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Controversy Corner
Wednesday, February 24th, 2010
Political correctness prevents us from saying the things we really want to say. Simple truths must be put aside for fear of hurting someone’s feelings. So now we have to beat around the bush, speak in hushed tones, what once were black and white dilemmas are now drowned in a sea of grey. Well, not one known for shying away from the issues, today I plan to cut right through the crap and ‘go there’:
Should fat people pay for two seats on a plane?
To me, this is a no brainer. I can’t believe it’s even a debate. It’s not discrimination, it’s not singling people out, it’s simple logistics. Weight matters on an aircraft. Our luggage cannot weigh more than a certain amount. How come the people can?
I’ve been in the situation before; travelling from Canada to England with an overweight person next to me. I hardly think it fair that I paid for a seat and only got half a one. And yet I’m the rude one for asking to be moved? That makes no kind of sense to me. And yes, this is a bigger problem in North America because the fact is, people are fatter there.
I heard of a case where a woman was taken off a flight because she was so overweight that she couldn’t do up her seatbelt. This woman then went on to sue the airline for the embarrassment they put her through or some such nonsense (I don’t know what the outcome was). Really? You’re going to go through the hassle of lawyers and court fees and a long, drawn out process rather than just taking your ass to the gym and maybe working on a few things? Ridiculous!
Remember when I moved back to England and had to pay $800 in excess baggage charges? Yeah, me too. Excuse me while I go weep at the horrifying memory of it all. I remember standing at the check in desk, begging, pleading (alright, it was more like yelling and screaming, but whatever) with the manager to not charge me so much. She kept banging on about how important weight is on the aircraft. While we’re having this argument, I look behind me to see roughly half the people in the line are overweight, a few clinically so. I looked at them, looked at the manager, looked at them, looked back at the manager. She didn’t take my hint. Why weren’t one of those people refused boarding? Because of damn political correctness, that’s why and it’s such bollocks! When you think about it, I basically funded one overweight person’s flight.
If you’re an overweight person and don’t like being ‘singled out’ or ‘embarrassed’ in these situations, there are some really fairly simple steps you can take to avoid it. Why should others have to fund you and be made uncomfortable? Pay for two seats or lose some weight. Simple – problem solved.
Tags: planes, rants
Posted in travel | 31 Comments »
Diary of an Italian Vacation
Monday, January 4th, 2010
Day 1
- Land in Trieste. Fall in love twice before leaving the airport.
- Arrive at apartment. Eat. A lot.
Day 2
- Up early. Go to wander around shops. Make a few purchases.
- While crossing a street, see a devastatingly handsome man, impeccably dressed, smoking a pipe. I follow him for a few blocks, drooling like a puppy dog. *sigh* He was half man, half amazing.
- Realise everything in Italy closes from 1-3pm so people can enjoy lunch and a nap. I heart Italy.
- Have lunch at a lovely little restaurant. I count no less than 10 cloves of garlic in my pasta. Any plans to find my Italian husband are well and truly scuppered for the rest of the day as a result of said pasta.
- After getting a ridiculous diagnoses for something from my GP in England recently, Godfather’s wife arranges for me to see a specialist in Trieste. Specialist is awesome, diagnoses me correctly in 10 minutes, gives me treatment and requests extra testing. Find out her sister lives near me in England. Small world. Consultation ends with her kissing me on both cheeks. All doctors appointments should go like this.
- Godfather holds dinner party at apartment and invites all his awesome neighbours. Have an amazing night and get all neighbours to agree to work on finding me an Italian husband.
Day 3
- More shopping. Discover Italian H&M, which is like God came down from heaven and hand stitched the clothes himself.
- Find the perfect pair of trousers in another shop. They are tres expensive, so rather than buy them, I walk around the shop in them for 10 minutes, pretending I own them.
- Epic lunch back at the apartment, followed by power nap.
- Get dolled up and go to exhibition of artist I met at last night’s dinner party. Difficult to distinguish between the works of art and the men at this event. Fall in love at least three times.
