Holiday Highlights That Are Best Forgotten.

You know, people’s easy successes in life hardly stir my curiosity. I’ve always been interested in reading about how people overcome their failures and found a way to continue on their path in life.

I’ve decided rather than write about the fabulous highlights of my recent holiday in Perth, I’ll tell you about the lowlights. 

The unexpected and embarrassing moments that made me, cringe and nervously giggle.

These are my six misadventures in the city, the ones I’m willing to divulge, from the tamely wrong to the red-faced situations.

 1.    Caught in the rain with my hands full.

Our holiday party consisted of me, non-techno grandma in her seventies (my mother) and my two techno teenagers. Three generations of my family, and all of us weary from a 7 hour country train ride. We walked out of the train station and decided to buy some groceries on our way to the holiday apartment.

The rain poured down on the streets. My shoes got wet inside as we trudged on, towing suitcases, each of us carrying hand luggage and bags of shopping. I eventually gave up the soggy saga that marked the start of our holiday and called a taxi to rescue us.

Perth City on the Swan River
source:http://www.sundaysunset.com/collections/ 

   2.   Catching the right suburban train.

How could I catch the right train to six stops ahead on a different train line to the one I’d just traveled on? How was I to know the train I was sitting on, was about to switch lines at Central Station and stop from traveling east to head south. In ignorance, I disembarked and heard the announcement the train doors were about to close on the right train I’d just left. I quit trying to make sense of the signs and our holiday party scrambled back across the railway platform…

I needed to hear an announcement that went like this, “Dear passengers, your train is about to change direction. Hang onto your seats if you’re continuing on to….”

Salmon Bay, Rottnest Island

3.    Flagging down a bus in a hurry is not a good idea.

The bus arrived at the bus stop before I did. My youngest teenager raced ahead to get the bus driver to wait for the rest of us. He was grumpy about keeping his schedule on time. He drove on, like a rally car driver, running over the edge of gutters and swinging wide around corners. Freaking me out.

4.    Picking a fight on the bus.

“Stop staring at me,” a young woman sitting on the opposite side of the bus snarled at my teenager. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”

Bristling mother, me, said to my kid, “What’s going on?”

My kid said to the young woman, “I’m not staring,” in a challenging tone of voice.

Tension sharpened the air in the bus. Eyes were drawn to my family and to the antagonist. The bus driver was busy negotiating the city streets choked with afternoon, going-home traffic.

I sat on tenterhooks waiting to see what would happen next. Fortunately, the antagonist decided to stop the verbal baiting. I sensed the young woman was practised at getting antsy with strangers. Picking on someone she decided looked alone and vulnerable. Drawing attention to herself. She was an angry person in need of a way to vent her emotions.

A short bus ride turned out to be a long exercise in keeping my patience.

     5.    Sea-sickness is no laughing matter.

After a wonderful Easter Monday spent on Rottnest Island, it was time to board the high-speed ferry for the journey back to Fremantle Harbour. There were hundreds of people standing in lines on the jetty and three ferries berthed to transport the public holiday crowds.

We found seats on the bottom level of the ferry. Less fortunate people had no choice but to stand in the aisles or sit on the stairway. The ferry hit rough water. Waves smashed into the windows. The boat rocked up and down and gently rolled from side to side as it cut through the turbulent water.

 

Rottnest Island Ferries in the distance.

Some passengers suffered motion sickness. My mother told me news stories about over-crowded ferries that had sunk. The passengers couldn’t escape from the lower decks and drowned.

I was full of nervous energy. I heard faint, animal-like sounds behind me as more passengers lost the contents of their stomachs. I looked around me. People sat with their heads cradled in their hands. Complexions were grey. There were also heads tilted backwards to stop the bile rising up throats.

I became even more nervous about the obvious signs of distress of the passengers around me and what would become of my family.

The crew handed out paper bags to use for the sea-sickness. A mother with two children sitting across from me giggled. Her nerves were as bad as mine.  I giggled with her too. I had no other way of releasing my growing anxiety. Then I smelt the now, free-flowing vomit in the cabin. It was no laughing matter. The terrible smells threatened to loosen the contents of my stomach.

I spent the rest of the boat trip concentrating on breathing through my mouth and suppressing the wrenching sounds in my throat. Not funny!

I made it to Fremantle Harbour with an unused, paper vomit bag. Had the smells been any stronger and the journey any longer…

My mother on Rottnest Island

   6.   My most embarrassing moment was caused by an automatic toilet door.

I’ve never been a fan of the stainless steel, unisex, self-cleaning public toilets with the sliding door and the voice messages. We have the talking toilets in my outback city so I’m not a novice at using them. I just didn’t fully appreciate the ten minute time limit to using them in Perth.

When I unknowingly reached my time limit, the sliding door automatically slid open. I was caught with my pants down, sitting on the toilet with a clear view of the public square in front of me. 

Not funny!

But the comedy of errors that followed only added to my woes.

late afternoon at Cottesloe Beach, Perth

When the door automatically opened, my mother stared at me in shock.

“Mum, hit the button again,” I yelled as I attempted to cover my dignity as best I could, under the trying circumstances.

“I didn’t touch the button,” my mother said with indignity. She misunderstood me. She thought I was accusing her of prematurely opening the door.

“Mum, push the button to shut the door,” I said, trying again to get her help.

“Where’s the button?” Mum asked, moving in a stilted walk as her eyes searched the outside wall. She eventually found it and pressed the button hard. The door didn’t move. The shocked look on her face didn’t change either.

“Mum, press the button on the inside wall.” It was my last hope. If Mum couldn’t help, I would have to get up, clutching my knickers and do it myself.

My mother succeeded. At last, the damn toilet door slid shut.

A day later, Mum told me the group of people who were waiting to use the toilet laughed and giggled as our drama unfolded.

Thanks Mum!

Truly, the unforgettable highlights of my holidays could happen in other places around the world. Public transport and facilities causes crowding and mingling with strangers. Unexpected and embarrassing moments connected me with the throngs of humanity. 

Truly, I’m glad to be back home in the country and driving my own car to go places.

Live, love and laugh, friends!

Have a good week.

Cheers, 
Ashlyn.