I went out one Saturday in the summer of 2009 with one of my girlfriend’s, Summer. Summer is one of my most attractive friends and we always have a blast when we go out together. We can do a lot of damage and we tend to get a fair amount of male attention. Anyone dating either one of us always cringes when Summer and I announce that we’re having a girls night out. This usually means we will get hit on left and right, be given tons of free drinks, make lots of drunk guy friends, and eventually find our way home and pass out together (leaving whoever we’re dating to sleep on the floor or the couch).

Summer had been having a low point in the world of relationships lately. She had been struggling with a break up (they had been “breaking up” for about nine months) and she really wanted some cheering up and to meet some hot/affluent men to get her out of her funk. She called me to complain about how she was having so much trouble getting over Matt (which was a slight misstatement considering she was still getting ‘under’ him whenever he wanted to see her) and she said that she really wanted to go to The Viceroy in Santa Monica.

The Viceroy is a very nice hotel with a loungy poolside bar in Santa Monica. It is not cheap. A glass of wine at The Viceroy costs, on average, about $15. I explained to her that I am always more than happy to venture to such a place in search of studly guys, just as long as they will be purchasing all of our drinks. Valet at The Viceroy also happens to cost about $20, so it’s not even a friendly place for a sober driver. So I met Summer at her place we and managed to get her roommate, Erin, to give us a ride to The Viceroy.

Within the hour the place had started to fill up. When it grew a little more crowded, we moved ourselves outside by the pool. It didn’t take long before the boys started talking to us. It wasn’t long before Summer and I were standing at the poolside bar doing shots with a group of guys. I was particularly enjoying the company of one of the guys, let’s call him Todd, because he had a particularly good sense of humour and he seemed to have picked up on the fact that I was essentially Summer’s wing woman for the night.

Summer was laughing and having a good time. I was proud of my good deed. She was enjoying all of the male attention she was getting and I hadn’t noticed her obsessively checking her blackberry for at least an hour. Ever since her and Matt had “broken up” Summer’s blackberry had become an extension of her hand. Any text or facebook update about him was reread and pondered for at least an hour. She was constantly worrying about him and other girls, him lying to her, him wanting to see her or not see her, the list was endless. When I met Summer, she was one of my strongest female friends. She was a role model to me of what I should and shouldn’t be ok with in a relationship and how to punish a man. Now Summer was a mess over Matt and it really made me sad to see her hurting so much. Every outing we had now was consumed by her worries about him. Having a night with her where my sole purpose was to distract her and cheer her up, and seeing that it was working, really made me happy. I felt like a good friend.

My guy, Todd, suggested that we have a round of shots with Summer and the guys she was talking to. I am NOT good at taking shots but Summer is an expert and I wasn’t about to do anything to ruin her momentary high. So we all agreed to do shots. This is probably the last good part of the night that Summer and I enjoyed together.  Since I am a shot wimp and any straight shot I take instantly triggers my gag reflex, Summer agreed with me that I could have a lemon drop but everyone else was doing Patron (Summer knows that I am indeed a shot wimp because she has had years of experience drinking with me and she has seen first-hand what happens when people succeed in pressuring me to do a shot of anything straight. The last time someone succeeded in pressuring me to do a straight shot of Patron I only managed to get half down before my gag reflex kicked in and the rest of my shot and all of the contents of my stomach ended up on that person’s shoes, right in front of the bartender and everyone else in the crowded bar, including Summer. Very embarrassing.)*

Shortly after taking our shots I realized that Summer had crossed into the danger zone. I had just gone to the bathroom and I had left her talking to a group of guys. When I came out, I noticed that she was no longer talking to them. Instead, she was standing in the corner texting on her blackberry. I knew that her momentary high had passed. I walked over to her and she informed me that Matt would be picking us up and taking us home in twenty minutes. I was a little bothered by this since the night still seemed pretty young in my opinion. It was only 11:30pm and last call wasn’t going to be for well over an hour. I knew that once Matt got to the bar our fun would be over and they would probably start having sex as soon as we got back to Summer’s place and I had started to make my drunk drive home (which I would do because I would rather drive drunk down the street to my apartment and sleep in my bed than sleep on Summer’s couch and listen to her and Matt have drunk sex all night)**.

I decided to find out what my most recent male interest was up to. John was my most recent male prospect. He was a few years younger than me but he was GORGEOUS. He was tall, built, dark, and he had these huge puppy dog eyes that made me melt every time he looked at me. Nothing had happened between us yet but I knew that it was only a matter of time before it did. We just started working together and the chemistry between us was so strong that it actually made me uncomfortable. We had been flirting a lot that week and he had text me earlier that night to see what I was up to. So I decided to respond to his text. If Summer was going to be a lost cause for the remainder of the night and return to her Matt purgatory, then I was at least going to have a happy ending to my night.

When Matt picked us up I was surprised to see him smiling and happy. Summer also seemed to be pretty happy so I figured that now was a good time to see if I could get Matt to possibly drop me off in Hollywood at the club where John was (the total opposite side of Los Angeles, at least an hour’s drive) before him and Summer starting “breaking up” again. Matt said no. Summer also said no. I felt sad and disheartened. How unfair. I tried to joke with them about it and I tried all kinds of bribing and begging tactics on Matt but none of them were working. I knew I had lost.

When we got back to Summer’s place we all sat around talking for a few minutes. Erin, Summer’s roommate came into the room where we were sitting and gave us a box of cold pizza that her and her mom had ordered earlier. Apparently Erin’s mom was in town for the week and she was staying with Summer and Erin. Erin reminded us that her mom was in the next room so we shouldn’t make too much noise. Then she headed upstairs for bed. I decided that this was my cue to leave. I could already feel something in the air between Matt and Summer and I figured they were ready to have naked alone time very soon. I excused myself to go to the bathroom while they were making googly eyes at each other and announced that I would be leaving after I went to the bathroom.

