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Secret Hotels and Pants

Or how Ryan Reynolds came to be waiting in my bedroom in a Sydney Hotel.

Toodle pip, Happy Hobos

Today I am home sick in bed and to stave off the frustration and whiny-ness that comes with suffering from a mutated strain of Man Flu, we are going to reminisce about a particularly wonderful moment during a short wandering to Sydney last year.

Tip for beginners:  Hotels want to create the best experience possible for you.  Run with that.

My good friend and I had planned a trip to the city to see Nickelback (don’t judge.  I love them and nothing you can say will sway me in my undying affection for all things Nickelback.)  She bought the tickets for us for my birthday and it was my job to book the accommodation.  So I jumped online to find us a place to stay in the city.  I ended up booking a mystery hotel in an area that was suitable to get us the nicest accommodation at the best price.

With the concert on a Friday night it was an almost interminable wait to get through the work day to be able to leave.  Not even the torrential rain that had set in could dampen our sprits (see what I did there?)

Straight on to Facebook to send my excitement to Lois.

J: “I have tickets!”
L: “Wooooo I love tickets!
Also pants if they are dry.”
L: “I can’t leave without pants, can I?”
J: “Pants? Where weren’t going we don’t need pants.
…..I may have gotten my Back to the Future quote slightly wrong.  But the sentiment still stands.”

pre_concert_texts copy

Long story short: Torrential rain.  Wet pants.  Left late but still in fine spirits.

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