I do believe yesterday was the longest day ever. I know this because when I was standing in the check-in line at the airport trying not to vomit, time had slowed almost to a stand still. I say almost because I am sure the ground was swaying. Or perhaps my internal organs were trying to escape the fifteen litres of champagne I’d consumed the night before at the Kidspot Top 50 Bloggers cocktail party.
This journey started with a dawn dash to the airport. I exited from my car and skipped across the car park, happy and carefree. I was as light as a feather. I was powering along excited about my trip to Sydney. I had left my luggage in the car. I should have realised then the universe was trying to tell me something. It was trying to tell me to stay at home and not to drink 25 bottles of champagne.
Anyway, I got to Sydney (after waking myself a number of times snorting in my sleep during the plane ride). I checked into my hotel. It was gothic chic and little bit porno, without the porn. Then I headed straight to the new Zara shop. This is when I was given my next “you should’ve stayed at home” sign. I was trapped in this alternate universe of dodgy clothes and crazed women grabbing at dresses and elbowing other women out the way to get their sweaty hands on finger-print stained silk dresses. I knew I was going nutty when I found myself caressing a pair of lurid green, skinny jeans and actually thinking they would look good my size 16 arse. I ran screaming from the store: “Kick me in the shins, to distract me from the pain in my eyes from staring at bad florals and too many leopard print dresses”. My eyes burning, I wandered around the streets of Sydney like a crazed, paranoid, highly strung, middle-aged woman. Oh wait, I am a crazed, paranoid, highly strung, middle-aged woman.
The only way to fix that problem was to go to a cocktail party and drink the room’s weight in champagne. Well, that’s what I thought at the time. I had one of those glasses of champagne which never ended. The waiters got nervous when they could see my glass draining to the halfway mark and would scurry over and quickly refill my glass. Next time I might suggest that they instead intravenously connect me to a barrel of bubbly.
There was much animated conversing with other bloggers who I am in awe. There was much guffawing. I was ON FIRE. I was talking A LOT. I was not a good advertisement for responsible drinking. I was practically pouring whole bottles of champagne down my throat every ten minutes. I even ran down cobbled streets and spent much time in an uber cool, little bar. And then I even somehow got from that bar to a another not so cool pub. I say somehow because I actually have no recollection of how I got there. I do have a vague memory of being told it was probably time I went home as perhaps I would regret my morning flight. I refused. I purchased a keg of cider, drank three sips and was then bundled into a cab back to my porn pad.
After a five second sleep I was awake and bounding with energy. I was surprised by how great I felt. I was congratulating myself on managing to meet my fellow bloggers in the lobby to share a cab to the airport. I WAS STILL DRUNK. I was on a slippery slope down to the depths of hangover hell. I had embarked on what I now refer to as The. Longest. Day. Ever. Pretty much the entire day can be categorised as – the moment I nearly vomited in the taxi, the moment I nearly vomited at the check-in desk, the moment I nearly vomited in my plane seat. The moment I nearly vomited in my car. And the moment I walked in the door and had to resume parenting duties and nearly vomited on the baby.
This story would be bad enough as is, but my husband, three girls and I had a big decision to make. It was a momentous day in our world. We finalised the purchase of our new home. I had conversations with our banker, the building inspector and the shonkiest real estate agent in the universe. I nearly vomited on all them too. While my husband celebrated with a nice glass of wine. I fought the urge to vomit on him.
It was officially the longest day ever. And the last time I will ever drink alcohol. *ahem*
PS: It followed what was a fantastic evening hosted by the fabulous Kidspot team who so kindly flew me to Sydney. A meeting of some of the funniest and most generous women I’ve met. The most fun I’ve had on a Monday night in a long time. It was a celebration of Australia’s rich and vibrant blogging community. It is also a competition. Pity it’s not a champagne drinking competition as I would have won for sure. Alas it’s not, so if you get a moment can you please vote for me in the Top 50 Bloggers competition.