I went into the bathroom and what could not possibly have been more than thirty seconds later, I heard Summer scream Matt’s name. Then I heard a lot of shuffling around in the next room, followed by a door slamming and then Summer crying, and I mean actually sobbing, “no, no, no, no”. I froze in the bathroom. I had no idea what the Hell was going on. I literally stepped into the bathroom for a minute to pee and everything outside went nuts. I was obviously way off on whatever vibe I had been picking up on between Matt and Summer earlier. What I had taken to be drunken horniness and affection for one another now sounded more like drunken hostility, miscommunication and rage. I opened the bathroom door only to see the front door wide open with Summer standing outside with no shoes on screaming Matt’s name at the top of her lungs. I started to make my way over to her, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge in the kitchen to give to her, but before I could get to her, she turned around and sprinted past me. She ran up the stairs to her room crying and saying something about taking a cab to Santa Barbara (Matt lived in Santa Barbara, 3 hours away).  I made my way upstairs realizing that I had to talk Summer out of her drunken craziness before she did something stupid, like take a cab to Santa Barbara, or wake Erin’s mom.

When I went into Summer’s room I realized that talking her out of her drunken hysteria was going to be quite a mission. I tried starting with, “Summer, what the Hell happened when I went to the bathroom? I was only in there for a second and then I heard you screaming…I don’t understand.”, but my attempt to talk to her was in vain. Summer was frantically calling Matt, over and over and over. He was obviously rejecting her calls or his phone was off. I tried to tell her to sit down. That was a bad idea. I offered her a bottle of water. Another bad idea. I tried asking her one more time what the Hell was going on and she finally decided to acknowledge that I was actually standing in her room by looking up at me with wet cheeks, dripping in mascara goop and growling, “Meghan, if you fucking ask me that question ONE MORE TIME…” She didn’t finish her sentence and I was pretty glad she didn’t. I shut up. I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. I realized that she was upset but whatever was going on between her and Matt had absolutely nothing to do with me and I hadn’t done anything to deserve such a response from Summer. My slightly hurt and confused looks at her were completely lost in her drunken rage with her blackberry though. She hadn’t even glanced at me since she had told me shut up. She had returned to her frenzy of trying to get a hold of Matt. She was calling him over and over again and crying, “I can’t believe he left me” (although from where I was sitting it didn’t seem too shocking to me), “no, no, no”, and “He’s going to see that girl” over and over.

I had no idea what to do. I sat there staring at her, trying to think of something to do. Before I could come up with anything constructive, Summer officially lost what little sanity she had remaining. She raised her arm up in the air and threw her blackberry onto the floor with full force. I felt like I was watching it happen in slow motion. I saw it hit the floor and smash into hundreds of tiny little pieces. Shit. As much as I had wanted to smash that blackberry for the past nine months that I had hung out with her, I knew that this was neither the time or the place for her blackberry to be smashed. Immediately, Summer collapsed onto the floor in a panic. “No, no, no, no! What have I done?” She started trying to put her phone back together—a complete waste of time and sign of her drunken denial about the whole situation. I followed her cue and dropped down onto my hands and knees and starting picking up little pieces of her blackberry. Summer’s crying had taken on a new and worrying sound. It was more desperate than before. She stood up and started pacing in her room. “Call me a cab Meghan, right now!” She demanded. I was not familiar with this mean and drunk person who was standing across from me and ordering me around. This was not the Summer I had grown to know and love. Feeling a little more brave than I had a few minutes earlier, I told Summer that I would not call her a cab to Santa Barbara and that trying to do something like that was just crazy. I told her that she should drink the water I had brought up for her, stop worrying about Matt and just go to bed. She did NOT like that! Summer looked at me and then she looked down at my hands. Then she looked up at me with crazy eyes and demanded, “Give me your phone!” Under normal circumstances, I would not have hesitated for even one minute to give Summer my phone. But I had just witnessed Summer brutally murder her beloved blackberry, her most prized possession, in a fit of rage. I wrapped both of my hands tightly around my phone. No way was I giving this crazy imposture of my friend my phone!

Just as I was about to have to contemplate actually getting into a physical fight with one of my best friends, Erin walked into Summer’s room. “What is going on in here you guys? You woke up my mom!” Summer clearly saw that this was the perfect moment for me to be distracted and she snatched my phone from me and ran outside. Erin and I watched in disbelief as our beautiful, drunk and crazy friend ran outside and down the street with no shoes on and with my phone. Great. Now I was really stuck. There was no way I could go home without my phone. What if John called me? What if Summer tried to murder my phone too?

Erin comfortably and easily assumed the role of caretaker. It helped her a lot that she hadn’t been drinking that night and that she had actually been living in the same house as the Matt and Summer drama for the last few months. Erin told me that Summer had found some really suspicious pictures of Matt and some girl earlier and that she had been really upset about them all week. Thanks a lot for the heads up Erin! That would have been some good information for me to have before going out and drinking with Summer! Thanks a lot, ‘friends’! Just use me as a pawn between two crazed lovers.

An hour later, Erin had finally managed to coax Summer back into the front yard and she had somehow, miraculously, managed to convince Matt to drive back to their house and to patch things up with Summer, at least for the night. She also managed to get my phone back by letting Summer use her phone instead of mine. So around 3am I said my goodbyes and started walking to my car. I was tired and grumpy. I was also pretty bummed out that Summer had been so mean to me. I have been through a lot with her but she had never talked to me like that before…especially when I did absolutely nothing to deserve it! I sat down in my car and glanced at my phone to check the time before driving home. As the screen on my phone lit up, I was simultaneously mortified and furious to see eleven missed calls from John! Had he really tried calling me eleven times while Summer was using my phone and she hadn’t bothered to say anything to me? Now I was pissed! I had just spent my whole night trying to cheer up my friend and this is what I got in return? I drove home feeling completely sober and very angry.

