This Momentous Life Decision Felt Like Jumping Into The Abyss.

Four friends were driving me to LAX airport to catch my flight...Issue #89

ifOnlyi…could have backed out of going right before my departure. It had been a few days since I learned that a drunk driver had killed my girlfriend. How can I go now was all I could think, but I was beyond chickening out of this trip. I was all alone! I would arrive, knowing no one, having no money, and no direction. I turned 22 just a few weeks earlier.

My friends decided they wanted to drive me to say “Bon Voyage” or “Au Revoir.” Either way, I knew this would be a rough ride in more ways than one.

I was barely 22 years old and going to a place many had never heard of. “Australia?” Where is that? Most would say, including me, until I looked it up on a world map. All I could think of was how long it took to get there. Remember, this was 1982.

To get to Sydney, Australia, I had to take many planes, wait times, and transfers. This would be the longest trip I had taken so far. I felt as if I was going into the Abyss.

Five different locations to get to Sydney, and two days flying time.

One of my friends drove. I sat in the back seat of my car, along with my other two friends, and two more in the front. They had a plan, it was their plan, not mine, but as you’ll read, I went along with it. Drinks came out!

It was only a matter of time. How much could they get me to drink before the Flight departed? Driving there was only thirty minutes. Lax was a straight shot driving on the Pacific Coast Highway. It was the last time I would see my friends for a long time. I was sad, still in pain from the news I had learned, but they kept me perked up with drinks.

When we got to the airport, I checked my luggage and got my boarding pass. Back then, you could walk to the boarding gate with family, friends, or both. They all came along and suggested, “Let’s have a goodbye drink, Ollie, before you board the Flight. There is still time.”

I kept hearing over the airport speaker systems, last call for Flight bla bla bla.‘ By this time, they had gotten me wasted. I now needed a wheelchair to get me to the gate as walking wasn’t an option. One of my friends pushed me along in the wheelchair, and my other friends ran beside me, cheering me on so they could get me to the gate on time. LAX Airport is a vast place to get around.

Ollie is getting pushed to the Flight at LAX.

The check-in lady looked down at her table, and there was one blinking light, which was for my seat, and I was missing. They knew I had checked in and waited perhaps longer than they should have.

Ollie, we need you to get on NOW!

I could barely walk or talk, and my friends made a mess of me. “Good luck,” I recalled them saying as I boarded. I needed help getting into my seat and buckling up. The Flight was about to take off, and we were all locked up.

The flight attendants were waking me up, that’s the next thing I remember. There were several around me. “Ollie, wake up, we’re here.” As one eye opened, I noticed my head was hurting, and no soul was on the plane. “Where are we?” I asked, “Hawaii.”

“Why Hawaii? We are supposed to go to Sydney. Did I get on the wrong flight”? “No, you have a 5-hour layover before your next flight, and we need to get you off here so we can prep for our next flight,” she replied.

I couldn’t spend money on food in the airport, as I only had $150 and needed every penny.

The next Flight would take me to Australia, and I did not know it would be another stopover, this time in Perth for four hours. I slept on this Flight, too; I guess it was a way to hide my fear. What was the Abyss going to be like?

My third Flight was from Perth to Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, and I was told I had another long layover there. Oh No! I thought.

I arrived in Queensland and had to change planes for my final Flight to Sydney. By now, it was well into the second day of traveling. These airports drove me mad, and I was almost at my limit. They called my Flight, and I recall boarding and walking to the back of the plane.

The Stewardess was ‘wow’ fantastic, asked me if I wanted a drink, and I asked “How much?” “No cost, sir, it’s free!” I was parched. “How about an Australian beer, please?” We had only one hour and thirty minutes to reach our destination, and I started feeling panicked - the kind that comes with tremors and sweat.

Out of fear, I kept the Stewardess as close as possible to me. I loved her accent (it was only the third time I had heard an Aussie accent; the other two were at the Australian General Council’s office in Los Angeles). After sharing my concerns and fears, she gave me her phone number and said. “Ollie, don't hesitate to call me if you need help or anything at all.” ‘Hot Diggity,’ I had one person to fall back on. I felt a sense of relief.

I met my first savior, Karen.

Once the wheels touched down, I knew my life was about to change forever.

Okay, I thought, what next? Oh, get luggage, then clear Customs and Immigration. Standing in line, I heard people tell the Immigration officer where they were staying. Oh shit- I had no place. Think quick, Ollie, that’s all I could muster up to answer something I had no answer for.

I was lugging around enough luggage to make the officer see I was there for a lengthy stay. I had a six-month visa and wasn't legally able to work.

“Welcome to Sydney,” he said. “May I have your passport and customs papers, please?” “Yes, sir,” “What’s the purpose of your visit? I am going to travel and see your country. I’m starting in Sydney.” I replied

“You will love Australia. How much money are you bringing into the country for your stay? I see you're here for six months and then traveling to New Zealand.”

