PACKING…

The PACKING bit of the trip does my head in every time! And it’s not actually the packing! I’m the thinker out of Gerry and I. I work out what I actually NEED to wear each day. I count my undies and socks etc. Plus, I don’t mind using the app “PackPoint”, it doesn’t make some crazy suggestions but you can just cancel them out.

Gerry on the other hand usually pulls everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, out of her cupboard, piles it all up on the bed and then makes smaller piles of ‘maybes’, and a pile of ‘If I can fit it’ and a small discarded pile.

Being the thinker, I’ve set up the spare room for random piles. Only because the piles on the bed prevent me from going to sleep. It usually takes a far amount of effort to relocate the pile to another location. BUT about an hour before the transfer or uber is due to pick us up for the airport piles are stuffed frantically in a backpacks and zips are bursting at the seams. Then questions and screaming matches about what else I can fit in MY BAG, because it doesn’t all fit in her bag (Gerry’s). Then I refuse and walk away to do something; only to return and find the sneaky turd stuffing more clothes into my bag. THEN it’s the age old conversation –
Gerry, “You have to take both toiletry bags”.
Scary, “No”
Gerry, “But I don’t have any room in my bag”!
Scary, “well take something out”
Gerry, “But you have room in your bag”!
Scary, “No I don’t”!
Gerry, “PLEASE HELP ME!”

Usually by this stage it’s 5mins before our lift arrives and I start throwing around threats of missing flights and ubers boys waiting blah blah blah…. but it always get to close to call so I conceded defeat stuff some God forsaken bloody thing in my bag and drag Gerry out of the house.
This trip will most likely be no exception!
Sporty and Posh had their own banter of packing. Sporty made this declaration the other day….

Sporty – “By the way Posh I sleep nude”.
Posh – “oh god, I’m gunna have to go to Aldi and get one of those onesy sleeping bags so your pink bits don’t touch me”.

Thank God for Mumma Bear Posh cracking the whip over Gerry because at 11pm she still had clothes covering the bed! Some major over packing went on, but the chooks settled down for a bit of shut eye. The shut eye was short, after a measly 4 hours sleep on ‘the roost’, Gerry’s alarm went off and her feet hit the floor like she’d shit the bed at 4.00am! We’d been spoilt the night before with a few bottles of wine and Sporty’s wife’s rich Duck and Lucee Curry with salad and rice. OMG talk about sex in you mouth, it was SO DELICIOUS! I avoided the over indulgence in the vino thankfully because I had to drive, but the other chooks were a bit slower to move. Sporty woke up not know how she got into our spare room and had no clue which door to get out of to get to the loo.

And after a shower and as I predicted I heard this coming from the bedroom, “HEY, your gunna have to put all the toiletries in your bag”! And like a prewritten script the same thing ran out like every other trip! Then minutes later Gerry realised she’d left ANOTHER beanie, a pair of socks and a scarf sitting on the bed, “Hunny! Can you please put them some where in your bag”.
Scary, “NO! Put em in your carry on”.
Gerry, “Oh hunny help me, can you put this in yours too (holding her white BULKY Billabong jumper)”!
Scary, “You wont need that, you have enough jumpers”.
Gerry, “But its my favourite”.
Posh, “Ya sure you’ve got enough scarves”? (Strategic stink eye from Scary, shot firmly in the direction of POSH!)

Then the realisation of just how bad of an over backer Gerry is became a clear reality to Sporty and Posh.

We had Gerry in the car by 5.02am, Frank (the transfer driver had bashed down the door at 4.50am), not bad at all considering other trips.

We had a bag weigh off at the check in. Sporty and her duffle bag weighed in a tiny 11kg, Posh and I were 15.6 and 15.7 …. and Gerry clocked up, 14.6kg. It had to be a false read! HAD TO BE!!!

And so we were off! We got to the airport with plenty of time and fossicked around for coffee and breakfast. There is one other rule that Gerry and I have. Once we are flight side at the begining of any trip I have to take over, because she balls times up.

For example, we were sitting in a coffee place talking shit when one of the girls asked what time was take off and Gerry says, “Na we’ve got ages, we don’t take off till 6.40am”. So I said, “Yeah but we have to board before that if that our take off time”. Defiant Gerry says, “NO, it’s 6.40”.

I produced my boarding pass and pointed at it, “We board at 6.10 and its 12 past 6”.

Run Forest Run!!! So we all hustled to gate 29 and jumped on the end of the queue.

I’m not sure what the rest of them did but I was out for the count for most of the flight!