When I got home I went out on my balcony and poured myself a glass of wine. I sat down in the most comfortable chair and called John back. I realized that calling him back at 3:30am was probably not the smoothest move on my part, but he had tried calling me eleven times between midnight and 2am so I figured it couldn’t be that bad. To my surprise, he picked up immediately. Although I didn’t get to see him that night, we did have a very amusing drunk chat for about an hour. I managed to stumble to into my bed at about 4:15am with a smile on my face.

Two days later Summer text me, “Just got a new phone. Sorry about Saturday.”

*I used to not be able to do shots at all, but I’m proud to say that after living in Mexico for a year and a half, I have learned how to shoot tequila and I absolutely love it.

**I NEVER drink and drive. I was more carefree about such things in 2009 but now that it is 2013 and I have a number of friends with some horrific DUI stories, I take drinking and driving very seriously and I absolutely will not get behind the wheel if I have had more than 1 drink.

It’s August 12, 2012 and I’m writing this with an aching lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. Doing the right thing is hard. It is also part of growing up.

Today, I became painfully aware of the fact that despite that the year is 2012, the world still has a LOT of growing up to do. Mob mentality, jumping on the bandwagon, or blindly following the (dumb) masses never ceases to amaze me. I realise that I’m more open minded and liberal than many of the people I know, but what I cannot, and will not tolerate in any way, shape or form, is racism of any kind. Coming from a white, blonde girl who has had an extremely privileged upbringing, I realise that it may surprise some people that I have such strong opinions on the matter, but I firmly believe that every single human being is 100% equal. I don’t give a shit what colour your skin is, where you were born, where you grew up, what you look like, or what god you pray to – or if you don’t pray to a god. I believe that from our conception until our demise, we are all completely equal. No one will ever be able to convince me otherwise.

Growing up, I attended an (amazing) international school in the vibrant and multi-cultural city of London. Now is perhaps the best time to be writing this – as London hosts the Olympics, an event that celebrates every race and every country in the world. London’s busiest airport, Heathrow, is the most trafficked airport on a daily basis in the WORLD. More people pass through London Heathrow Airport every day than any other airport in the world. Heathrow is a great representation of the city of London. It opens its borders to people from all over the world, every single day. It does not discriminate.

Perhaps naively and overly idealistically of me, I see the world like London Heathrow Airport. I think everyone, regardless of their race, religion, sex or sexual preference, upbringing or financial background, health or physical appearance, is deserving of the same opportunities. I have absolutely no tolerance or comprehension for racism or discrimination. It actually leaves me a little dumbfounded when I come across racism today. How have we as a society not moved past that yet?

Today, August 12, 2012, I was shocked and deeply disheartened to hear a story about a racist encounter that someone I know and love not only allowed to happen, but that they actually agreed with. I’m not referring to racism in the context of a fleeting comment or joking expression, as many of us casually tend to do (despite the political incorrectness of it), I mean true racism and discrimination. Today I listened to a story about someone being denied a position in an organisation because of the colour of their skin.

I was overwhelmed with emotion – anger, sadness and disgust, when I realised that this person I love really believed that they were right to deny another human being a right because of their skin colour. And I felt sick to my stomach.

How is it that we, as a society, have witnessed so many wars, and so much blood, because of religion, racism, and discrimination, and yet we continue to allow such ignorance to pervade our thoughts and actions? How can anyone honestly believe that they are better than someone else because of the god they worship, the colour of their skin, the people they chose to love or the privileges of their upbringings?

When I (abruptly) concluded my disheartening and deeply upsetting conversation, I was overwrought with the emotions that ensued. I very quickly felt a lump form in my throat and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. I cannot even begin to imagine ensuring someone’s denial from something because of their race, sex, religion or sexual orientation. Every part of me struggles with the concept of thinking I could possibly be important enough, or superior enough, to make such a decision. Surely such an action, such tunnel vision and narrow mindedness should be the very definition of ignorance: to only see things (or believe in something) in one (your) way, and believe that that way is right and all other ways are wrong. Are people really still that ignorant? Sadly, it breaks my heart to admit that, yes, they are.

Perhaps my favourite quote of all time, from the late (and great) Eleanor Roosevelt, is, “Well behaved women rarely make history.” I firmly believe this to be true (and I also believe that this applies to men). In order for growth and progress to occur, it is necessary, essential even, for people to break the mould and rock the boat. Women didn’t earn the right to vote by sitting back and waiting for men to just hand us the privilege. A few strong willed “trouble makers” had to break through the cultural and societal barriers that were formerly in place in order to earn women the right to vote.

In the history of mankind, the ones who made the history books were the martyrs, the rebels and the Rosa Parks. The people who instigated change were the ones who had to rustle some feathers to make society see its wrongs. It wasn’t the masses following sheep-like mentality that changed society, it was the few who dared to stand against the masses that changed society’s wrongs.

Today, we all know that black or white, we were all created equal. Yet, as I saw today, sadly, there are still those who believe that some people are better than others. And there are many, many, many more who are willing to quietly follow the masses of fools that continue to wrong others – sheer ignorance.

In short, in the words of Gandhi, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Don’t sit back and watch injustice before you every day, do something about it. This isn’t easy. This means you will likely have to upset a few people along the way and you will likely have to do some “controversial” shit. But no one said ever said that doing what’s right is easy. Doing the right thing is hard. But it’s the right thing. Do it. Be the change you wish to see in the world.

