In the bone chilling cold, it took (what felt like) forever to wake up, pack up and get back on the road again. We were all numb from head to toe and it felt like we’d been locked in a freezer overnight.
… but at least we had something good to look forward to. Three nights in a Bahrain hotel…
Yay!
That’s the only way I like camping.
Three nights in a lovely hotel… then one solitary night of camping… followed by three more nights in a lovely hotel.
If we could somehow manage to eliminate the “camping” part, life on the travelling road would be ideal. Kinda. Actually… if we’re being honest, if it came right down to the nitty gritty, I’d probably swap out 95% of the tour crew and keep the camping. Just sayin’…
I looked around, really contemplating my future in this truck with this crew.
I just don’t know if I have the strength. I’m struggling. It’s true.
The truck has been unusually quiet lately… and I know it’s due to the poor group dynamics. If a film crew were to step onto this bus and film a documentary, I have no doubt it would captivate audiences worldwide.
Full of such randoms…
Harald sits there with his arms crossed, speaking to himself the entire time we’re driving down the highway. I’ve started to suspect he might have some “special” needs. His entire demeanour reminds me of Mr. Bean… minus the intentional humour. Whenever he does speak, it’s with these odd, exaggerated facial expressions… particularly his enormous animated lips.
His peculiar mannerisms and one-word comments/questions are always accompanied by dramatic hand gestures and finger-pointing… making him seem more like a toddler trying to make sense of everything. I often get the impression that he has no idea what’s actually going on.
Then there’s Karen. Horrid Karen. Karen… bopping along with her bad hip and her shitty attitude… in her red valour and sparkle embroidery jumpsuit. Now it wouldn’t be too bad if she had purchased it as bedtime lounge wear… during the festive Christmas holiday season… but she wears it as every day casual attire. On top of it, she wears it while sporting an eccentric blonde ‘crazy hair’ wig. She looks like a cross between Crazy Barbie, a Wiggle and something out of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
It’s dreadful.
Mickey is still following Rosanna around like a lost puppy. She’s also still barking orders at us and if I have to hear “you people” used towards us in a derogatory manner one more time…
*here are a few of them… Mr. Bean, Lutz (asleep) and Persnickety with her “Choose Love” t-shirt that I originally thought said “Choose Life”… like Wham!
Lutz is still sitting in the same seat, playing with his tongue and sleeping for 93% of the trip. Norman is still positioning himself to be first off the truck… and then pushing us all aside so that he can be the first to get to anywhere we’re going. I looked that up, by the way… turns out it’s a bit of a psychological disease. I don’t know why I’m surprised… everyone on this trip seems to have some sort of disease or disorder.
”The “disease of always having to be first” often refers to a compulsive need to prioritize oneself above others, sometimes at the expense of relationships or collaboration. While it’s not a medical condition, this behavior can be linked to psychological traits such as narcissism, competitiveness, or insecurity.“
Interesting.
Marilyn… or as I will now refer to as Persnickety… doesn’t stop talking. It’s mental because if anyone else on the entire truck has a conversation, I can’t hear them. At all. Nothing. But as soon as her constant, irrelevant and draining drivel begins, it echoes through the entire truck. It grates on me… even if I’m wearing head phones…
Her voice is flat, monotone and devoid of any passion or engaging articulation… making her constant blah blah blah even more tiresome. Her ramblings are jam packed with repetition, complaints, unnecessary details and over-explained points that seem to go nowhere.
No.
Where.
She’s Uncle Colm from Derry Girls.
That’s her… yet… slightly more persnickety. And more negative. And more consumed by minor details. She’s like an itch that won’t go away. Persnickety Marilyn… who “has feelings too.” I’m still annoyed by that comment.
This tour…
Why???
When we passed through customs and into Bahrain, it wasn’t as much hassle as Qatar… but very, very close. The best part of the border crossing was the unexpected swag some of us received.
As we rolled up, we noticed a crowd of men clustered around one particular vehicle. There were photographers snapping pictures and other guys handing out gift bags. the whole scene had a paparazzi buzz. Naturally, we assumed someone famous was in the car, and we all craned our necks to catch a glimpse and figure out who it was.
