PINK09

I think it's time that I told y'all about PINK09. I remember it like it happened on Wednesday the 20th of August 2008.....................

We were driving. Where from, and where to, are unimportant; mere details that distract from the big picture. For those of you familiar with the local geography, though, it should also suffice to say that we were on riversdale road, driving towards elgar road and were just approaching warrigal road. In front of us there was a car. It was a VW Beetle (not one of the oldskool ones still produced in mexico today by a different company, but one of the new, shiny 'semi-circle' varieties). 

It was also a bright - and, might I say, lovely - shade of pink. The licence plate read "PINK09" and the car was registered to pink hygiene, a company that supplies washroom services to many reputable organisations. Tonight, however, the pink coloring on this VW Beetle was taking on a new shade... the shade of violence.

The driver of the car was a male in his mid-twenties. Standing tall at just under six feet (or 180-ish centimeters), he wore clothes that fit him well considering his physiology and there was, apparently, murder in his heart.

You see, males such as myself often seem to revert to a state of primordial ooze in which we must be big and tough and, above all, manly! Unfortunately, it seemed that the driver of PINK09 did not feel that his manly glow - that no doubt usually oozes from his pores with testosterone-like efficiency - was radiating with its usual efficacy whilst he was driving a small pink beetle that advertised sanitary disposal units for female bathrooms. 

So, how does he make up for it? He drives like a veritable madman. He is hitting his horn at every available opportunity, swerving between cars and he even tried to force another car into an accident by driving alongside a tram until the last possible second and then swerving in front of it as parked cars approached (thereby forcing the cars behind him to brake suddenly).

So, there's me driving my 2001 corolla with three absolute babes in the car with me and I succumb to my own need for manliness / attention and I decide to give this PINK09 a taste of his own medicine. The second the lights turn green to cross warrigal road I let my horn fly at him! 

He takes off, apparently ignoring my little jest. The ladies in the car are laughing and I get a nice hit of "good vibes". So we follow him and the afore-mentioned tram stops at its next stop and, to his credit, Mr. Pink (as I shall now call him) stops as he should. The second the tram's doors close I let my horn fly a second time. More laughter in my car and, again, he tears off into the distance.

Little did I know that he was becoming consumed by a powerful rage that would nearly lead to my death (not really).

We travel down the rest of riversdale road unfettered, before taking the short left-right hop onto station street. We are waiting to turn right when the light turns green and, i must confess, I smacked my horn down a third time, hoping for a similar reception on all counts.

The next thing I know Mr. Pink has leapt out of his car (with such speed that one could question whether he had removed his seatbelt for just such an occasion) and taken what can only be described as a menacing step in our direction. 

Now, it's possible that he wished to converse with me regarding the pros and cons of horn-honking over a friendly game of backgammon.

It's more likely that he wanted to kick my ass.

However, as threatening as he might have appeared if he had climbed out of an army tank with his chainsaw in one hand, a cigarette in the other and a few dinosaurs as backup, what actually happened was that he climbed out of a pink beetle with PINK09 on the licence plate and a vaguely menacing expression on his face; and so the effect was more comical than anything else. 

Cool as a cucumber, I throw the 'rolla into reverse and shoot backwards a few meters. There are no other cars around. This seemed to help him realise that I could easily drive around him and so he got back into his car, turn right onto station street and then pulled over and waited for me to turn as well.

Luckily, my mama didn't raise no fool so I waited for him to drive off, which he eventually did, and we continued the drive home uninterrupted.

Now whilst I don't condone aggravating insecure men in small, pink cars, it is definitely a giggle. 

If you ever see Mr. Pink on the road, give him a toot from me.

Peace out!

Lessons of a Lost Wallet

I lost my wallet on Christmas morning. To be more specific, I realised that I couldn't find my wallet at about 6:35 AM on Christmas morning after waking up, having a shower and finishing my packing for the flight to Adelaide I needed to be on at 8:15.

This wallet was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere. I searched every cupboard, bag, bench and surface I could find. I checked the pantry, I checked giant gap where the washing machine used to be, I checked my ex-housmates' old rooms and, in a final act that could very well be the hallmark of desperation, I checked in the water tray of my evaporative air conditioner.

I made my flight by the narrowest of margins because I didn't have to wait at any red lights between my house and tullamarine airport. That's right; if I had had to stop at just ONE red light I wouldn't have been on that plane.

Although, it could also be said that if I hadn't spent just under 45 minutes trying to find my missing wallet, I would have made it with plenty of time to spare. You see, I actually set myself up for a fall and I'm going to tell you how.

I have a friend who was coming with me to the airport so she could use my car while I was away. I rang her and explained that my wallet was missing and, for some reason, I said to her that I wouldn't be able to get on the flight without my driver's licence. The thing is, as I said this I knew it wasn't exactly true. 

Firstly, it was a domestic flight with relatively lax security. Secondly, I had already checked in online and, thirdly, I already had my boarding pass. On top of all of this my passport was about three feet away from me the whole time that I was searching my room.

All of this was irrelevant, however, because the second that I said I couldn't get on the flight without my driver's licence, my mind committed itself to the lie. I, after that split-second of doubt, believed my own words to be true. As a result of this I spent 40 minutes searching for my wallet - all the while focussing on what i couldn't do rather than what I could do. 

If I had just stopped after, say, 15 minutes, accepted that my wallet was beyond my immediate reach and started thinking of ways that I could get on that flight rather than reasons I couldn't, it would have immediately occured ot me to get my passport and get out of the house.

(Even though I didn't need ID to get on the flight, it would have been imprudent at best not to take some with me).

It was on a phone call with my dad, in which I was explaining why I would be unable to make it to Adelaide for Christmas this year, that he asked the innocuous question that shifted my perspective back where it should be: "Do you have any other forms of I.D?"

Snap.

I've known for a long time that one must focus on what one can do in life, and on finding ways to do things, rather than focussing on what we can't do and why. But when the heat was on I got cooked.

Still, I happily made it to Adelaide and back in one piece and even found my wallet when I got home. I walked in the door, put my bag down in the loungeroom and walked into my bedroom. Without really thinking about it I lifted up my mattress and there was my wallet. If you had just tuned in you'd have thought I knew where it was all along.

The reason that I found the wallet so easily is because I had spent the better part of four days thinking about it and where it could be. While I still hadn't come to any conclusions, my subconcious mind had figured out the only place it could be based on past cirumstances (it is actually plausible that my wallet was there because I wore trackies to bed the night before my flight and could have forgotten to take it out of my pocket) and directed me straight there once I was home.

I would have avoided a lot of undue stress just by focussing on what I needed (ID) and what tools I had to get some (go to my drawer and get my passport). I.E, I should have focused on what I can do.