Ladies Night, Nowhere Bar

Cabo San Lucas doesn’t care what day of the week it is – every Monday straight on through until the next Monday is a party in Cabo! Cabo is a place for people to come to forget about everything. The way most children feel about Disney World, is the way that most adults feel about Cabo.

Unfortunately, Disney World is not cheap. Food, drinks, accommodation and an endless array of activities come with a price. As a girl though, one of the things you can do in Cabo that surprisingly won’t break your budget, is drink. For those of you who live here, and for those of you who are travelling, if you’re worried that drinks in Cabo will break the bank – fear not. Seven days a week, in at least one of the major bars or clubs in Cabo, there is a Ladies Night. This one very key thing that all females coming to Cabo (and especially females who live in Cabo) should know about – Cabo’s wonderful Ladies Nights!

Ladies Night means that girls drink for free, it’s really that simple. In some cases Ladies Night is all night, or at least up until around 12am. And there’s no cover. Regardless of the hours, you will definitely have enough time to get absolutely hammered without spending a penny, I promise. The only condition is that you must be female.

Sorry guys, thus far there are no Hombre’s Nights that I know of in Cabo!

To try and stay on top of the busy bar scene here in Cabo, some time ago my brilliant friend decided to make an Excel spreadsheet detailing all of the Ladies Nights in Cabo San Lucas. I have taken the time to update and add to this wonderfully informative chart. Girls, this is your golden ticket to free drinks, so print it out and keep it close when you are in Cabo! If you live here, this definitely belongs on your refrigerator, if you’re visiting, it goes on your bathroom mirror.

One thing is certain – there’s no getting bored (and if you choose, there’s also very little sobriety) in Cabo. Think of Cabo as a (very) mini Las Vegas. The clubs are open all night, DJ’s frequently fly in from Vegas to host the night at one of the clubs, and drinks are generally pretty expensive. One thing that Cabo has and Vegas does not though, are Ladies Nights.

Before living in México, I had never before seen Ladies Nights of the same nature as I see here in Cabo. To be able to drink for free all night, without paying a cover, 7 nights a week was a new concept for me. This is something that is not advertised enough and that possibly even some Cabo locals don’t know about. So, ladies, print out this schedule and take full advantage of it. There might not be another place in the world where you should be so lucky!

I have always had a burning frustration within me that, when I was younger, my parents put  down to me simply being their most difficult or obstinate child – especially compared to my older sister, who was the perfect picture of obedience and who revelled in any opportunity she could to make my parents proud. I was the complete opposite. Impressing my parents was very low on my priority list, if it was on the list at all (and it wasn’t). I remember my dad always telling people, “Meghan walks to the beat of a different drum.” If I was ever asked to do something, I would usually do the exact opposite of what was asked of me and my parents would always say in frustration, “You always have to be different, don’t you?” I would always try to negotiate with my parents on things that they didn’t consider to be negotiable. But really, I was just refusing to accept what I considered to be very limited societal expectations. I wanted out of ‘the system’.

When I entered my teenage years, I remember feeling distinctly frustrated and unhappy with the prospects of what life had to offer. The daily hum drum of school every morning in the same place, with the same people bored me to tears. Not that I wasn’t smart and couldn’t do well, I just didn’t see the point. I remember crying in frustration to my dad when he forced me to go see the college counselor at school – something we were all required to do at my  private ‘college preparatory’ school in London. And something which I adamantly refused to do. I just didn’t see the point. I was so frustrated and disappointed with what I thought were life’s limited offerings. I was only happy when I was partying with my friends or travelling (things I still very much love). The thought of studying more, just to get a job, so that I could buy a house, settle down and have children absolutely terrified me and had me constantly questioning the system. I didn’t want to get a stupid job and take orders from someone. I also didn’t want to be stuck in one location for the rest of my life – something I had experienced with school and I was (and still am) very opposed to.

Until fairly recently, boredom, rebelliousness and frustration made up the core of my life story. Then I took a leap of faith. I quit my job in May, I flew to LA to freelance for the summer, and no more than 3 weeks had gone by before I was given the opportunity to join an amazing start-up in Baja, Mexico. I, of course, seized the moment. Start-ups are the epitome of rebelliousness and opposition of the system. They are a culmination of brilliant minds, all working together to prove that things can be done differently, in a non-corporate environment. I love it!

I encourage all of you to get out there and find your voice. Take a leap of faith. Don’t just sit around wallowing in your own frustration and bitterness. If you want something to be done right, you have to do it yourself! Take your life into your own hands. Get out there and start doing it right – or someone else will. Which probably explains my all-time favourite quote by the amazing Eleanor Roosevelt, “Well behaved women rarely make history.” They don’t. Well behaved women (and men) are usually forgotten. And I don’t know about you, but I intend to do it right, and not be easily forgotten

Me in a cop's hat, Nottinghill Carnival '09

Twitter for Good: Change the World One Tweet at a Time by Claire Diaz-Ortiz

Having worked in the Marketing profession for several years now, I am well aware of all of the misleading and terrible information there is out there in regards to using Twitter. There are tons of people on Twitter who still have no idea how to use it (I would say a majority actually), and even more who think they know how to use it but still aren’t doing it right! Claire’s book, Twitter for Good: Change the World One Tweet at a Time, is one of the best ones I’ve seen about Twitter use. Aside from being extremely well-written, she clearly explains how to really develop an effective Twitter strategy and how best to implement it. Her well thought out explanations and examples are very useful and I can’t wait to put into practice everything I’ve learned from reading her book! Thank you, Claire!

