After a two-year delay because of ‘Old Mate Covid’, the bride and I finally got to take our trip to Vietnam and Cambodia. This was to be the last leg of our 30th wedding anniversary celebrations.
For the early flight, we drove to Sydney the night before to beat the traffic. I’d booked a hotel online but on arrival discovered it was for a fortnight’s time. This took about 45 minutes to sort. After settling in and getting the ‘snore monster’ going, we were awoken at 2.30am by the fire alarm. We found all the other guests in the corridor, including the lovely lady across the hall in her neck to toe nightie, straight from the set of Little House on the Prairie. Reception said not to worry; I asked, should I not be worried about the alarm or the fire?
Next day there was a muck up with car parking (long story) but the result was dropping my wife off at the airport with the luggage and going 2km away to park the car and getting a shuttle back at a cost of over $260 for the 12 days.
On returning to the airport, I found my wife still at the back of the queue. She informed me that the booking system had gone down. An hour later, we finally got to check-in, only to find the plane was three hours late and we would miss connecting flight, but they would book us upon another flight.
The flight was pleasant with a bit of a nap; sure, there was a bit of dribble out the side of my mouth but nothing to boast about. After landing in Saigon we made our way to the domestic airport. The heat was confronting but the humidity, at around 100%, proved to be as uncomfortable as your parents sitting you down to explain the birds and the bees.
The airline had changed our connecting flight to Hanoi, but it also had a three-hour delay attached. The bathroom situation at the airport was unique as not only could you see the urinals from the main thoroughfare but they were as low as at the local preschool’s toilets, so I had to get into a ½ squat position for a quad-and-hamstring stretch.
We finally arrived in Hanoi and were greeted by 73 people holding signs with people’s names – none were for us. Our chap had not been told of the delays and had gone to the airport at 4pm. Fair to say, he was not keen to come back to pick us up as it was now approaching 1am. The guy at the info counter said he was finishing up and for a lazy $80 would drive us to the hotel. After witnessing a little fender bender and the aftermath of warring parties, we were on our way. Our new friend took us via all the back streets, resulting in the bride squeezing my hand harder than when she was giving birth to our son. After all the shenanigans we finally arrived at our hotel. We had been up for close to 24 hours.
I thought a quick freshen up would be nice. The day ended with me throwing my toothbrush into the vanity. It seemed in slow motion that it landed in the basin and, like a snowboard at a half-pike, slid down one face, only to reappear on the other side and go skyward. I watched helplessly as my toothbrush flew towards the toilet and, with one bounce off the seat, landed in the bowl.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Day One!