I continued, “I have some cash and will use my American Express card for most of my stay.” “Do you have more than $10,000 in cash?” “Absolutely not,” I answered quickly. ( I had less than $150 in cash, but I wasn’t going to share that detail)

“Where will you be staying in Sydney?” he asked. I don’t know yet. Do you have any suggestions?” I asked.” If you go by taxi, ask the cabbie; they will know some places.”

Great. He stamped my passport and told me to go through customs, where they would search my luggage. Thank you, and off I went. After passing customs, I headed outside, looking for a taxi sign.

I jumped into a cab and told the driver I had very little money, so I needed the cheapest place in town to stay. He was super kind to me and shared the history of Australia, which was shocking. Prisoners? Yes, long ago, countries around the world used to send their criminals to Australia. Now, my mind was wandering faster than the speed of the jets that just flew me here. What kind of people am I going to mingle with?

I begged the taxi driver again. “I need the cheapest hotel, please!”

He pulled up to what looked like a movie set with old, busted-up wooden double doors.

He says it is the cheapest. I paid him about $30 US Dollars, even though it was Australian money. I changed it at the airport, but I was only left with $120. Talk about fear setting in BIG TIME!

I walked in with my two large suitcases and a carry-on. I said, 'May I have a room, please?’ The man with the heavy accent asked, ' For yourself. ' Yes, that will be six Aussie Dollars, please. Wow, that cab driver was right—cheap. He gave me the key after I had paid and left my passport.

There was no hotel porter, and the front desk man was also the bartender. There was no elevator, but it was only up two flights, one less than the penthouse. I walked into the room, if that’s what you call it. I was already missing my home comforts. What had I done!

Remember, this was in 1982. When I looked for a closet, there wasn’t one to be found, but I had an open cabinet with shelves where I could put my clothes. The shelves were lined with newspapers, no joke. There was no toilet and no shower.

Newspaper-lined shelves for my clothes!

I looked at one of the newspapers, dated 1961, taped to the wooden shelf. ( Oh My God), OMG, I noticed the bed, or whatever you might call it, was original and had to be at least 75 years old. When I sat on it, the springs pushed up, and the mattress was so thin I used some of my pants as padding.

I fell into the darkness of depression right then and there. I ran downstairs and asked the barman if there were any other rooms, perhaps a bit more modern? I was shocked when he told me, “You have the best room, sir.”

I was truly beside myself; I had made a mistake. I am afraid to eat with little more than a hundred dollars left. I knew I should have grabbed some more snacks when leaving the plane.

Despondent, I went upstairs to a tiny bar and had a couple of stiff drinks so I could sleep. I was off kilter and had already had too much sleep from flying and sleeping in airports, so I had overdosed on sleep.

But now it was bedtime, and I eventually dozed off. The next morning, I found the one bathroom, freshened up, and walked to a local store to buy a loaf of bread. I had no place to go and no idea what to do. Once again, I went upstairs to the tiny bar. I figured I could chat with the same guy I had done the night before, but to my shock, a lady was serving this time.

“Howdy, Ma'am, are you serving today? May I have a beer, please?” She instantly asked me where I was from and what had made me choose this hotel.

She handed me a popular beer and said, “It’s on the house! Welcome to Australia. I was so appreciative of her kindness.

After spending hours sharing my stories and listening to hers during the afternoon, she popped a Question! “How would you like to stay with us, Ollie, my husband, and me? We would have to give you the floor as we don’t have a couch, which will be easier than sleeping in a chair. We only have a one-bedroom apartment.” “That sounds amazing,” I replied. “I would love to meet your husband. What does he do?”. He is a Police officer. OH, I thought!

Aussie Copper

Ollie, don’t worry. She said he's laid-back and gets off work late. You can come with me now, and I will tell my husband the plan. “I’ll be back in seconds,” I shouted as I ran straight upstairs and got my luggage. Yippi. Was this a blessing?

I unloaded the car and went upstairs when we got to her place. The apartment was tiny, but I didn't care. It was clean, and the carpet was far better than the 1900s bed I’d slept in for only one night.

About 8 p.m. that evening, the door bursts open, and her husband comes in carrying a case of beer and a carton of cigarettes on top. He blurts out, “Hello Yank, rhymes with septic tank, yeah?”

He handed me a beer and a cigarette, and we talked, drank, and smoked until three in the morning. The beers were gone, and we’d smoked several packs of cigarettes. It was now time to sleep.

Next thing I knew, I felt a foot against my ribs. The officer was nudging me awake. He had already showered, shaved, and put on his uniform. I looked up and asked, “What time is it, sir?” He answered, “Time to get up! As long as you stay here, you get up when I get up!”

Even though I felt rough and looked disheveled, I jumped up immediately and folded my blankets. As he walked out the door, he turned and said, “It’s 5:45 in the morning, Ollie!”

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...ifOnlyi…short stories follow my true-life journey. If you've just found me, you can check out my publication and choose a story of interest or start from # 1.