Why My Body Went on Strike
A Perth Holiday Adventure, by B-Fly
Okay, so remember when I was whinging about being too sore and in pain to actually move and didn't want to go out on New Year's Eve, yadda yadda yadda? Well here's why. As mentioned in previous blogs, I had gone sand-surfing/sledding last Saturday morning. Climbing up the huge sand dunes was just a primer. That's where my legs got a bit sore. This story is about how they got really sore. What I like about this story is that, for once, it has nothing to do with me being in really bad shape. It was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, being told the wrong thing but a complete tool. You know, that sort of thing....I feel like Sophia from the Golden Girls...."Imagine this....Sicily, 1942...."
Imagine this....Perth, Western Australia, Monday morning, December 30th, 2002. 5.30am. I'm supposed to be on a tour to Carnac and Rottnest Islands. I haul my tired ass out of my bunk bed to go take a shower in the Funk Motel (more about that later). The last thing I want to do is put on my bikini before 6am in the bleeping morning. Surely I can just get dressed and put my bathing suit on before we get to the first island, right? I won't be the only dork who doesn't have their bathing suit on at 6am, right?
7am. On the boat in Freemantle. At this moment in time, I am the only English speaking tourist in the boat. This is a first, and I have to say, it was pretty interesting to be in the minority, for once (more about this later too!) Everyone else on the tour only speaks Japanese. Thankfully we have a Japanese guide. She is nice. We also have Mr. Tool. I don't remember his real name, but he is the ass who is piloting the godforsaken boat. "Does everyone have their bathing suits on?" (Followed by translation in Japanese.) Everyone nods. DOH! I'm the only loser who doesn't have the bathing suit on underneath my clothes currently. Tool gives me a LOOK and tells me to go put my bathing suit on in the bathroom while we make our way to Carnac Island. Fine. Personally, I think it's a little too early for someone to have his bad attitude, but whatever.
So, I grab my bikini and make my way to the loo. I get inside and lock the door. This is definitely the smallest bathroom I've ever been in. It's just a stall, with a tiny sink and a toilet. No worries, I just need to put on my bikini and it's smooth sailing...um, not quite...I'm trying to get my bikini bottom on, but I keep falling over. There's absolutely nothing to hold on to. No bar, nothing. The best I can do is kinda cling to the sink to steady myself. The boat is swaying from side to side. Hard. Then the boat starts bobbing up and down. Very very hard. Ba-BOOM. Ba-BOOM. We start going faster and faster. This only increases the violent smacks of the boat on the water. Forget the freaking bathing suit, I'm worried about not getting hurt. We go even faster...what the hell is this idiot doing? We're in rough waters and we're in a pretty small boat. Is going faster really the answer? BOOM! BOOM! Water starts falling in from the ceiling, so I'm now soaked. BOOM! BA-BOOM! I start to hear screaming. What the bleepin' bleep is going on out there????
BOOM! BOOM! KA-BOOM! I stand low, bracing myself. I'm standing as low as I can (my Tai Chi teacher would be so proud), so I can keep my balance. BOOM! Crap....every time we go BOOM, my poor little body slams into the toilet, the sink, the wall. My ass and my back and my tailbone are the biggest targets. OW! OW! OW! I feel like a little ragdoll. And I'm going to be one freaking brusied little ragdoll. I start yelling, for no apparent reason, as no one can hear me. So, I'm standing there, like an idiot, with my bikini bottoms kinda on, kinda not on, my tank top on, and my bag of clothes around my wrist, clinging onto the sink and standing as low as I can, trying to avoid getting my ass/tailbone/back slammed into the toilet/wall, but I'm very unsuccessful. BOOM! KA-BOOM! Body slam! More water pours in from up above....I hear more people screaming. Are we taking in water? What is going on???
How the hell am I going to get out of here? I can't let go of the sink long enough to unlock the door and open it. If I open it, that means I won't be holding on to anything, and I'll be going flying into the stairs of the boat, probably head first, with my luck. But if I stay put, I'll keep getting battered by the toilet/wakll and I might hit my head or something, and if I'm knocked out, no one's going to come to get me, as I'm locked in from the inside....I focus on the strong desire to get out of here and smack Tool around the face.
20 minutes later, I manage to let go long enough to get the hell out of there. I, of course, fall into the stairs, stagger up them, and clumsily make my way to a spot to sit down. Everyone is clinging to their seats, most people are looking fairly green. I shoot death stares at Tool, but he is oblivious. While I am pissed off at this idiot for telling me to go into the damn bathroom in these horrible boating conditions, I am damn pleased to be alive, conscious, and not bleeding. Meanwhile, I still have to get my bikini top on, and I sure as hell am not going back down there. So, I somehow get my bikini top on in full view of the other passengers, with only my tank top to block me. I so don't give a damn, it's not even funny.