- Go to nice restaurant and have the pizza to end all pizzas. Decide I will never eat pizza again, unless I’m in Italy. (That last sentence was a complete lie, but it’s an ideal I’d like to live up to)
Day 4
- May come as a surprise, but I did more shopping (are you seeing a theme here?)
- Go back to shop where I found the perfect trousers to lust after them some more. Find out they are actually part of a 50% off sale. Get so excited I practically drool on myself. To celebrate this shopping victory, I buy an adorable Little Black Dress I find in the same shop. Sadly, dress wasn’t 50% off, so therefore cancelled out any potential victory of the trousers, but still feel like a winner.
- After a righteous dinner, head down to the piazza to ring in the New Year. Listen to some guy sing Time Warp from The Rocky Horror Show in English with an Italian accent – surprisingly amusing. At midnight, despite the rain, there are so many fireworks, it sounds like a war zone.
Day 5
- After leisurely morning, head to the airport.
- Spent five days in Italy and didn’t see anyone in Ugg boots or leggings. My idea of heaven. Soon as I get to the airport, the two chicks in front of me and one behind are all wearing Uggs. They’re all British. Feel a great sense of rage and shame. Thought 2010 would bring change. I was wrong.
Tags: eating, good times, Italian hot boys, Italy, shopping, vacations
Posted in travel | 17 Comments »
The Rules of Public Transport
Thursday, October 29th, 2009
Public transport sucks. That is a known fact. No one wakes up in the morning saying ‘I can’t wait to take the bus today!’ To make transportation among the masses a little less sucky and somewhat bearable, there are certain rules one should abide by.
Anything that should be done in your bathroom at home, don’t do it on the bus or train
I’ve seen it all my friends, from someone flossing her teeth on the subway in Toronto, to a guy putting his contacts in on a packed commuter train in Tokyo. That’s what your bathroom is for. No one needs to see bits of food on a string emerging from your mouth at 8am.
Have your money ready
You can always tell the people who don’t take public transport that often from this scenario. It’s always the dude for whom the train is a fun adventure for the day, who has to fanny around at the ticket machine for half an hour. Listen, for those of us who have to rely on getting from A to B in these giant moving sweatboxes, our lives suck enough as it is. We don’t have time to wait for you to find the correct change for your metro card. It’s all we can do to even get out of bed in the morning.
Don’t talk on your phone
There’s something about public transport that makes people think their phones are just tin cans and string. Any conversation is conducted at unusually loud decibels. No one gives a rat’s ass what you’re saying, probably not even the person on the other end of the phone. Save the conversation for when you’re out in the street and your pointless banter can be drowned out by street noise like buildings collapsing, or people killing each other.
Don’t read the newspaper over someone’s shoulder
What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t even have to buy a paper anymore, there’s a plethora of free crap at any given station. So I don’t care if you have to read a take away menu or a Nation of Islam leaflet, you just better not be breathing down someone’s neck asking them to turn to the sports page.
Don’t stare
Do you want to die? Well, you’re going the right way about it. Buses and trains are close quarters. Between being crammed in like a sardine, holding your breath to avoid the stench of BO and blocking your ears to drown out the death metal coming from someone’s iPod, the last thing anyone needs is the stare down. I don’t care if you’re just admiring her outfit. That’s what the Craigslist ‘Missed Connections’ section is for (alright, that’s totally not what it’s for, but do I sound like I give a shit?). Eyes down, look in, like it’s Bingo in this bitch.
Tags: public transport, rants
Posted in travel | 11 Comments »
Letters From a Japanese Roomie
Wednesday, September 16th, 2009
Before I left Canada, my Japanese roommates got me a lovely card and a gift. It was possibly the cutest card ever given in the history of card giving. I thought I would share their notes here.
Just so you know, the ‘okonomiyaki’ they refer to is a kind of Japanese food that we made together once.
Dear Muireann,
Last time ‘let’s okonomiyaki party’ was so excited, right? I hope to do ‘let’s okonomiyaki party again with you. But you have to go back to Britain. I think lonely. Anyway, I hope to. May all your dreams come true. Thank everything. From Aya 1.
