"Oi," cried the flight attendant as I nearly walked off the plane without my purse. I paused for a moment as I wondered at this exclamation. I only turned around when he cried out "OI!" again in a more urgent tone. This was no Yiddish sigh of despair, this demanded action. I halted and spun round as the attendant dashed up to return to me my black handbag. He smiled as he passed it over, "Have a nice stay in Australia."
I supposed my first order of linguistic business was to learn to say "oi" whenever I meant to say "hey".