Like real men, stupidly we never ask directions
YOU’D think we’d learn by now after all these years.
Mick and I have been travelling on holidays for something like 30 years, and I can’t remember one trip ever being incident free.
Last weekend, the two of us set off for the Gold Coast to catch up with a mate of ours for a few days.
Last time we went to see Robert (Warmup as he is known) at Surfers Paradise we didn’t even get out of Toowoomba before getting lost – somehow we ended up on Prince Henry Drive, I’m still not sure how.
“Where’s the range?” Mick had asked.
Anyway, with a bit of research and planning, I assured Mick we’d be okay this time, and we set off with some confidence, but of course with no map or directions.
And as Aussie men, we’re not about to ask for directions.
Feeling relaxed and settled after a few lemonades in a yellow can, I couldn’t help but nod off.
No worries, I’d told Mick, “Just follow the signs that say Southport or Surfers Paradise and we’ll be fine.
“Remember, if you see the Sydney Harbour Bridge than we’ve probably overshot the turn-off.”
Little did I know how prophetic that quip would be.
Warmup rang to see how we were travelling – literally – and we said we were about an hour away and all was fine as we chugged along the Gold Coast highway.
“How can we get lost from here?” Mick said, stupidly tempting fate.
Now, my lack of communication (being asleep) seemed to have told Mick that meant that we were on the right track, he not realising I was actually asleep.
I woke to find us on the highway but not as I knew it.
“Mick, how come there are no signs saying ‘Surfers Paradise’ or ‘Southport’,” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I’ve been wondering about that too.”
Suddenly, up ahead was a sign that announced “Welcome to New South Wales”.
“What the…?”
“Ring Warmup,” Mick suggested. “What good will that do, when we have no idea where we are,” I replied.
Eventually, as we travelled through Tweed Heads, I thought maybe it’s time to turn off somewhere.
“Have you ever been to Palm Beach, Mick?” I asked.
“No,” he replied.
“Well, it’s up ahead.” Warmup couldn’t believe it. “Where are you?” when I told him we were not far south of the border, and we might be a little late on our estimated time of arrival at his place in Surfers Paradise.
We eventually headed north only to come across Premier Anna’s border stop.
“Oh great,” I thought, “We going to be quarantined for two weeks now”.
However, seeing our Queensland number plates, the cops just waved us through and we arrived safely at our destination – albeit 30 minutes later than we’d planned.
I have to report that the return trip was without the drama, and even though I swear I could see Redcliffe in the distance, we got back up the range relatively unscathed.
From now on, we’re going by bus.
SUDDENLY, UP AHEAD WAS A SIGN THAT ANNOUNCED ‘WELCOME TO NEW SOUTH WALES’.