Making mischief at Pure...

The following events are as much as can acceptably be revealed about what actually happened in Vegas. Much of what happened in Vegas must truly remain there (or it cannot quite be recalled…).

Every now and then, I think it’s healthy to let loose and get a little crazy.  Blow off some steam, get it out of your system, whatever you choose to call it.  This year, to celebrate both my birthday and one of my best friend’s birthdays, I set off to Vegas to do just that. Prior to Vegas, I had spent a month working in Todos Santos, Mexico – a small surfing town about an hour outside of Cabo – where I have since happily returned to after my adventures in Vegas. After spending a month surrounded by married couples and babies, and living in a town with virtually no nightlife, Vegas was beckoning for me, intensely. And, Vegas did not disappoint!

Friday, the day we arrived, I was the first one from our group to arrive at Las Vegas McCarran Airport. Two more got in an hour after me, Birthday Boy an hour after them, and the final two arrived later that evening and met us at the hotel. I landed around 1pm, giddy with excitement. Having quite a bit of time to kill (and a savings account that had been bracing itself for this trip for several months), I did what anyone in my position would do and I set off to find the nearest bar. Shortly after arriving at the bar, much to my delight, I received a phone call from an old friend who had just seen on facebook that I was in Vegas. He informed me that he too would be in Vegas in a matter of hours for a weekend-long bachelor party. I’m quite sure that the smile on my face then twisted into a devilish grin.

Once we had all found each other at the airport, we headed to the hotel – The Bellagio.  Birthday Boy’s amazingly generous mother got him a VIP suite for his birthday. Since we were VIP, we were, of course, met at the airport by a limo to take us to the hotel. Following that we were greeted at the entrance and taken to the VIP reception at the Bellagio, which is in a room that only a VIP hotel key card can open. While Birthday Boy got us all checked in, the rest of the group was cheerily greeted with freshly baked cookies, chocolate covered strawberries, and wine. Not a bad start to the weekend.

Birthday Boy and myself in the limo on the way to The Bellagio.

As we made our way to the VIP elevators, we were all giggling with excitement and anticipation at the weekend that lay ahead. And what a weekend it was!

Night view from our room at the Ballagio.

The view from our room at the Bellagio.

The first event of note was at 10pm on Friday. Birthday Boy and I had arranged for a stripper (male stripper) to come to the room. This was a comical situation. Guy strippers are very different from girl strippers – and it goes without saying that, generally, so is the audience. Birthday Boy and I had a highly amusing Skype conversation the week before in which we checked out some websites for male strippers in Las Vegas (not my idea). The site we went with had me fill out a form that indicated our top 3 ‘choices.’ The name of the stripper who was assigned to us was Brett. I received a text shortly after arriving in Vegas stating that Brett would meet me in the lobby at the Bellagio some time between 10 and 10:15pm. My phone vibrated with Brett’s arrival text just after 10pm and I headed down to the lobby to meet him. He text me that he would be dressed in a black security uniform – which was kind of a surprise because my confirmation email from the website informed me that Brett would be wearing a police uniform. When I spotted a guy holding a rather large boom box and wearing a security jacket in the lobby, I knew I had found our stripper. I walked over to him and extended my hand to introduce myself. He didn’t look anything like his pictures on the website. I said, “Hi, I’m Meghan”, to which he replied, “Hi, I’m Jason”. I looked at him a little confused and he quickly added, “Oh, or Brett, depends which website you found me on.” Great. This was already sketchy and we hadn’t even paid him to take his clothes off yet!

I led Brett up to the room making very awkward small talk. Thank God I’d already been drinking for several hours! He had an extremely high level of energy and said he was very enthusiastic to “get the party started”. I really wonder what the other people in the lobby were thinking as we walked towards the VIP elevators. I was dressed in a scandalously short and tight black dress with insanely high heels, walking with a guy dressed in a black security uniform and holding a boom box on his shoulder. I’m sure people must’ve thought we were some sort of an act! A few heads definitely turned as we walked through the busy Bellagio lobby. Brett, or Jason, was definitely an interesting person, to say the very least. I wish I had a picture of everyone’s faces when I opened the door to the room to lead him in.

At his command, we made a circle of chairs around him and he started his ‘act’. It was quite possibly the most awkward and uncomfortable 60-minutes of my life. Even Brett, or Jason, or whatever his name was, noted our group’s lack of enthusiasm.  It wasn’t because he was ugly – he was a pretty decent looking guy, he just wasn’t what we were expecting. He was really peppy and talkative and it just made everything seem kind of awkward. I’ve seen male strippers in action before at bachelorette parties and this one was, for lack of a better adjective, slightly unprofessional. I literally sat back in my chair and inched away from him, avoiding eye contact and jumping up to make myself a drink every time I thought he might try and give me a dance! It was an interesting 60-minutes, and Birthday Boy and a few other willing members of the group were sufficiently harassed. Though I’m proud to say that I survived the experience unscathed.  We had an interesting round of question time with Brett, or Jason, when his act was all over and we offered him a drink. Looking back now I cannot help but laugh at the kind of questions we asked him, and how heightened our level of interest was towards him after he put his clothes back on! He informed us that he was bisexual and he told us about some of his more interesting clients and events that he’s worked at. Let’s just say that Brett has done some interesting things for clients in the past! Apparently he moved to Vegas to several years earlier to save up money as a bartender and to try and get into show business, but somehow along the way he fell into stripping. It also seemed fairly clear to us that Jason was high on more than just life. Regardless, I take my hat off to him, and anyone else who can maintain such a high level of enthusiasm from such an unenthused group! He declined a drink and said he had somewhere to be, so I escorted him back down to the lobby and told every one to meet me down there when they were all ready to go clubbing.

