I like the colour orange. It’s not my favourite colour, but it is still pleasant to look at. I think I like orange because I like bright colours. Bright colours attract attention, and I like attention.
My desire to be noticed and unique was evident about three years ago when I was shopping for a backpack. I was about to embark on a holiday to Bolivia and Peru, and I needed supplies. So I found myself wandering around a street market in Chile, where I lived at the time, looking for a brand new backpack. I wanted something that would be easily identifiable, something that I’d notice instantly when waiting at a luggage carousel, or when retrieving it from the cargo hold on a bus, or when my friends were looking for me in a crowded place. Ideally I wanted something bright red, but I found the orange to be even more eye catching. It was luminous. It almost seemed to glow from within. It was practically its own light source. I haggled upwards, because I am terrible at haggling, and came away with something bright and voluminous and cheap. The quality of the bag told me that it would not last very long, but I did not need it for a long time, only for a good time.
“Hey Michael,” said Alvaro, “that’s a… that’s a pretty orange backpack you’ve got there.”
I’d arrived in Bolivia a few days ahead of Alvaro and Hayley, and when they finally got to the hostel in La Paz my backpack was one of the first things they noticed.
“Isn’t it great?” I said, lifting it up so that they could get a better view. “I think it’s rather unique.”
“It certainly is… orange,” agreed Hayley.
The next morning, as I was preparing to take a shower, Hayley pointed out an interesting pattern. “Hey Michael, your towel matches your backpack,” she said.
It was true. The towel I’d packed for the trip was orange too. I’d brought it over from South Africa, and I’d packed it because it was slightly smaller that my other towels, so would take up less space. I explained as much to Hayley, and then retrieved my other toiletries.
“Hey wait,” said Alvaro, “is your toothbrush orange too?”
It was. Back in Chile, I’d bought a pack of four toothbrushes, and in packing for my trip I’d seized a toothbrush at random, which just so happened to be orange.
I tried hiding my soap dish from their judging eyes, but I was unable to conceal it’s dramatic yellow glow. I’d bought the soap dish on my first day in Bolivia, and it had only been available in deep yellow, bordering on orange.
“You really like orange, huh?” said Hayley.
As I shuffled off to go and shower I mumbled under my breath, “I mean, I like orange, but it’s not my favourite colour or anything….”
After freshening up, we all went down for breakfast, where they were serving coffee, pancakes, and fruit. As I reached for an orange I saw Hayley raise her eyebrows at Alvaro.
A few days later my friends and I found ourselves on the streets of Cuzco in Peru, exploring the market places. Among the trinkets and knickknacks there were also paintings for sale. Alvaro saw one that was particularly noticeable for it’s use of colours. Orange had been used quite liberally. “Hey Michael, what do you think about this painting? Orange, huh?”
I looked up from the key chains I was perusing and regarded the painting. “Yeah, it’s nice I guess. Sure.”
Over the course of that trip, I started to notice a pattern. We ate at a restaurant where the tablecloths were made of white paper, and customers were given crayons to draw on them while they ate. Hayley distributed crayons around the table, making sure to give me an orange one.
In clothes stores, Alvaro kept showing me orange shirts and asking me if I liked them.
When buying food for long bus rides, Hayley would ask if I wanted any oranges.
It wasn’t long before they started referring to me as Orange Michael.
“You know, ’cause you like orange?” Alvaro explained.
“Sure, I like it,” I agreed, “but it’s not my favourite colour. I just have a lot of orange stuff…”
But my friends would hear none of it. Instead they would look at the Coke I was about to buy and say, “You sure you want that? You know they’ve also got Fanta…?”
So the name stuck. I am not sure if it is a result of their encouragement, or a general shift in my personality, but I do find myself more and more attracted to the colour orange. At the very least, I am much more aware of the colour orange now than I’d ever been before. But the funny thing is, orange is not my favourite colour. It’s not even my second favourite colour, but it is the colour that Hayley and Alvaro associate with me.
I’d almost forgotten the nickname Orange Michael until a few weeks ago, when I went out to buy a fresh pair of running shoes. This is always a stressful process, because I’m not always sure if I am buying the best running shoes for my feet, and I don’t have the language skills to discuss shoe specs with a salesperson. But what I do know is that I like brightly-coloured running shoes, so when I’d narrowed down my choices to two different pairs, I obviously leaned towards the shoes that were more eye catching. Unsurprisingly, they were orange.
As I carried my newly-bought shoes out of the store, I thought about how beautiful they were, and how the colour of the shoes could be seen from quite far away. I knew that at my next race, people would look at the almost blinding glare of my shoes and they would say to themselves, “Well, I guess that guy really likes orange.”
It occurred to me then that, even though orange really isn’t my favourite colour, perhaps I really am suited to the name Orange Michael.
The Hangul Games 