I made it to MEL on a banana. And maybe half a meal. That was it. But I actually felt fine.

There are 2 other flights in this trip, but they really aren’t worth writing about because they were simply Qantas domestic.

I had to go to SYD for a work thing, and I mistakenly suggested to my 83 year old mother, that she should tag along. I said I would treat her to a night at the Park Hyatt.

My mother is one of those people who sleeps with one eye open in case she misses something.

If you called her and said “we want to take you to Singapore and the plane leaves in 3 hours” she would be packed in 9 minutes and be at the airport in another 11. The woman is insane.

Because she is 83, she also thinks that all airfares are still $49. And hotels but a fraction more.

I booked simple economy tickets, and took her to the Qantas lounge before the flight. She hasn’t been inside a Qantas lounge for donkeys years and I think she said the last time she went to Sydney, Richard Nixon was the President.

Within minutes she was back at the seat we had found and said…

“The nice man didn’t charge me for the coffee and I’m still waiting to pay for the toast and granola”
“Mum its all free, don’t worry about it”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It can’t be free”
“Trust me its free”
“I just left the money on the counter over there”
“You did what???”

Trying to explain to her the nuances of airline lounges at 7am in the morning, without access to alcohol is a seriously challenging task. So I gave up.

Even though we were flying economy to Sydney, when the FA bought “the meal” around, my Mum refused, because she didn’t want to have to pay for that as well.

“Mum the meal is free as well”

She proceeded to wave her arms, and tell me that it’s no wonder the country has gone to hell if small companies like Qantas are giving out food willy nilly to every man and his dog.

When we got to the Park Hyatt Sydney I made another fatal mistake. I told her to go inside and check in as I needed to run an errand around the corner and that I would be back in 30 mins.

Things decidedly had gone down hill in that 30 mins because when I got back there was a gaggle of hotel staff standing around her, fanning her with napkins and asking her if she would be alright and if she had forgotten to take her blood pressure medication.

The silly woman had seen the room rate and promptly fainted.

When she saw me she flew into a rage and told me it was ridiculous to spend that sort of money on a hotel and had I turned to dealing drugs. I told her to calm down and pleaded with one of the staff to bring us a vat of Gin and Tonic.

Let me be serious for a minute.

Yes, the Park Hyatt isn’t cheap. But look where it is. Arguably the best address in Sydney. And what a view.

I think travel should be about the experience and the memories.

And besides, I was using American money. Real money. Not Aussie dollars which are about as useful now as the Nigerian Naira.

My mum quickly got over the bill shock when she got to her room and saw the view of the Opera House directly in front.

She would text me every 11 seconds.

“There’s a Nespresso machine in here. Can we take that home?”
“No”
“There are robes in the closet, are they free?”
“No”
“What about all the soap and shampoo?”
“Yes, have at it”
“I found 2 rolls of toilet paper in the cupboard”
“Ok knock yourself out, take them if you want”
“These pillows are so comfy, I wonder where they got them”
“Mum, you can’t steal the bedding, the carpet, the drapes or anything thats fixed to the wall ok?”

Thankfully my room was a good 10 mins from hers and I told her that I was very busy and needed to be left alone.

Sadly, that argument doesn’t work with the very person who actually brought you into this world.

So we met downstairs and had a drink and something to eat and enjoyed the view and ambiance. Until the check came. Upon which she fainted again.

Ok. I’m kidding.

But she proceeded to call my sister and ask her how long had I been in the narcotics business and did she know

My sister now calls me Pablo just to annoy me.

To see if I could tip my Mum over even further, I made a dinner reservation that night at The Rockpool.

It was a cracker. We had a great time. You should go there if you visit Sydney.

And my mother had calmed down somewhat and said she was coming to terms with the fact that her only son was now a bonafide drug dealer and patted me on the head and told me to be careful…

Shoot me now…