This seasons fashion is idiocy, best
expressed through missed flights and further unnecessary expenditure.
While the finger of blame could stray slightly towards others, I must
accept full responsibility for uncovering more and more unusual ways
to waste my money. Us avant-garde types care little for cash as long
as we look cool doing whatever keeps us at the cutting edge of chic.
My flagrant disregard for finance or flight schedules must surely put
me at the top of some sort of list of notable achievements as
intelligence is so yesterday.
My stupidity stocks started rising as
soon as I booked flights for hours of the day that most people don't
even know exist. How I thought I could make it the airport at those
times shows I was already considering taking cretinism to the
catwalk. For obvious reasons, such flights are usually cheaper than
other times when more modes of public transport are available to get
to the airport. A $10 saving on a flight only equates to laughter
when it costs $20 more to get to the airport.
Thankfully I thought at the time, Trev
offered to take me to Hobart airport to start this latest
misadventure into destitution. Needing to be there at 7:25am is not
impossible in many peoples minds, but we had closed the bar together
the night before and the alarm forbid any more than 4 hours sleep.
Trev's mode of functioning was largely instinctual, so he deemed a
coffee to be essential to survive the drive back without a co-pilot
forewarning him of the changing colour of traffics lights and such.
Pulling up in the 2 minute drop-off zone, I was required to wait by
the car while Trev retrieved his survival fluid. From the car park I
was lucky enough to hear the last boarding call for my flight. I was
unlucky enough to have common sense desert me as I waited anxiously
for Trev to return. Running inside to the counter believing the last
boarding call afforded me 5 – 10 minutes, I discovered to my dismay
it had afforded me about 5 – 10 seconds. $54 for my best intentions
to take the flight to Melbourne, $104 for me and my luggage to make
the same trip 2 hours later.
That sort of experience and waste of
money normally steels someone's resolve to not make such mistakes
again. 2 days later I proved just how unique I am. After a few
motivational scotchs' with an old friend in the city, I caught the
shuttle to the airport at 2am. 3 hours of bone realignment and
prayers for any sort of relief from consciousness on the airport
floor, I checked in and made my way to the gate for my 6:15am
departure. Finding couches in the waiting area was like having
strippers at your own funeral. It was too late to make the most of
it. Or so I thought. 45 minutes until take off didn't stop me from
sneaking in 40 minutes of sleep. Waking up just 5 minutes later than
I did, I would have known for sure that all hope was gone. Even the
flight closed sign as I ran to the counter didn't dim my hopes that I
could still board from a mobile staircase as the plane taxied down
the runway. Apparently, everyone except for me has a pretty robust
sense of humour at that time of the morning. The service desk staff
cut me some slack when they realised their laughter wasn't as
infectious as they hoped and my look of displeasure was
misinterpreted as being outwardly vengeful rather than inwardly
embarrassing. $50 later gave me 8 hours to parade around the airport
like the hippest cat in town.
After such an eventful time getting to
Port Macquarie, the events there seem quite pale in comparison. And
relatively cheap. Staying at Adams unit for the duration, I finally
got to spend some time with his lovely bride to be, Kiara. Very
little was needed in the way of entertainment as Adam and I went
about amusing ourselves in the usual manner. I was there ostensibly
for the engagement party though, which I could detail at length but
won't as everyone knows how such events go for me. It was great to
spend some time with the other groomsman Gus, and old Lismore friends
in Albert and Valentina (Still not their real names) came along to
add their special touch to the nights proceedings.
Stupidity being the style of the
moment, I furthered bolstered my trend-setting stocks by letting
Adam's staffy pup go for a romp around the neighbourhood unattended.
As he had been baying at my leg with amorous intent while I tried to
eat breakfast, I put him in the front yard and elegantly forgot to
close the front gate. I searched the streets for 45 minutes while
cooking up numerous reasons for his escape that didn't implicate me
in any way. I returned home to concoct a plan more cunning than just
wandering the streets with a panic stricken air and found the pup
sitting at the back door probably wondering where I had gone to as
well. The feeling of relief didn't last long when he tried to
celebrate our reunion with an attempted mount that is specifically
named after his species. So luckily I guess, the trip will be
remembered more for my failed attempts to fly than the family I
almost fractured.
