JEREMY CORBETT
It’s always darkest before the dawn. Until I realised it wasn’t dark, I was just wearing my sunglasses. I realised I should put my normal glasses on – I’m not Corey Hart. I was inside Melbourne International Airport Terminal 2 where security and immigration like to see the whites of your eyes.
Then I realised I had left my glasses sitting in the taxi, which had just driven off. I ran back outside the terminal just in time to catch a glimpse of that yellow cab turning a corner and becoming instantly anonymous amongst the hundreds of other identical vehicles.
I imagined my glasses sitting on the back seat grinning. Elated I had forgotten them, they could now go on a wild adventure around Melbourne. I froze. I needed normal glasses so I could see things such as in- ight movies and the immigration man, who has now morphed into immigration computer and become even harder to reason with.
The receipt! It would have information. It did… GMCabs Australia. I searched the internet for their number, but was interrupted by Wi-Fi networks popping up and asking me to join. Digital proselytisers! Out of my nger’s way! Every second counted. The longer it took me to alert the driver, the more dollars away he would get.
My rst move was stupid. I searched for some sort of of ce line where someone might help me. Idiot! Company websites have a link labelled “Contact”.
AN ACT OF KINDNESS PUTS JEREMY IN AN EXCEEDINGLY GOOD MOOD
It’s not. It never is. It takes you somewhere to ll in forms so they don’t have to pay a human. They should relabel that thing to “We’re Not
Home. Do it yourself.”
Luckily, taxi companies need a phone number to drum up business.
Surprisingly, just three phone calls and, two very helpful Australian women later, I had my man.
I called him. He had my glasses and said he’d be ve minutes away, which surprisingly it was. He pulled up where he’d dropped me, smiled and handed me my glasses.
They were not smiling.
Their adventure had been cut short. Back to sitting on Jeremy’s nose for them!
I offered to pay the cab driver for the inconvenience and he laughingly waved me away, putting a positive cherry on top of the relief pie I was already enjoying. I told him I hoped the karma doubled and came back to him.
As I strode back into Terminal 2, I realised I felt happier and more energised than the rst time I’d walked in. Yes, because I had my goggles back, but also largely because of the wonderful treatment I’d received.
I thought what a happier planet it would be if more people made that simple effort. And what a better planet it would be if morons made the other simple effort to check they have all their stupid belongings before they alight from their cab.