I love you!!
You are a wonderful lady. I thought it always. I wish you every happiness. Come whenever you like again. From Aya 2.
See, I always thought Aya 1 had the better English, but Aya 2 kinda craps all over her here (and wins extra points for declaring her love for me).
I think I’m gonna make like Gwen Stefani and just have a crew of Japanese chicks following me around at all times. I may have to move back to Tokyo for that, but I’ll figure it out somehow.
Tags: cute goodbye notes, Japanese chicks
Posted in travel | 4 Comments »
$800!
Monday, September 14th, 2009
Well, I made it back onto English shores. For those of you following me on Twitter or Facebook, you’ll have caught wind of my excess baggage fiasco.
It’s not like I didn’t know I’d have to pay for my luggage. Any time you have to sit on your suitcase to shut it, you know you have a problem. The luggage allowance for this flight was 20kgs (44lbs). Considering I was moving countries, my load was always bound to go over that.
When I put my first suitcase on the scale, it was 31kgs (68lbs). The check in guy looked at me over his half glasses and raised an eyebrow. My second case was 30kgs. So, I was 40 kilos over.
“That’ll be quite expensive,” says the bright spark behind the counter.
“Yeah? How much?” I say.
“Well, it’s $20 per kilo, so….$800.”
“Well, I don’t have that and I need to get my cases home, so I guess we’re gonna have to do something about that.”
At this point, the $800 didn’t even phase me. I was totally confident that I would be able to barter with them like I was in some North African country. In my mind, by the end of it, I’d have talked them down to $40 and have a free camel ride to the boarding lounge thrown in.
I was directed to the manager. I don’t know her name, but let’s call her Hilda. Hilda made it clear from the get go that she had no time for my flighty dreams of taking all my belongings home with me.
“Listen,” I say. “I don’t have $800 and I’m moving back to England, so I have no choice but to take all this home with me.”
“Well, you should have thought of that before you came here. You can’t take it on the plane, so do you have someone who can come and pick it up for you? You’ll have to get it shipped back.”
Hmm, Hilda seemed immune to my charms.
“You don’t understand,” I say. “I did think about it before I came here. I thought about it endlessly. Three quarters of my belongings are sitting in a good will shop downtown somewhere. The rest of it has been shipped. What remains in these here suitcases is basically the sum total of my life. None of it is expendable. These are the bare essentials. All that remain. They’re coming with me.”
She glared at me. This, I imagined, was not how bartering goes down in North Africa.
“I don’t mind paying something, but $800 is daylight robbery.”
“Well how much would you like to pay?” Hilda asked. Great, now we’re getting somewhere.
“I have $85 in my purse. Have at it.”
Hilda laughed in the face of my $85 and explained, at length, why that wouldn’t be happening. “Why should you be the exception?” She asked.
“Let’s do a poll of everyone on this flight,” I suggest. “I will put money (all $85 of it) on me being the only one moving countries. That’s why I should be the exception.”
This was greeted with Hilda revisiting her earlier points, this time adding a raised voice and a pointed finger.
“Fine. If weight is such an issue on flights, how come overweight people don’t have to pay more for their ticket than me?” I asked. Hilda seemed stumped by that one. It’s a valid point, if you think about it. People with the correct height to weight ratio have been getting skanked by airlines for years!
By now, it was clear that whatever argument I threw at Hilda would not stick. She told me they only took credit cards. Awesome, I had just paid mine off and cut it up. I’d have to call my parents. Oh, but Hilda won’t let me use the phone and they won’t take foreign credit cards. “Well, you’ve got to throw me a bone here Hilda, Jesus!” I say, completely exasperated. The best she could do was get me to reverse the charges on the pay phone.
It finally got sorted and I arrived back in England with both my cases and an $800 debt to pay to my father. Good times.
Tags: airlines, customer service or lack thereof, flying, moving
Posted in travel | 9 Comments »
How May I Help You? NO!