I don't get mad very often, but when I do, watch out. My dream at this point is to punch Tool in the face repeatedly and then lock him up in the bathroom while I drive the boat, hitting every bad wave at every bad angle. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. But I take deep breaths and decide to chill out. The freakin' 'tour' hasn't even started yet and I'm not going to let this bastard ruin my day. Plus, there's no way for me to be calm about this....if I talk to him about it now, I'm going to have to use some, well...not very nice words and it's gonna be a LONG day. So, I settle down, focus on all the beautiful things we're going to see that day, and mentally store all my expletives for a nice long letter I'm going to write to him when I get back to Sydney.
So, I experience the rest of the stomach-lurching ride from up above. At least the seats are padded here. More screams, a young girl tries to stand up for a second and flies across to the other side of the boat, the mother freaks out. I've never EVER had motion sickness in my life and I've been on my fair share of rough boat rides, but even my stomach is not the happiest. Meanwhile, Tool is still obvlious. He's got some fancy schmancy souped-up chair and a seatbelt and not a care in the world. He couldn't care less about kids and tourguides flying to the other sides of the boat or nearly falling out of the boat. That rat bastard!
Anyhoo, we get to slighly less choppy waters and this 12 year old-ish looking girl needs to use the loo. I try to stop her. "NO! Don't go! It's not safe! Please, wait till we get there." She just smiles at me and staggers away....of course she has no idea what I'm saying. I yell at one of the guides to translate to her and she just tells the girl to be careful. 15 minutes later, the girl staggers back out, looking absolutely traumatised. And these are better waters than before. The poor thing is pale and sickly looking and she has a lone tear running down her face. I want to hug her and tell her that I know what it's like.
Anyway, that's why I was in so sore. That is why I couldn't move on New Year's Eve. Trust me, if you did a really tense deep knee bend for a half an hour while getting beaten up by a toilet, you'd be a bit sore too. ;-) So, it wasn't SandMaster, it was, "Trying To Stay Upright, Conscious, and Un-Slammable in the Loo." Most hardcore workout of my life. ;-) Anyhoo, the point is, despite me being hurt and sunburn and sore and all, I had a fabulous time in Western Australia...I've fully recovered from the soreness, and the bruises on my ass/back are healing nicely, but I'm still working on the random sunburn....my left leg looks like I have the Mich.ael Jac.kson skin disorder. And I still have the one damn ring of sunburn on my left thigh. Totally looks like a garter belt. A gater belt of sunburn. It was all worth it though - WA is a gorgeous place - I would recommend to all of you...just remember never to go the bathroom on a moving boat, and make sure you get a full wetsuit (and not a half one like me) so your sunscreen doesn't come off randomly while you're snorkelling so you don't get the oddest sunburn designs on your legs! ;-)
A Perth Holiday Adventure, by B-Fly
Okay, so remember when I was whinging about being too sore and in pain to actually move and didn't want to go out on New Year's Eve, yadda yadda yadda? Well here's why. As mentioned in previous blogs, I had gone sand-surfing/sledding last Saturday morning. Climbing up the huge sand dunes was just a primer. That's where my legs got a bit sore. This story is about how they got really sore. What I like about this story is that, for once, it has nothing to do with me being in really bad shape. It was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, being told the wrong thing but a complete tool. You know, that sort of thing....I feel like Sophia from the Golden Girls...."Imagine this....Sicily, 1942...."
Imagine this....Perth, Western Australia, Monday morning, December 30th, 2002. 5.30am. I'm supposed to be on a tour to Carnac and Rottnest Islands. I haul my tired ass out of my bunk bed to go take a shower in the Funk Motel (more about that later). The last thing I want to do is put on my bikini before 6am in the bleeping morning. Surely I can just get dressed and put my bathing suit on before we get to the first island, right? I won't be the only dork who doesn't have their bathing suit on at 6am, right?
7am. On the boat in Freemantle. At this moment in time, I am the only English speaking tourist in the boat. This is a first, and I have to say, it was pretty interesting to be in the minority, for once (more about this later too!) Everyone else on the tour only speaks Japanese. Thankfully we have a Japanese guide. She is nice. We also have Mr. Tool. I don't remember his real name, but he is the ass who is piloting the godforsaken boat. "Does everyone have their bathing suits on?" (Followed by translation in Japanese.) Everyone nods. DOH! I'm the only loser who doesn't have the bathing suit on underneath my clothes currently. Tool gives me a LOOK and tells me to go put my bathing suit on in the bathroom while we make our way to Carnac Island. Fine. Personally, I think it's a little too early for someone to have his bad attitude, but whatever.
So, I grab my bikini and make my way to the loo. I get inside and lock the door. This is definitely the smallest bathroom I've ever been in. It's just a stall, with a tiny sink and a toilet. No worries, I just need to put on my bikini and it's smooth sailing...um, not quite...I'm trying to get my bikini bottom on, but I keep falling over. There's absolutely nothing to hold on to. No bar, nothing. The best I can do is kinda cling to the sink to steady myself. The boat is swaying from side to side. Hard. Then the boat starts bobbing up and down. Very very hard. Ba-BOOM. Ba-BOOM. We start going faster and faster. This only increases the violent smacks of the boat on the water. Forget the freaking bathing suit, I'm worried about not getting hurt. We go even faster...what the hell is this idiot doing? We're in rough waters and we're in a pretty small boat. Is going faster really the answer? BOOM! BOOM! Water starts falling in from the ceiling, so I'm now soaked. BOOM! BA-BOOM! I start to hear screaming. What the bleepin' bleep is going on out there????
