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Monday, November 20, 2017

Welcome to the Sheraton Grand Mirage La-di-dah

Having landed in Gold Coast, without a way to get to our hotel, and with my Uber not working for the past 2 or 3 tries, I hiked up my Flushiepants and got busy.

Savvily scouting the arrivals area, I spotted a booth festooned with signs saying "Gold Coast Tourist Shuttle". Even better, a nice looking Sheila manned (or wommaned? personned?) the booth.

On a hunch that this might be a way of getting a ride, I approached.

FOC. Heh heh.
I am normally not one to flirt with Sheilas, Island Senior Girlfriends (ISGs), cocktail waitresses, or any other female. But sometimes, it is called for.

And this Sheila brought it on with a megaphone.

"Would I be able to get a ride aboard one of your shuttle vehicles to the Sheraton Grand Mirage La-di-dah Shalomar de Ville?"

"Yes, no worries," she said.

"Two please."

"You'll be the last stop, just soy you knoy."

We got chatting and in the next 60 seconds I told her our entire itinerary, where we were from, what it was like there, and that it was very nice over here and the people were so friendly.

She fixed up the tickets and I handed over my credit card as she typed stuff into the terminal.

"Do you tap... or insert?" she asked.

This was one of those moments where, again, if I were Eddie Murphy in Trading Places, as previously discussed, I would deadpan a look straight at the camera for 1.3 seconds.

"I tap. But on special occasions..." I started.

Oh no. I was headed straight into the rhubarb again.
I was about to say something really cheeky which would end with an unaccepted apology and yet another memory that I would lie in bed at night on 100 occasions in the future replaying, and regretting. (And then I'd chuckle.)

"...oh never mind," I said.

What? Was I gaining some amount of... tact? Decorum? Judgement? Respect? Maturity?

Is this the end of Las Vegas the Royal Flusher Way???

Because the lack of all of those things is the cornerstone (are the cornerstones?) of my literary empire.

I'd held back. She was just too nice to take down the back alley, verbally.

She went over to get some papers and a folder or something and then she kind of stopped, as an imaginary light bulb went on above her pretty little Sheila head.

"Oh. I just started thinking. About the tap or insert..." she said, not looking at me.

"I think I'm actually going to blush," I said.

Then she started giggling and blushed herself. We had a nice little moment. It was like when kids manage not to sneak a peek at their Christmas presents. I presume. I've never experienced that.

With that wrapped up, I thanked her for keeping it classy, and we had our return transfers from the Airport to the Sheraton Grand Fromage Tout-de-Suite Belleview and back again.

"I feel like I have something I have never had before," I said to Mrs. Flusher, once we were outside, and waiting for the bus motor coach.

"It's called dignity," she replied.

I immediately got back on track by photographing the bus license plate and giggling to myself.

Mickey Mouse on Acid.
The bus wound itself around all of Gold Coast. I caught a sneek peek at Surfer's Paradise through the wrap on the windows.

Surfer's Dotty Paradise
The Gold Coast Tourist Shuttle people were really great - they had quite a few stops before our hotel, which is at the far north end of the beach, and they had a bus runabout intercept the bus motor coach. We were offloaded onto the bus runabout and taken directly to the Sheraton.

And soon, there was a shimmering blue light, shot with bolts of emerald and rose.

My eyes were dazzled, and I became afraid, but a heavenly voice comforted me, and a warm hand reached for my luggage.

"Welcome to the Sheraton Grand Visage La-di-dah Hotel and Cabins," it said.

All I could must was "Noy, noy, noy," as I was transported to the most amazing room I've ever seen in my life.

    1 comment:

    1. Weird to see "Mrs Flusher" written instead of "Quad Queen"


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