Friday, September 4th, 2009
To pay the bills and support my writing dream while I’ve been here in Canada, I’ve had to do a few shitty jobs. My last one was as a travel agent. Now, to clarify, before people get offended, I classify a shitty job as any job that doesn’t have you following your passion. So, save the complaint letters please.
Anyhoo, for me, this job was particularly shitty because you HAVE to give a crap about it. You can’t just show up, breeze through the days and collect your pay cheque. If you mess up on this job, you’re messing up someone’s holiday and that’s kind of a big deal.
Anyone who knows me or reads this blog regularly has probably picked up on my low tolerance for bullshit, so a job in the customer service arena, while I’ve had many of them through the years, is probably not best suited to me.
The clientele in a travel agency however are among the more annoying type of customer. Here are the top few types of encounter that made me want to stab myself in the neck with a pencil (so, in case you wander into a travel agency, you know not to do this):
“I want to go away somewhere…anywhere!”
Yeah, that’s nice doll, but let’s face facts, you don’t. If I suggest Outer Mongolia, odds are, you’re gonna turn it down. “Well, can you narrow it down a little? Whereabouts would you like to go?” “Anywhere!” This was usually greeted with extensive eye rolling by me. Listen, it’s a commission based job and I simply did not get paid enough to spend an entire day going through a frikkin’ atlas with these fools only to have them do a one week all inclusive in Cuba. Kiss my ass.
“I want to go to Africa/Thailand/Australia/Any far away country but I don’t want to spend over $500.”
Yeah, good luck with that homie. Tell me how it works out, because I surely can’t help you. There are more people than you could ever imagine who, after you tell them this little escapade is not logistically possible, will argue the point with you til the cows come home. Never mind that the flight alone to these places will cost more than double their budget. My suggestion to them was usually to start swimming.
“But I saw it cheaper online.”
Then I suggest you book it online asswipe. You know why the price is never usually the same? Because travel websites don’t update in real time (it’s virtually impossible for them to do so, because the prices are based on availability of seats, which changes every nano second). So when you see that flight to L.A for $500, in the time it takes you to make it to the travel agent, someone else has bought that flight and the price of the next available seat has gone up. You see how it works? Good, so don’t sit in front of me for an hour debating online prices. I’m not online, I’m right here in your face telling you to shut the hell up.
“But it was $20 less online/at this other travel agent.”
If you’re quibbling about $20, you can’t afford to go on vacation. Plain and simple.
There are many other scenarios which drove me to distraction, but luckily I worked with awesome people who could talk me off the ledge when I was about to roundhouse kick someone. So, spare a thought for the person you’re dealing with, in any customer service environment and know that they really don’t get paid enough to tolerate your bull.
Tags: annoying people, customer service or lack thereof, travel agents
Posted in travel | 5 Comments »
International Relations on the Homefront
Monday, August 31st, 2009
I live with two Japanese girls, both called Aya. I used to think that Aya 1′s English speaking abilities were lacking, until I met Aya 2. Let me preface all of this by saying, I know how hard it is to learn another language. I lived in Japan for a year and am pretty sure there are a bunch of Japanese people dining out on stories of the various gaffs I made while attempting to speak their language.
Aya 2 has been here for six months, learning English. I’m not sure what they’ve been teaching her, but I think it’s fair to say, progress has been slow. Her sentences are typically made up of three words and some charades. It’s on you to fill in the blanks.
A few weeks ago, she was showing me some stuff she’d picked up at a flea market. One of them was a old set of knives. She took one out of the box and said ‘For when I have boyfriend!’ and then made some stabbing motions with the knife. I was a little taken aback. ‘You’ll….kill him?’ I asked, now a little scared of my seemingly innocent roommate. She looked confused and conferred with Aya 1 in Japanese. They both giggled. Aya 1 clarified ‘No, she cook for him!’ So now we know both her English and cooking skills are shitty. When even the charades are confusing, you know it’s bad.
