Australia

Suffering ‘Heavy Baggage Jokes’ Enroute to Adelaide, Australia


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John is sleeping in well past his normal 6 a.m. rise.

Even so, we have an early rise and early breakfast. We have hot and muggy weather again and the good people of Sydney are complaining about it!! All we have to do is mention the temperature at home, including the wind chill. Silence quickly descends and all complaining stops. We have completely repacked our suitcases to accommodate our next month on the road with first stops in Adelaide and are leaving the two smaller suitcases at our hotel. They aren’t charging us for the storage! And we won’t be staying at Sullivans when we return! Crikey, nice people down under. (Actually, I haven’t heard one Australian use the word ‘Crikey’. In fact no one says ‘Crikey’ here. Wrong country.)

Bad ‘Heavy Baggage’ Jokes

We suffer bad ‘heavy baggage’ jokes from our driver, and head to the airport for an early afternoon flight to Adelaide aboard Virgin Blue. Despite leaving lots of baggage behind, we get charged ($10 each) for “excess luggage”.

“Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls” a cheeky Australian voice greets us as we get on the plane. John tells me at check-in that Virgin Blue has revolutionized the “low cost, no frills” airline industry in Australia. They seem to be having a lot of fun with the revolution. After the 2 hour flight, we arrive in dreary, hick town Adelaide (the capital of the State of South Australia) with hordes of end-of-summer-vacation-now-it’s-back-to-school, whiney kids, with parents in tow. We expect little – all of the Australians we talked to in Sydney expressed surprise that anyone would go to Adelaide voluntarily.

We check into quite a glamorous new hotel that John found on the internet (a pillow menu, Jacqueline!) and head out for a dreary beer, anticipating an even drearier dinner. Thursday evening doesn’t seem to be a happening night in Ol’ Adelaide. John says “oh my God, it’s like London!” (Ontario).

We end up having quite a good feed of Greek food at, get this, (major trivia answer here) “The Original Barbecue Inn”. Fans of the great Australian TV Soap of the 1970’s “Number 96” often pay homage to the actress Chantal Contouri (aka “the panty-hose murderer”) who owns the joint. We unfortunately (or fortunately), don’t run into her.

After such a fortuitous introduction to Adelaide, we have nothing else to look forward to except bed. And we jump into it.

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