The busker with the accordion next to the coffee shop only knows one short, jaunty Bavarian polka number. In the time it takes me to drink my coffee and eat my bacon and egg roll, he plays it four times.
I ask: has he been there long? The barista says he’s been there all morning. He grimaces, shrugs, and goes back to making coffees.
I blame Australia’s strict gun laws.
Moments later, the sandwich board in front of the coffee shop is blown over in the strong wind. It makes a loud bang when it hits the brick pavers in the enclosed pedestrian tunnel we’re in, full of busy working commuters and university students.
Some in the crowd flinch a little at the loud noise, but nobody stampedes like they had in Times Square earlier this week, fearing the sound of a motorbike backfiring was yet another domestic terrorist.
Gun laws again.
And then it occurred to me: most urban Australians are unfamiliar with the sound of a gunshot. Many have never heard that sound before.
Imagine that, America: a community made so safe by strict gun laws that your kids don’t even need to know what a gunshot sounds like.