It’s gotten so I dread being alone with Aya 2. The awkward silences, the desperate scrambling in my head trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. Aya 1′s English isn’t great, but next to Aya 2 she looks like Barack Obama’s speech writer. Mind you, I don’t help much. I do all the embarrassing things we English speakers do in these situations. I start speaking in pigeon English too, thinking this will help her understand me better. I talk louder, as if her hearing is the issue.
Over the weekend, Aya 2 and I crossed paths on the doorstep as I was taking my bike out to run some quick errands. She said ‘Have a romantic time!’ Umm, what? What does that even mean? I couldn’t even hazard a guess at what she was trying to say. I mean, I love my bike an all, but not like that. But rather than question it, I greeted it with a smile and a nod and said ‘Thank you, I will.’
One day, Aya 2 will grasp the basics and before you know it, she’ll be chatting it up with the people of Toronto like never before. I, on the other hand, will still suck at Japanese.
Whatever you’re doing today, don’t forget to have a romantic time.
Tags: Japan, Japanese chicks, language barriers
Posted in travel | 5 Comments »
Worldwide Wallet
Thursday, August 6th, 2009
I was going through my wallet the other day and came to the conclusion that if I actually cleared it out every once in a while, my handbag would probably be about 10 pounds lighter. There is an unprecedented level of crap shoved in there, 92.3% of which, is pretty much useless.
Here’s a breakdown of what I found in the bottomless black lagoon I like to call my wallet:
Social Security cards from Canada, England and the US. (I’m like the United Nations).
2 debit cards from England (one of which expired in 2008).
2 Japanese bank cards (I stopped living there in 2006).
2 Canadian debit cards for bank accounts I have long since closed.
1 UK credit card that expired in 2007.
An appointment card for the spa I used to go to in Tokyo. Apparently my last appointment was scheduled for January 17th 2006 at 1pm. I’m running a little late.
2 Air Miles cards. I’ve had them for about 2 years and have a combined total of about 45 points. I’m not getting anywhere fast.
A Boots Advantage points card. Boots is a drug store in the UK. I haven’t lived in England for almost 6 years. Where exactly did I think I’d be collecting points for?
2 Metro cards from New York.
3 business cards from my french teachers in Japan. Yeah, go figure.
A Tokyo subway map, lest I get lost in Toronto, that’s really gonna help me out.
A fortune from chinese food I had in New York in 2004. It says ‘You’re transforming yourself into someone who is certain to succeed.’ And in case you’re wondering, my lucky numbers, according to the fortune, are 4, 10, 22, 27, 29 and 35.
The only thing in there that I actually use right now is my current debit card. In everything else in my life, I don’t hold on to things like this. Sentiment aside, I throw shit out regularly and feel much better for it. Why can I not seem to apply that to my wallet?
Come on, I can’t be the only one out there like this. What’s in your wallet? (Did Capital One trademark that phrase in their commercials? If so, whatever. Deal with it Capital One!)
Posted in fashion, travel | 7 Comments »
And….scene
Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009
Ahem…*taps mic* is this thing on?
I have an announcement to make: I’m moving back to England.
This Brit is fleeing to the homeland y’all.
There was a time when I never thought I’d say that. But I’ve come to realise, as it turns out, homesickness is a pretty darn hard thing to fight.
My gypsy blood has had me galavanting around for almost 6 years. I started on this journey when I left university and got on a plane bound for New York City with no idea what the hell I was doing. I spent a year and a half there flying by the seat of my pants, living hand to mouth, marveling at the disproportionate amount of crazy people and overall, having the time of my life. Talk about a learning curve.
From there, Japan came a-calling. And I went, neglecting to learn a lick of Japanese beforehand. It’s a whole other kind of learning curve when you can’t even speak the language. And it makes for some ridiculously comical moments.
At the end of my year there, I decided to move to Canada and Toronto has been my home for almost three years now. I have loved it (nothing beats the summer here) and I have hated it (nothing beats the winter here. Seriously, if anyone finds my nipples that froze off in the harsh winter of ’08, please return them to me).
