So… here I am…. Sitting in the PJ O'Brien's at Tullamarine airport, Melbourne. It's around 2pm and about now… I was supposed to be getting on a flight to Sydney.
Sydney…. City of the stars, the harbour, the bridge… and many other… things.
"Why are you sitting in a bar Amy?" I hear you ask? "Why are you not jetting your way off to this fabulous place to be fabulous with the fabulous people all the live long fabulous day!!?? Is it because they cancelled your flight…" No. "Is it because there are domestic delays today?" Nup. "Is it because you met your soul mate in the departure lounge and the two of you are running away to Barbados together to live in luxury and laugh at the silly people still so poor they have to work for a living?"
Sadly…. Again… No.
Today friends I have learnt a very valuable lesson.
NEVER TRUST ASHLEIGH FLANDERS TO MAKE YOUR TRAVEL ARANGEMENTS.
Lets back track a little…
After many days in Ballarat doing little more than, eating, sleeping, walking the dog and surfing the Internet… I was busting to get out of the Western Victorian hotbed I once called home. Don't get me wrong… there is nothing about Ballarat that is specifically bad… (Except perhaps for the bogans and the matching lime green tracksuits that seem to populate a large amount of the city) but I have spent the past two years in London. The city where you go a million miles an hour... or you don't go at all. And you get trampled to death by the crowd coming up behind you.
It was quite a big gear change to go home to the town who's national emblem is a giant flower called the begonia. Yep. Quiet days and quiet nights… being at one with my thoughts…
I was slowly going mad.
So… I woke up this morning a little excited about my imminent trip to the big smoke… I got up early, packed my bags, cleaned my room (on pain of death from my mother) and hopped the Ballarat shuttle bus to the Airport. Armed with my latest copy of "Ok! Australia" (appropriately celebrating the Olsen twin's 21st birthday… god bless them everyone…) I was ready to pop in the I-pod, listen to some tunes and disappear to the land of my imagination for the hour and a half ride… (for those of you wishing to know… the land of my imagination involves a Lindsay Lohan, the Olsen Twins and giant padded cell in rehab… no mum I am not a lesbian…) but to my dismay, the shuttle was deserted and was forced to make inane small talk with the driver who told me about seventy five times that there was lots of fog today, that he is from Minnesota, his sons live in Melbourne and Florida and he used to be the deputy head master of Colac primary school… why his career has turned the dramatic corner to Shuttle Bus driver… I will never know.
Anyway… got to the airport and met ash… my currently albino like friend with bleached hair and Macaulay Culkin like features who I met at university. Ash and I had planned this trip a while back… when I was still in London. He rang me up while I was at work one day and stated quite plainly "you and I are going to Sydney to visit Tanya on the fifteenth that's ok yeah?" "yeah" I replied… I have lots of old mates in Sydney… many places and people to see and do and would love to get up to the town I once called home and left six months later calling it the city of shattered dreams… "book it will ya? I'm busy" I said… and so he did.
Apparently.
Fast forward to the polite blonde ladies at the virgin terminal pointing us in the direction of the check in desk, visualise if you will, the normal "baggage" and "extra weight" jokes to be made whilst standing in line… the checking out of the male flight attendants and the obligatory mullet sighting... and of course they were taking that mullet to Dubbo.
Then… in your mind's eye visualise Irene. Polite, brunette, funky glasses Irene… just going about her day… calling up two adorable chums laughing all the way to the big smoke to check in and having to tell us in her sunny voice
"I'm sorry… I cant seem to find your booking for today"
Uncomfortable silence.
Confused stare at each other.
More uncomfortable silence.
"I'm sorry… you can't find what?" I said.
"It has to be there… I booked it, I have the confirmation right here…" said Ash
"I'm terribly sorry… but neither of you are in the system for today…"
"Flanders?" I said "make the mean lady stop lying… why is she lying to us Ash… ASH!"
Now… for the full effect of this story you need to understand that, much like myself, in times of pressure and stress, Albino Ash tends to get a little loud and a little fast… without realising.
"COME ON IRENE (ha ha) I BOOKED THIS I HAVE THE CONFIRMATION RIGHT HERE HANG ON I BOOKED THIS FOR THE 20TH WHICH IS THE DAY WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE LEAVING I BOOKED THREE FLIGHTS TO AND FROM SYDNEY ALL ON THE WRONG DAY HOW CAN I GET A FLIGHT FOR TODAY FOR THE TWO OF US TO GET THE HELL TO SYDNEY TO SEE OUR FRIEND TANYA EAT THAI FOOD AND GET DRUNK WHERE IS THE INFORMATION DESK OH IS IT OVER THERE OK I AM GOING TO GO OVER THERE AND CHANGE THE BOOKING I HOPE IT DOESN'T COST TOO MUCH BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE I WILL PAY THE DIFFERENCE BECAUSE I WAS THE ONE WHO MESSED UP THE BOOKING I AM REALLY SORRY AMY OH MY GOD THIS IS HILAROUS WE MUST WRITE A BLOG ABOUT IT IN THE BAR WHEN THIS IS DONE."
Now… lets pan across the terminal to James. In fact… zoom in for a close up on James. James works at the Virgin information desk and is having a rather banal day talking to businessmen about red eye flights until he sees an Albino Ash and International Amy (that's what ash calls me in his blogs) approaching his booth. You could see the look of fear in his eyes. Admittedly he hid it well.
"James… we need you to help us out… we need you to get us quickly and cheaply on a flight to Sydney…" I said… flashing a smile and leaning over the desk. I saw it straight away. James wasn't interested in helping me…but he WAS interested in helping Ash.
So… while I was on the phone explaining to Tanya why we were now going to be one… no two… no four hours late into Sydney… Ash was in hyper drive "lets see what a little flirting get us" mode…
Apparently, a little flirting could get us extra $280 bunged onto the price of our ticket to get us the hell out of this airport.
Lesson two of today… never leave Ash in hyper drive alone for too long… because as I hung up the phone and turned back to the counter, Ash had some how gone from a flirty moment to one of international security. Yes… as I walked back to our friends at the info counter Ash was actually saying… out loud… to an airport staff member… "cant we just get a Qantas plane to shoot a Virgin plane out of the sky so we can leave earlier?"
James was not amused. He stared coldly at Ash and shook his head. Quietly muttering "no… don't…" before the SAS came to sucker punch him in the head and claim his first-born child. (don't tell them but they'll be waiting a while…)
So… terrorist jokes put to one side and excess costs paid… we went to check in our bags… THREE HOURS EARLY. Brunette Irene gave us a sympathetic look and tried to make us feel somewhat better by regaling us of tales of other stupid travellers booking themselves in on the wrong day, week, year…
Cold comforts Irene. Cold comforts.
And so… here I sit dear friends… in a P.J O'Brien's… drinking in the airport prices, watching the little hand move past the big hand and writing to all you good people to pass the time… and quite sadly… ash is doing the same thing.
To read his account of events… go to www.myspace.com/one_step_out
If you need me… I'll be at the airport.
T
