One Month in Oz
My high school graduation gift: My Dad and I went to Australia for nearly an entire month. I was ecstatic! We have a blast, I get to dive, drive on the wrong side of the road/car and then we head to Surfers Paradise so I can get me surf on.

The entire time we are hearing radio stories about "Stay away from the shellfish" as there is some micro-organism that is making folks sick. So, fast-forward to Surfers Paradise: My Dad and I go to dinner and what does he order? The Fried Shellfish Basket.

5 hours later I hear him in the bathroom of our hotel room...both ends, ripping it up. Then I hear this loud thud and I rush to the bathroom. He has passed out and whacked his head, right by the temple WIDE open. Much blood, vomit everywhere.

Australia didnt have a "911" number so I had to get the yellow pages and call an ambulance service. The next morning and 8 stitches later, we return to our hotel from the hospital and the hotel manager has moved all our bags and everything to a brand new room. I imagine there is nothing like being a hotel manager and being woken up at 3am by some Yank Lifeguard SCREAMING "SOMEONE CALL E.M.S.!" (which is what the Red Cross teaches lifeguards to scream before they enter a pool to retrieve some non-swimming git)

I fookin' love Aussies.

Sic Semper Tyrranis!

Sean
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 22:35, Reply)