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HOLIDAY BLUES

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Article by Phil Brown

Phil Brown - Journalist - Author Profile | Email | Website
Phil Brown - Journalist - Author As a journalist I am a senior writer with News Queensland. As an author I write about myself and, if that sounds self-indulgent, you don't know the half of it. Mind you if you read either of my memoirs - Travels with My Angst or Any Guru Will Do, all will be revealed.
Available as Speaker - humorist focusing on problems associated with existential angst and life's journey.
Brisbane
QLD
Australia 2000
Please e-mail

HOLIDAY BLUES

I’m sure you would be bored to sobs if I recounted the highlights of my recent overseas holiday. I might regale you with the disasters instead?

It all began on the flight to Hong Kong, sitting next to the Russian version of a complete yobbo. This bloke was talking loudly on his mobile phone as we were taxiing for take-off. I threatened to call the cabin crew but he protested: “I am just calling my wife in Moscow.”

“Mate, I don’t care if you’re calling Vladimir bloody Putin, turn your phone off!” I insisted. He relented and then told his mates what a dickhead I was - I may not speak Russian but I got the gist. Then he proceeded to inhale nine cans of beer and 32 of those little packets of peanuts (I counted them) they give you on airplanes.

As we descended into Honkers he tried to make another phone call and I went ballistic so he waited until we were taxiing to the terminal to make his call, which was still against regulations. My wife and son sat in the row behind looking bemused.

In Hong Kong things went largely to plan and I think I may have actually had had less meltdowns than I normally do on vacation.

There was, however, that awful moment at the Macau Ferry terminal when I realised I had left my credit card with reception back at the hotel. After much effing and blinding I was able to get a cab to fetch it and we still made the ferry.

In Macau we were taken on a tour of the old city and I can’t remember ever being so hot. Our guide seemed to ignore my pleas for a drinks break and I got so overheated my eyeballs were perspiring.

When our host took us to a seaside Portuguese restaurant for lunch I managed one sardine and when a plate piled high with pork arrived it was all I could do not to vomit onto my placemat.

I recovered in time for the ride back to Kowloon on a jetfoil ferry. It wasn’t until we were in our seats that we realised the number 3 typhoon signal had been hoisted but by then it was too late. For the first half hour it was like being on the spin cycle in a washing machine.

After recovering from that ordeal we were treated to a banquet at Spring Moon restaurant at The Peninsula, Hong Kong’s swankiest hotel which is still there, thankfully, despite my son’s best efforts to burn the joint down.

When he went to the loo our boy tossed his napkin onto a candle without realising it. My wife and I were chatting and sipping Pu-erh tea when we noticed staff running towards us in panic.

By this stage the napkin was well alight and smoke was rising from the table but luckily they got it out before the fire alarm or sprinklers started up.

I could tell you about the good stuff too but that wouldn’t be nearly as interesting, would it?

11 Jul 2013

Article/Information supplied by Phil Brown

Disclaimer - Any general advice given in any article should not be relied upon and should not be taken as a substitute for visiting a qualified medical Doctor.

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