As we stepped out of the VIP elevator, in an interesting turn of events, Jason turned to me and said, “Hey gorgeous, so can I buy you a drink?” Now, to put it lightly, I was completely caught off-guard. I definitely wasn’t expecting the bisexual male stripper who I had just seen rub his nakedness against my best gay friend, and whom I had just handed a giant wad of cash to, to want to buy me a drink! I stifled back a laugh and said, “Ummm, what?” He smiled at me, completely unabashedly, and said, “What, can’t a guy buy a girl a drink around here?” Was it really that simple in his mind? I had to admire his confidence though, and his utter shamelessness. So I said, “Okay, I guess if we go to the bar in the lobby then I can have everyone meet me there when they’re ready to go out.” He grinned and said “Great!”  As we walked towards the bar all I could think to myself was, am I on a date with a bisexual male stripper?

After we ordered our drinks, Jason looked at me and said,  “So, my real name isn’t Jason, it’s actually Tim.” No surprise there! I still kind of wonder what his real name actually is. The rest of my drinks experience with Tim was oddly, pretty normal considering the circumstances! Granted, it was kind of hard to take him seriously after having just seen him do what he had done 30-minutes earlier, but otherwise, it seemed like a normal drink between a guy and girl at a bar in Vegas. He had even put on jeans after his ‘show’ so he looked like he was wearing normal clothes. With the exception of the boom box on the table, we probably just looked like a normal couple (ha). Just as I was nearing the end of my drink, Birthday Boy came to find me (I had text him to come get me, post haste when we got to the bar). We said our goodbyes to ‘Tim’, who asked me to please call him if I was bored at the club (As if that’s even possible in Vegas!) and we made our way out. Looking back now, I’m not really sure how the responsibility of escorting the stripper out fell on to my shoulders, but all in all, I think I handled it pretty well.

Us with Brett, or Jason, or Tim

We headed to XS, the nightclub at Encore, that night – which is very aptly named. Not one of us was even close to sober when we arrived in the club, and less than ten minutes after we got there we were all separated! One of the other girls in our group – let’s call her Amy – and I were together at the bar, the rest of the group was nowhere to be seen.  I distinctly remember talking to Amy at the bar and then hearing some English accents further up the bar. I turned to Amy and I said, “We’re hanging out with them!” Amy and I soon fell in with the likes of what turned out to be a bachelor party from Manchester, celebrating in Vegas for 10-days (which is insane). We had ourselves quite a good time with a very merry group of lads. I’d been feeling pretty homesick prior to my trip to Vegas, having not been in London since the end of May, so it was nice for me to find some Brits for a few hours.  The rest of the night is definitely a little hazy – I have flashes of memories that involve some dancing on tables with at least 5 other people, and a considerable amount of time spent queuing for the toilets. In short, it was indeed a very crazy night, and a very fun one.

The next day, Saturday, was Wet Republic at the MGM, which I had been to several years earlier, and to say the least, it has changed dramatically! As soon as our taxi pulled up outside of Wet Republic, we could hear the base from the speakers thumping. We initially had a few problems at the door. One of our friends was a little worse for wear. He hadn’t slept at all the night before and had been drinking steadily since his arrival (actually since before his flight) the day before. The bouncers immediately recognised that our friend was in no condition to come in. Damage control ensued. We gave drunkie a room key and put him in a taxi back to the hotel. Then we focused on getting ourselves in. A simple name drop from our well-connected Birthday Boy, and the entrance fee was waived and we were directed to go in via a private entrance (though that didn’t stop security from searching us and our bags to a point that bordered on sexual harassment. They took my Advil and my chewing gum! Really, though, I think the bouncer probably just had a headache from all the loud music and wanted to cover up what I can confirm was some fairly unpleasant smelling breath.). Walking through the huge gates into Wet Republic, we were all a little shocked at the madness that lay before us. The venue looked like one of MTV’s Spring Break parties. It was crazy, insane, pool party madness and raunchiness like something I’d really only ever seen before on TV.  Suddenly the security made a little more sense to me. The pool itself can only really be described as a bacteria cesspit of nastiness. It was packed. Literally, there were hundreds and hundreds of people packed into Wet Republic, all with drinks in their hands and loud music thumping in the background. The people around us were all bumping and grinding, making out and basically humping shamelessly. I felt as though there was a strong chance I might get pregnant just by submerging myself in the water from the waist down. When I was too hot to handle it anymore though, I eventually succumbed and put my whole head under. When I came back up from the murky depths of a pool that, in my opinion, needed a hell of a lot lot more chlorine, there was a lime stuck to my chest and straw in my hair. Nice. Later I found a soggy cigarette butt in my top. This may all sound a little disgusting (and I mean, it really kind of was), but somehow it worked. I had a blast at Wet Republic and I think I’d recommend it. It depends what you’re looking for though, it was a little crazier than what we all had in mind, but the whole weekend I was of a ‘When in Rome’ kind of mentality so I just went with it.

The pool at Wet Republic

Around 3ph ish, the majority of the group was starting to fade and wanted to go back to the hotel. I was not part of this majority (I rarely am). Neither was my friend Amy. We said our goodbyes to the departing members of our group and, as they went back to the Bellagio to shower and nap (quite sensible really), Amy and I got in a taxi to Vdara, one of the newer additions to The Strip, to see my old friend – let’s call him Matt – who was in Vegas for the weekend-long bachelor party. Amy and I were not the soberest of girls as we made our way into the swanky entrance of Vdara, but no one seemed to be judging us (we didn’t think so at the time anyway). After going to several incorrect locations, we eventually found Matt’s room and were greeted warmly by Matt and his friends. Matt is an old friend of mine and we’ve definitely had some crazy party times together in the past. He gave me a huge hug and immediately him and his friend called room service and ordered us champagne. Such gentleman!