It didn’t us take long to realize they weren’t gathered around a celebrity. They seemed to be handing out gifts to female drivers. Bizarre.
Not wanting to miss this prime opportunity, I slid open one of the back windows and beckoned them over to our vehicle. A few of us leaned out, waving… and before long, they were tossing up goodies to us… some kind of crunchy noodles & peanut mix and a couple of chocolates.
Martin started yelling at us to be careful with the windows, worried we’d damage them. But we weren’t causing any harm… and we scored free snacks. Totally worth it.
When we finally arrived at our hotel in Bahrain, the first thing that caught our attention was the tray of free dates in the entrance foyer. We darted for them. Looking back, we laughed at how none of us even acknowledged the hotel staff. Instead, we just made a beeline straight to the dates and stuffed ourselves.
What can we say?
We love dates.
Then came the pivotal moment. Rosanna read out the rooming list pairings…
It sucks… but I can hardly complain. I was the one who threw myself back in the mix in the first place.
“Joanna and… Marilyn.”
You’re kidding me…
F**k.
My.
Life.
Noooooo….
Could I get any worse right now? I immediately went into shock and started screaming in sheer horror… The sheer horror of having to share with Marilyn. There was no way in hell that I was going to be able to tolerate her!
Noooooo….!!!!
Ok.. I’m exaggerating, slightly. I didn’t start screaming… though I should have.
I should have flatly refused to share with her… but stupid me has already gone and pulled that move… and landed myself in enough hot water as a result.
Marilyn, who “has feelings too,” came right up to me and handed me my key and said, in the most accusatory and patronizing tone,“You’re with me. Is that ok with you?”
No… it’s not.
Not at all.
I was at the rockiest of rock bottom.
I wanted to run away as fast as I could, screaming bloody murder… but instead, I smiled sweetly and replied, in an equally as patronizing manner, “of course.”
Not sure if I’ve mentioned she’s persnickety. If I haven’t mentioned that yet… she is. I don’t actually think I’ve ever described someone as being persnickety… until now.
For anyone that is curious about the word,
“Persnickety refers to being overly fussy, particular or meticulous about small, often trivial, details. It can also describe someone who is excessively concerned with precision, cleanliness or formality. While it can sometimes imply attention to detail in a positive way, it often carries a slightly negative connotation, suggesting unnecessary or irritating fussiness.”
Marilyn to a tee.
I’d fallen as low as I could go… for the day. A pit of misery. The depths of despairs. She was horrible. Unbearable.
I sat on the bed in my hotel room, for a very long time, feeling sorry for myself. In one minute, I was absolutely set on leaving the tour… and then in another, I had made my mind up to stay. As my mind-making-up flip flopped, I checked out flights, hotels, pricing… and then cried a bit. And then I cried a bit more. How had I gotten myself involved in all this?
Shit.
What was there to do?
Get drunk.
Now… to be fair… turning to alcohol is not usually the best decision when you’re feeling down, questioning everything, stuck sharing a room with a gremlin… and still pissed off over a petty, drama-stirring comment they made a few days ago. Definitely not a great idea.
Buy rest assured… I didn’t do anything bad.
Not yet, anyway.
My mood began to shift for the better, as i discovered it was happy hour in the hotel lounge. I was thrilled to discover that wine was 2-for-1 between 4 and 8 PM. As if that wasn’t brilliant enough, it was also Monday… and Monday was ladies’ night. After 8 PM, every woman got THREE free drinks. From 4 PM onward, it was wine for wine, wine for wine… and then wine… wine, wine, wine!
I drank away my tour sorrows.
I drank away my roommate sorrows.
I drank away the drama sorrows.
I drank away my financial sorrows.
Not really…
I tried to drink it all away, but when I awoke the following morning, I was still on the tour and still in the room with Persnickety, still poor… and there was still drama.
I tried.
In fact, I tried so much so that the next day was a complete write off.
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