Travel fails or rather crazy stuff happens to me, regualarly. I’m that person who splits their pants or falls flat on their face for no apparent reason. My work colleagues love me because I’m a source of endless entertainment. Read on for travelling failures – crazy things that happen to me. Episode One.
Whilst this story is not about me travelling it did happen planning for travel. Who says it begins when you get on the plane?
The day on which one starts out is not the time to start one’s preparations.
I was heading to Malaysia and I needed two swimsuits. One for leave my behind after dipping in volcanic mud and a new one for lying by the resort pool.
Off I set for the David Jones (One of two department stores in Australia) and look for a new costume. Swimwear speciality stores hadn’t started getting in their summer stock at that point so I needed to go to a large store.
Dissapearing in my lunch hour from work – it’s a 20 minute trek from my office and I rushed up 7 floors to the swimwear section, I was trying to walk as quickly as possible to have enough room to explore and search.
I try on 60. Promise to loose weight (next year) and turn to put my dress on to pay for my suits (yes, couldn’t help myself, had to have the second pair)
Ahhhh then it happens.
I can’t zip up my dress. The zipper is stuck. I pull and yank. I wrangle myself out of the dress to at least help and that does further damage. Panic sets in. I look in the mirror. No sexy set of lingerie on this body. I deadset have the biggest pair of Bridget Jones undies on you’ve ever seen. To make matters worse I had pulled them up earlier and they had a gapping hole in them as a result. They may also of been of an age where they possibly should of been retired. They were in a very attractive skin colour to give the illusion of being naked.
Tick. One thing in my favour.
The only thing in my favour- depending how you look at it of course! I’m on the swimwear floor. Yep. That would be the floor with NO CLOTHES just swimmers! Great! So what does one do? I put my dress on with the rear zip gapping open – my Bridget Jones on display like … Like what? I can’t even imagine.
I get myself together.
Convincing myself no one would notice, out I go. From the change room to the counter for my first purchase. Standing behind the counter with the lovely sales lady as she processes my card and gets my receipt.
Asking for a LARGE bag and then proceed to go down three flights on the escalator to the ‘affordable’ floor to get something to wear for the remainder of the day. The LARGE bag is required to hold over my shoulder in an attempt to hide my broken dress and my dreadfully sorry underwear.
Over my shoulder like a fashion accessory, goes this big bag, pretending I am cool with the bag over my shoulder. Large bag, broken zip, standing sideways and undies (broken) on display, it was a site to see.
I was meeting my husband after work he will have a cow! Buying a new outfit because , well in truth it’s all very justified really.
Down I go. That part wasn’t so bad. Everyone must of been looking down at their screens and didn’t notice me! Now, I have to search a very busy floor for something to wear!
I rush around. I find a skirt – my size. Tick. Grabbing a Tshirt that would be suitable, I head for the changing room.
And just like that…
After getting dressed it’s off to the counter to pay for the clothing tickets that are in my hand. I get a lecture from this snotty little girl who says that this not the store policy or some error of judgement.
At this point my calm is gone. Walking almost naked around your store is not normal. I turn. About 80 heads have turned to watch my emotional voice as it rises a few decibels. I demand for her to put it through. I’ve embarrassed her now, she just wants me to go away.
Finally, clothes on I head back to the office. My colleagues don’t notice the change in outfit straight away, just the extended lunch hour! But the smart little cookie i work with comes back from a meeting and says, ‘did you get changed?’ I had to explain. They’re on the floor rolling with laughter. For days later I am reminded as more and more people want to hear the story.
I don’t need to repeat the story at home. My husband never noticed the new outfit. I’m not going to volunteer the information. For those that think he will know now, no he won’t, he doesn’t read my blogs, despite telling me they are wonderful blah blah blah. Stay tuned for episode two.