Amy and I spent the next 3-hours sipping champagne and meeting several of Matt’s friends, including some of the interesting (for lack of a better adjective) ladies they had found and decided to bring back to their rooms. Matt and one of his friends were sharing a room, and a lot of the other guys popped in and out of periodically to say hi and hang out. There were apparently a lot more of them in the other rooms. After several hours, Amy and I were both surprised to not have any missed calls on our phones. I was worried we were in trouble for straying from our group for too long so we headed back to the Bellagio, feeling a little like teenagers out past curfew, with no idea what was waiting for us back in our room.

When Amy and I opened the door to the room, we really had no idea what to expect. We assumed everyone was mad at us for ditching them. What we didn’t expect was for everyone to be fast asleep, and one of our friends (drunkie) to be standing alone in the dark kitchen chugging from a bottle of vodka. We turned on the light and looked around, confused. Apparently, in turning on the light, we startled our wasted friend and he stumbled, knocking a glass onto the kitchen floor. Glass went everywhere. Then the rest of the lights flicked on as the rest of the group started to wake up. People were grumpy. Amy and I weren’t. It was kind of awkward. There was some definite yelling when it was discovered that drunkie had cut his foot and left bloody footprints all over the room. Plus there was the broken glass in the kitchen. And it turns out that drunkie had thought it would be a good idea to smoke a cigarette in the bathroom. In short, the room was not entirely different from a war zone – though not quite as bad as the opening scene of The Hangover. I distinctly remember turning to Amy and whispering, “Do you think Matt would mind if we went back to his room for a few hours?”, which of course resulted in silly girlish giggling that was lost on everyone else because they were all either grumpy from having just woken up from a 4-hour nap, or they were so drunk they didn’t even know their name.

That night, our fairly moody and not sober group made its way to Bank first, followed by Pure. This is the part of the trip where my memory gets a little hazy. Bank is the Bellagio’s big nightclub. Apparently, it used to be very cool but I can confirm for you that it no longer is. It wasn’t bad by any means, but it definitely wasn’t ‘Vegas’ in terms of the wow factor. And our bartender was a complete asshole. After we got inside, I was really excited that it would be my birthday in about 30 minutes. So, naturally, I was a little hyper and, notably, not quite sober after a long day of drinking. I went to the bar to order a Bacardi and Diet Coke and the bartender handed me back something that was pink and sweet smelling. I asked what it was and he responded, “its what you ordered”. An asshole, great. I smiled my fake smile and cocked my head to the side, and I reminded him (very politely) that I had ordered a Bacardi and Diet Coke.  Now, I can recognise that I was not completely sober, but even now, looking back, I have to say, that that bartender was a complete asshole! Fortunately for me, my friend (who looks exactly like Mila Kunis) took over when she saw the bartender being a dick and successfully ordered a round of drinks for everyone. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t enjoy Bank and we left shortly after our drinks. And off to Pure we went.

Pure is the rooftop nightclub at Caesar’s Palace. The club is actually several floors, but we were on the roof for most of it. It was a short-lived experience for me. I remember meeting a guy at the bar who’s birthday it also was, and his 21^st, so he was in a particularly celebratory mood. My friends and I did some shots with him and his friends and we wished each other happy birthday. Around 2am I decided I wanted to go and meet up with Matt and his friends, who had a table with bottle service at XS. I said my goodbyes to my friends and left Pure.

Our group outside of Pure

A lot can be said for being a girl on your own in Vegas. I walked right up to the bouncer at the front of the (massive) line at XS and said that I’d like to go in and see my friend, Matt, and that he was there with a bachelor party and they had a table. I added that I had no idea what the bachelor’s name was, or what the name on the table was, and that my friend wasn’t responding to my texts because his phone wasn’t working! The bouncer looked at my ID, wished me a very happy birthday and I walked right in! The bouncer also told security I didn’t have to pay. I couldn’t help but smile smugly as I walked in. I felt as though I owed the bouncer something for his kindness (plus I was well on my way to being completely smashed) so I turned around, smiled at him and said, “For record, you wear that suit very well.”  then I winked at him. Fortunately for me, he fully appreciated my shameless drunken flirting and leaned over and gave me kiss on the cheek and wished me a very happy birthday once again. The big group of girls at the front of the line were all glaring at me and whispering to each other about me. I can only imagine what they were saying. And then I wondered how long they’d been waiting in line…

XS is a huge club. I have no idea how many bars it has, in addition to its seemingly endless areas with private tables, and countless dance floors. I looked for Matt and his friends for what felt like forever! Along the way, a lovely group of gentleman from Delhi insisted on buying me a drink (I walked past their table several times looking for Matt) and helped me figure out where in the club Matt and his friends might be. How nice of them! In the end though, it was more shear dumb luck than anything else when I did manage to find Matt. We literally walked right into each other! And oh, the drunken enthusiasm with which we greeted each other! We excitedly jumped up and down whilst simultaneously hugging. Oh, sweet reunion!

