Day 3 – (not sure what happened to day2, think it may have been lost somewhere in Singapore).
Aarron, the happy ginger Pirate is grinning and singing and drinking coffee to keep us all awake as we drive north to Terrigal. I wasn’t prepared to feel any kind of joy today after the debacle we had just endured, but there it was. A lovely fuzzy fizzing, deep in my belly, as we drive along the coast road and into a gorgeous bay.
Terrigal is Cornwall-esque with its craggy rocks and crashing Blue Ocean. Small boutiques and cafes line the promenade and standing majestically at the end of a long strip of golden sand is the Crowne Plaza hotel, our final destination! We are whisked through check-in by smiley efficient staff who aren’t phased by our frazzled appearance, and into an Ocean view room with beds …beds …lovely big beds with crisp white linen….lovely big beds that we crawl into immediately and promptly fall into an abyss of jet-lagged slumber.
‘What time is it?’ I mumble when I wake.
‘No idea ?’ replies Jo.
Its dark out and we are ravenous. So we get ready to go and watch the rugby. Several pints later and Jo is wobbling, several more pints later and she is put to bed and out like a light within minutes. But I’m wired and Aarron is meeting friends, its Saturday night and the young ones are partying in the club downstairs. It takes about five seconds to persuade me to join him and half an hour later I’m being swung around by Heston, the Mauri man-mountain who has come to meet us. He also just happens to be one of the friendliest guys on the planet and we hit the dance floor surrounded by people who are all at least 20 years my junior! I throw a few more shapes then suddenly I’m hit again by a wall of jet-lag. Time to go!
I wave goodbye to the young ones and poodle off to the lifts. I follow a crowd of Japanese tourists in and bow merrily to them when they get out on the second floor. The doors slide shut and then…nothing. Ah yes, through my drunken brain fog I remember the lift is operated by a key card. The lift is operated by a key card that is currently sitting somewhere at the bottom of Jo’s handbag! Not to worry someone will be along soon….won’t they?
Apparently not! Twenty minutes later I’m sitting in a corner singing merrily to myself. This is to distract my mind from focussing on the fact that I’m about to pee myself. No phone signal means I can’t ring for help. And since it’s my first night in the hotel, I’m hammered and will have to face the staff for the next 12 days, I’m very reluctant to press the emergency button. Getting stuck in a lift was definitely not how I thought I would spend my first night here. ……I knew coming to Australia was a bad fucking idea!