RBT

Scare tactics are big in Australia. Popular reality TV shows include Bondi Beach Rescue, which follows lifeguards as they pull the nearly lifeless from the surf, RBT (Random Breath Test), which follows cops at a drunk driving check point breathalizing and drug testing drivers, and Border Patrol, where the viewer gets to watch airport interrogations by customs officers. Government sponsored cautionary commercials tend toward the visceral; a smoker coughing in various scenarios until he hacks up blood and is diagnosed with lung cancer; a prisoner in a jumpsuit behind a glass panel inviting viewers to put their hand on the TV screen to experience the closest they'll get to friends and family if convicted of drug-driving (that's a thing); a children's birthday party where Nicky is noticed missing while the candles are being blown out only to find him drowned in the family pool. And, perhaps most randomly, a lengthy illustrated explanation of how, and how not, to store home-use petrol tanks.

The message here is, if you fuck up, we will most definitely catch you. Which is weird, because I've seen virtually no cops on patrol, especially in the smaller cities and towns we've visited. I sort of guessed the hyperbole was pro-active advertising, until we were cruising out of the Grapians National Park after a hot and vertical 10K hike, only to be pulled over. I knew I wasn't speeding (we've already learned our lesson on that front) and was amused and delighted when asked to blow into a tube! I think the officer knew by my hiking gear and sweat crystals that I hadn't been boozing, and I was somewhat disappointed that the whole interaction lasted less than 30 seconds. I just thought we were going to bro, like he'd congratulate me on my choice of vitamin water over wine or at least offer a fist bump?  He just mumbled G'day and off we went.  Mere minutes later we were checked in to the next motel, car parked, and cracking open a bottle of Tasmanian Rose.