I went home this past Christmas, having not been home during Yuletide for three years and it was like being wrapped in a big bundle of love. My family is officially the coolest family on the planet and my old time friends came out and reminded me of things, places and jokes that I’ve missed.
When I landed back in Toronto, my reasons for being here just made less and less sense. I’m in a job that doesn’t have anything to do with my career goals, just to keep a roof over my head (and it doesn’t even do that very well. Luckily, I have a delightfully understanding transsexual landlady/man). I have no family here and due to the harsh winters, you end up basically hibernating for four months of the year. I’ve been trying to fight this feeling of something not quite clicking for a long time, convincing myself that I have to stick it out and I can’t keep moving. But then I realised, who said I can’t? It’s my life and I write the rules up in here!
So, a few weeks ago, I called my parents and I wasn’t even sure I was going to say it, but before I knew it, I said ‘I think I want to come home.’ And once I said the words, it was like a giant weight just lifted off me.
I handed my notice in at work yesterday and in mid-September, I’ll be on a plane back home. Home. *sigh*
And for once, it feels like the right decision.
I started this journey at 22. I’m now 28. Older, definitely wiser and with some incredible memories and irreplaceable people who’ve come into my life and will hopefully stay in it. Who knows if England will be my last stop on this train. I go where the wind takes me. And right now, it’s blowing me back home.
But my real reason for leaving….I just can’t stand the way North Americans say ‘aluminium.’ I mean Jesus, get it right!
Oh and don’t worry, I may be on a different continent, but this blog will continue to be in your face every day no matter where you are in the world.
Tags: canada, personal matters, the brits, travels
Posted in life, travel | 12 Comments »
Should I Stay or Should I go?
Thursday, March 5th, 2009
That is a question I struggle with every now and then. Having moved around so much, my compass is all the way off these days. I don’t know where home is and I have an urge to just keep moving and trying out other cities, countries, places. Yet I also crave stability and focus and furniture and you know, other shit that grown up people have.
So, when my dad recently threw out the suggestion, during a casual Skype conversation, that I move home, it sent me into a state of turmoil for a good half a day or so. It’s a tempting offer: move home, back in with the parents, work part time in the family business, spend the rest of my time writing, making tea and generally being fabulous.
I know, I know. What’s not to love about that? Rent free living and a guaranteed job? I should be jumping for joy, right? But I just don’t think I can muster another move across an ocean. Nevertheless, I thought it was only right that I give the offer fair and balanced consideration.
Advantage
Living at home, enjoying mama’s cooking, no rent and getting to watch The Wire with my parents every day.
Disadvantage
Being in your late twenties and still living with your parents. Don’t get me wrong, I have a wonderful relationship with my ‘rents and love them to death, but I don’t want to be the female George Costanza.
Advantage
The guaranteed job and being able to work part time – holla!
Disadvantage
I would feel an enormous amount of pressure working for my parents. I know how much they put into that business and I don’t want to be the one to mess up the whole operation.
Advantage
Being around my friends again.
Disadvantage
As tough as it is not having your good girlfriends around you, sometimes when you don’t have that, you force yourself to meet new people more. Maybe if I was home, I’d take that circle of friends for granted.
Advantage
Having quick and easy access to Topshop.
Disadvantage
The subsequent debt that will ensue as a result of quick and easy access to Topshop.
Advantage
People not thinking I’m Australian.
Disadvantage
People telling me I have now developed a ‘north American twang’. You can’t win with this accent thing, I tell you.
Advantage
Being able to wallow in all the inside jokes me and my brother have.
Disadvantage
Sometimes the jokes seem even funnier to me via email/Facebook instant chat.
But essentially, when things aren’t going your way, you can’t always just pack up your shit and run home to your parents, however tempting that may be. My situation here may not be perfect, might actually be close to infuriating at times, but I have to tough it out and make it better. It’s on me to fix it. But does that mean that I can’t quit my job and go home for a few weeks for some TLC? Ahh, probably. Damn it, I just can’t catch a break!
Tags: family, moving, the brits
Posted in travel | 1 Comment »