BOOM! BOOM! KA-BOOM! I stand low, bracing myself. I'm standing as low as I can (my Tai Chi teacher would be so proud), so I can keep my balance. BOOM! Crap....every time we go BOOM, my poor little body slams into the toilet, the sink, the wall. My ass and my back and my tailbone are the biggest targets. OW! OW! OW! I feel like a little ragdoll. And I'm going to be one freaking brusied little ragdoll. I start yelling, for no apparent reason, as no one can hear me. So, I'm standing there, like an idiot, with my bikini bottoms kinda on, kinda not on, my tank top on, and my bag of clothes around my wrist, clinging onto the sink and standing as low as I can, trying to avoid getting my ass/tailbone/back slammed into the toilet/wall, but I'm very unsuccessful. BOOM! KA-BOOM! Body slam! More water pours in from up above....I hear more people screaming. Are we taking in water? What is going on???
How the hell am I going to get out of here? I can't let go of the sink long enough to unlock the door and open it. If I open it, that means I won't be holding on to anything, and I'll be going flying into the stairs of the boat, probably head first, with my luck. But if I stay put, I'll keep getting battered by the toilet/wakll and I might hit my head or something, and if I'm knocked out, no one's going to come to get me, as I'm locked in from the inside....I focus on the strong desire to get out of here and smack Tool around the face.
20 minutes later, I manage to let go long enough to get the hell out of there. I, of course, fall into the stairs, stagger up them, and clumsily make my way to a spot to sit down. Everyone is clinging to their seats, most people are looking fairly green. I shoot death stares at Tool, but he is oblivious. While I am pissed off at this idiot for telling me to go into the damn bathroom in these horrible boating conditions, I am damn pleased to be alive, conscious, and not bleeding. Meanwhile, I still have to get my bikini top on, and I sure as hell am not going back down there. So, I somehow get my bikini top on in full view of the other passengers, with only my tank top to block me. I so don't give a damn, it's not even funny.
I don't get mad very often, but when I do, watch out. My dream at this point is to punch Tool in the face repeatedly and then lock him up in the bathroom while I drive the boat, hitting every bad wave at every bad angle. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. But I take deep breaths and decide to chill out. The freakin' 'tour' hasn't even started yet and I'm not going to let this bastard ruin my day. Plus, there's no way for me to be calm about this....if I talk to him about it now, I'm going to have to use some, well...not very nice words and it's gonna be a LONG day. So, I settle down, focus on all the beautiful things we're going to see that day, and mentally store all my expletives for a nice long letter I'm going to write to him when I get back to Sydney.
So, I experience the rest of the stomach-lurching ride from up above. At least the seats are padded here. More screams, a young girl tries to stand up for a second and flies across to the other side of the boat, the mother freaks out. I've never EVER had motion sickness in my life and I've been on my fair share of rough boat rides, but even my stomach is not the happiest. Meanwhile, Tool is still obvlious. He's got some fancy schmancy souped-up chair and a seatbelt and not a care in the world. He couldn't care less about kids and tourguides flying to the other sides of the boat or nearly falling out of the boat. That rat bastard!
Anyhoo, we get to slighly less choppy waters and this 12 year old-ish looking girl needs to use the loo. I try to stop her. "NO! Don't go! It's not safe! Please, wait till we get there." She just smiles at me and staggers away....of course she has no idea what I'm saying. I yell at one of the guides to translate to her and she just tells the girl to be careful. 15 minutes later, the girl staggers back out, looking absolutely traumatised. And these are better waters than before. The poor thing is pale and sickly looking and she has a lone tear running down her face. I want to hug her and tell her that I know what it's like.
Anyway, that's why I was in so sore. That is why I couldn't move on New Year's Eve. Trust me, if you did a really tense deep knee bend for a half an hour while getting beaten up by a toilet, you'd be a bit sore too. ;-) So, it wasn't SandMaster, it was, "Trying To Stay Upright, Conscious, and Un-Slammable in the Loo." Most hardcore workout of my life. ;-) Anyhoo, the point is, despite me being hurt and sunburn and sore and all, I had a fabulous time in Western Australia...I've fully recovered from the soreness, and the bruises on my ass/back are healing nicely, but I'm still working on the random sunburn....my left leg looks like I have the Mich.ael Jac.kson skin disorder. And I still have the one damn ring of sunburn on my left thigh. Totally looks like a garter belt. A gater belt of sunburn. It was all worth it though - WA is a gorgeous place - I would recommend to all of you...just remember never to go the bathroom on a moving boat, and make sure you get a full wetsuit (and not a half one like me) so your sunscreen doesn't come off randomly while you're snorkelling so you don't get the oddest sunburn designs on your legs! ;-)