Be my guest.....

Thank you sincerely to the inebriated couple that laughed and joked(it must have been the funniest one liner ever) outside my hotel room, at 2:35am. Even the hysterical game of knocking on hotel room doors and running away, wasn't enough to entertain you though. More jokes, lots more hearty laughter and hiding around the corner, only to stagger, whilst whispering(we can all hear you, probably more clearly than your talking)back to your room......opposite me. Here's the rub, I'm getting up at 6am.....And I'm worried about your well being, did you manage to get into bed, or did you pass out. Have you hydrated enough? Have you brushed your teeth? Do you have coffee in your room?
These are the types of questions I'm going to ask you when I call your room in a few hours. Rest well.
Note to the wise: the next time you play 'ratatat ginger' (knock knock) at 2:35amyou might meet the inner ginger in me.....and he's not nice :/
The expression 'we've all done it' was bandied around the next day. Well, I don't think I have. Am I missing out on something? Trust me, I've misbehaved but I've not gone down that route. So now today is 'don't poke the tiger day' and I can already feel how tired I will be......you know that tired, when you start confusing your words.....today will be one of those vaginas.
Here's hoping for the strength and endurance that I had in the nineties, those were the days....endurance of an Olympian, body fat ratio single figures and the only extra weight you carried was in the large quantity of hair gel and products.......for the girls it was hair spray and bangles. Sleep deprivation was the norm and I actually thrived on less being more.
For example- It was the early nineties that I went out for my birthday in Australia, with horrendous food poisoning. I spent my time between, doing shots at the bar, dancing like a loon and then dashing to the bathroom to throw up. To the accolade of my antipodian friends, who thought it was booze related, I remain a legend. How easy it was to impress. This was all due to the fact I've always been a FOMO HOMO. Fear of Missing Out. I just don't want to miss out on anything. It must be something to do with being youngest of three, attention seeking etc You know the score. If not, just watch that awful show 'Jeremy Kyle' these days you can find any excuse for any behaviour......and lay blame at someone else's door. How convenient. In my day I was just a busy child, now it's ADHD or a million other reasons not to have chastised me. I think I turned out alright, although maybe a few more slippers/back of my hand would have helped.

Vancouver you've got me for twenty four hours.

Vancouver you've got me for twenty four hours. 

So I awake in my lovely hotel in Vancouver, bleary eyed and jet lagged at 3am. I switch the light on for the obligatory trip to the bathroom. Step out of bed and onto a plastic package on the floor. Looking down I see with closer examination, a pack of male tena pants. 

Now I know, I was incredibly tired last night and even with a few beers, I'm not usually that unobservant. 

So two schools of thought. One, whoever got into my room, saw me and made the decision to not rob me and/or abuse me in any way, just leave a pair of tena pants. Is that the equivalent of being the ugly guy/girl, who falls asleep at the Frat party and wakes up with more clothes on!?!

Or two, that the Sheraton hotel offers a late 'turn-down' service and they make a decision on whether the guest will manage a 'dry night'......I obviously didn't pass the assessment, the decision was made, hence the tena pants were gifted my way. Thankfully I was spared the embarrassment of waking up in them (As parents will testify, that could lead to low self esteem). 

*i hope they're not on the bill, if this is the correct scenario

Just for the record, I'm not happy with either scenario, so I'm just going to hope the previous occupant had issues! However, if you ever see me wearing a scarf and dark glasses in the chemist, you know the Sheraton was right.

Exploring the city and walking to the bakers later that morning, I'm chatting on the phone to my sister. When nearing the baker I say 'bonjour' (I'm so Cosmo!) to a local couple. Both give me a strange look and a half, nervous smile. Taken aback, I start to explain to my sister, that I'm kind of wearing what could be construed as pyjamas(dare I say play suit, if that exists for men), this 'must' be why I got the strange greeting. I then catch a glimpse of my unshaven(it's only been a few days) self in the shop window. My silhouetted reflection looks back in horror. I look like I've been electrocuted at a kiss concert, I make Keith Richards look respectable....I look stark raving bonkers. The combination of bad outfit and with hair like the proverbial chickens backside(all s**t and feathers), gives me the look and demeanour of a breakout from prison or an extra from one flew over the cuckoos nest.

I think it's time for a personal intervention and that's not a euphemism for touching myself, before you comment.

They say nothing is lost till your mother can't find it, maybe that's the perfect person to hide this outfit.

Well the day did improve slightly before the flatline of an evening. Clutching onto dignity, I'm meeting up with a group of friends. Lunch at the waterfront is breathtaking and watching the seaplanes depart and shuttle around the city is a must. The vivid colours, the mountains, the freshest of air are all vying for your attention. This is a must see destination. It's a real celebration of culture here, it's a given of 'outdoor living' and with eclectic restaurants and attractions. That's what it's all aboooot(as they say locally).

After lunch I'm slightly secretly pleased, as my friend was handed the camera to take the group picture *isn't it always the ugly friend who gets this job, in the sorority showdown of life? Thankfully it wasn't me for a change, as my million selfies will stand testament. 

So Saturday night arrives, time to work the flight home. I love working Saturdays, said no one ever. However, I love working as cabin crew, the travel was my childhood wish and dream. My father would get so frustrated, trying to deter me. Although of the many things he tried to deter me from, this he knew he couldn't beat. Hunger for travel, it's part of your DNA. 

Dad also tried to deter me from other life choices, if I had a pound for ever time Dad questioned my then hidden sexuality, I'd have had a badass Harley Davidson, he would have been so proud(secretly with some super cute biker boots, sorry Pops).

So homeward bound, in time for the left overs of a weekend. Sunday. Ug. My mother used to say "beware, only dangerous women go out on Sundays" sage words, as I'm meeting my girlfriends that night. I always thought I was old enough to know better but young enough to do it anyway....but maybe not. As I know it will start with "I'm only going for one, I'm soooo jet lagged" to body slamming and stage diving, whilst encouraging people to make the best sexual choices and life decisions. Oops Britney, I did/do/done/will do it again. Who am I kidding, to miss the health benefits from that one glass of wine a day, that would be churlish! And the positive effects of the subsequent wines, lightning funny comebacks, witty asides and hysterical observational humour! Erm, before the inevitable spiral to singing as Whitney, thinking you move like Jagger, philosophising life in general and demonstrating the next internet craze like planking.

That leaves hangover Monday(everyone hates Mondays) and Tuesday(Mondays ugly sister) before I fly off again. I'm passenger-ing on the next trip, no doubt next to a guy who'll claim sovereignty over the middle armrest, but none the less, I'll be rested on arrival for a change. Roll up your sleeves Boston, I'm coming to get you!