Money can strangely lose all significance once you have
none. On the proviso that you have friends who will compromise their credit
rating on your behalf. When the universe deemed that the last $8 in my account
was superfluous to my needs, I am thankful that friends were willing to help
keep my nose just out of the effluent I was treading water in. Now I'm
bankrupt, in debt and carefree! As long as I can avoid the debt collectors at
least.
As generous as I like to think I am, when I am able to be
obviously, it wasn't the kind hearted hand out of free cash to everyone that
broke me. It was a long series of disasters that luckily came at the end of my
Bowen holiday. Had such things happened at the start, the holiday would have
quickly transpired into one of serious regret; an attitude at odds with my
carelessness, er......carefree nature I mean. My 'senior moment' that left my
van keys dangling aimlessly from the ignition started a run of bad luck
unparalleled since superstition was invented.
Rachel got moved from melons to a capsicum picking farm, an
appropriate analogy for this is being moved from cleaning the toilet to having
to do it with your tongue. Judging by the amount of painkillers each day of
picking requires, poverty is the most likely outcome for her. Even more so
given that we had to stay closer to the hostel as a result of the move, and the
money I borrowed off her quickly disappeared into the vans fuel tank.
Having to say goodbye for the next two months came at a
large emotional cost, but that was of little concern to my creditors. I was
well and truly ready to leave Bowen by this time, knowing that I was not about
to bump into Hugh or Baz wandering down the street any time soon. Holiday
destinations that are worse than your usual residence make you far more
grateful to be returning home. It was terrible to be leaving Rachel for so
long, but luckily it didn't cost me anything but tears.
The chip in the windscreen just out of Townsville had me
waving a sad farewell to my bond. Thankfully it was only $100, and not the
thousands that other rental companies required. The biggest expenses all came
after a few wrong turns trying to find the Cairns airport. I have no way to
explain or justify why I didn't have a map or the inclination to ask for
directions. That problem was further compounded by a Herculean effort of
stupidity that stopped me from double checking my flight details. Being the
domestic leg of an international flight, my 30 minute leeway was woefully inadequate
and I was duly punished $70 to transfer the flight until the following day.
That left me 20 minutes to make my connecting flight in
Darwin, and a need to graft wings onto a pigs back. That $186 flight got
returned to SkyWest for a refund of nothing and $438 was sucked from Laura's
credit card to get me home in time for work the following day. Not one to be
easily discouraged, I went straight out to splash on some fast food. While that
sped my system towards a degenerative disease, I still had a few dollars that
couldn't be spent quick enough. In Cairns with no friends, and a surly attitude
that was unlikely to make new ones any time soon, I hit the cinema and spent a
large portion of my remaining cash on an even larger portion of popcorn. The
South African movie 'District 9' was far enough removed from reality to forget
my woes, and far enough removed from the usual Hollywood insults to
intelligence to actually be enjoyable. Bankrupting yourself can really be a fun
process if you just relax into it and let the financial haemorrhaging run its
desired course.
These expenses should be kept from Laura as her credit
card will be housing me and feeding me until the next pay day. After kissing
the Broome tarmac Pope-like on my arrival, Laura was waiting for me strangely
devoid of the air of condemnation most guardians would have receiving an errant
child. The 'I love Bowen' t-shirt I brought back was graciously accepted even
though it turned out to be a better fit on her teddy bear. This further
illustrates the pointlessness of presents as Laura probably prefered to lend me
less money than see it spent on sleeping gear for soft-toys. Now it's time to
find out how carefree I can live in one of the most expensive places in
Australia with a terminally ill bank account requiring transfusions I can't
give until I embrace male prostitution