my good ol' American blood, I started to feel light headed. I didn't want to seem a wimp, so I continued to lay there. I kept talking about my adventures and travels around Australia to the nurse as a way to distract myself, but the feeling did not go away. In fact, it got worse. Eventually, I couldn't ignore it anymore and after a few minutes I finally announced that I was feeling light-headed. Well you would have thought that I proclaimed I was having a heart-attack the way the nurses converged on me. They laid me back, brought me sugar water, and practically ripped that needle from my arm. Thankfully, they assured me that they had a lot of blood and it was going to be put to a good use.

I think I smiled up at them, but the room was spinning so I can't be sure. However, my surprises were not over, as it turns out after you give blood, you get food. I'm not talking about the few cookies and orange juice that you get from Hackensack Hospital after those vampires have finished with you. I am talking mango juice, two hot sausage rolls, a cup of tea, and four cookies. It was a feast, which made me wonder why I hadn't thought of giving blood sooner if this is the kind of treatment you get. After finishing my food and after the room stopped turning I thanked the office staff, wished them a happy 4th of July, and made my way back to the hostel.

Regardless, I think it was a productive day. I mean the way I see it, is that the best way to celebrate America is by making sure that the awesomeness which is genetically carried in my blood stream is passed on to others all over the world. After all, what better tribute is there to both countries than donating American Blood to Australians, (because let's face it, inside every Australian there is a little American trying to get out.)

So that was how I celebrated Independence Day. I crashed a family picnic and nearly passed out from blood loss, and in the end isn't that the true meaning of the holidays?