After my joyous and drunken reunion with Matt, he took me over to his table to introduce me to his WASTED friends! Wow, what a fun experience it is to be a scantily clad single girl in Vegas joining a bachelor party at 3am on a Saturday! To say the least, it was a meat fest! I was warmly welcomed, and hugged, and ass slapped, and kissed, and hugged again, and offered countless drinks… You’d think these guys had never seen a woman before! It was very amusing and Matt was loving watching me soak up the unconditional love from all of his friends! I kept glancing over at him, and he was watching with a high level of amusement on his face. It was pretty fun! Whenever a song came on that I wanted to dance to, let’s just say that I had more than my share of willing dance partners. Oh Vegas, how do I love thee – just let me count the ways! Anyway, my recollection of the night after finding Matt is seriously hazy, but I can say that all of his friends were gentleman and one of my last memories of the night is one of his friends giving me a piggy back and carrying my heels through the casino at around 6am, to put me in a cab back to the Bellagio. Such a gentleman. Though, remembering how short and tight my dress was, I’m slightly concerned about the fact that I let someone give me a piggy back and how much of my ass Vegas got to see…

Sunday was rough. There’s no better way to put it. I woke up approximately two hours after going to sleep and my phone was blowing up – it was my birthday! Somehow I negotiated a very drunken me out of bed and packed my bags and got my stuff together and out of the room before our 11am checkout. Birthday Boy, Amy and I had a fabulous Bellagio brunch – with bottomless champagne – because on Sunday morning in Vegas, that’s kind of essential!

The rest of the day was, to say the least, bearable. After brunch, I met Matt at Vdara’s pool and we spent an hour together saying our goodbyes and rehashing on the ridiculousness of the night before. Then I found Birthday Boy (who, intelligently, had gotten a cheapo room at the Luxor for a $30 Sunday special). It was a long day, but eventually Birthday Boy and I made our way to the airport around 7:30pm – our flights were both around 10:30pm.  In our exhausted and spent states of mind, Birthday Boy and I both thought we should have some wine before heading to the airport. Good idea? Who knows? In my case, probably not. We were both so wasted already from a weekend of extreme indulgence, but it was my birthday, so hey, why not, right? I distinctly remember pulling into Las Vegas McCarran Airport with a bottle of wine in my hand. I insisted we finish it (because you can’t waste it, right?).  Then I remember checking-in. It finally rang true to me how very wasted I was when the guy behind the counter hesitated to hand me my boarding pass. He looked at my drunken (and smelly) self and said, “Miss, are you okay?” To which I responded, “What, who, me? I’m fiiiiiiiiiiiiine!” He responded with, “Miss, you look like you’re about to fall over!” Shit! Pull yourself together, Meghan! I felt like I was back in high school! I took a few deep breaths, snatched my boarding pass out of Mr. Alaska Airlines’ hand, and went in search of some food.

I destroyed Burger King. Over the next few days, my receipts from Vegas were literally falling out of all my pockets and handbags, and when my Burger King receipt found me I shocked to see I had spent a total of $37 there! Who on earth spends that much money at Burger King?  What the hell did I order? Who knows! All I know is that when I stumbled off of my plane at LAX at midnight, I had never been happier to see my baby sister (she’s 18 now, but she’ll always be my baby) and her best friend!

My little sis hugging me at LAX - I still have on my wristband from the pool!

My little sister took on her sisterly duties admirably that night. Concerned about the state of me when she saw me, she also probably realised she had no other choice. Aside from reminding me that I smelled bad, she was concerned about the stains on my shirt (her shirt). I looked down to see a mess of mayonnaise, ketchup, sweet and sour sauce and barbeque sauce. Oh dear, oops! My little sister and her friend viewed me with disgust and the windows were rolled all the way down the whole way home from the airport. Then, my amazingly fabulous little sister put me in a shower. She helped me wash my stinky hair and then helped me dry off. She put me in a t-shirt and some boxer shorts, helped me brush my teeth, and tucked me into her bed next to her where I immediately passed out. Oh, how I love my little sister! She is the best little sister in the world, I am quite certain of that.

Monday morning, my little sister’s alarm went off around 8am for her summer job working at the local gym. All I know is, when I opened my eyes, the combination of sunlight, the pop music playing her iPod and my destroyed body could handle no more. I cried out, “I’m going to be sick!” My amazing little sister literally picked me up, carried me to her bathroom and I was sick. It’s kind of amazing that after a weekend of such indulgence I wasn’t sick until the day after! But oh, was I sick! I spent most of that day on my little sister’s bathroom floor, cursing Vegas, myself and pretty much everyone I’d ever met. I didn’t feel normal again until Thursday! Well, welcome to Vegas folks – and what goes up, must come down!

And that was my 28^th birthday weekend in Vegas. I fully believe that every now and again, weekends like that need to happen. This is not something I necessarily condone, but I’m not gonna lie, every now and again (like once or twice a year), this kind of thing just needs to happen! Vegas is the ultimate indulgence haven. I love Vegas!

Happily smiling in the Bellagio Casino, at the beginning of the weekend...

Me, enjoying a moment of clam before heading to Bank...

Following are 10 things I learned from my birthday weekend in Vegas:

1)   If your friend is too drunk to get into a pool party at 1pm, don’t give them a room key and send them back to the room unattended! Especially not if you are staying in a VIP suite in the Bellagio.

2)  Do not try to drink a bottle of wine before you walk into the airport and after having hardly any sleep and two solid days of partying – you might have issues being let on the plane.

3) If you are a relatively good-looking girl on your own, you can walk right into a club in Vegas, regardless of the line.  If you are with a big group, you will have to wait in line and pay to get in. Split up!

4) Nothing is cheap in Vegas – I spent 3 times as much money as I had anticipated, and I’m a girl! Don’t show up without any money.

5) Take a shower before you leave! It sounds silly but lot of hung-over (or still drunk) people check out and then go to the pool, or just go straight to the airport on the last day. I remember going a few years ago and my one friend woke up from her drunken stupor and was so desperate to leave she threw her stuff in a bag, paid the room bill and cabbed it straight back to the airport. No shower. Just because you are wasted or deathly hung over and think everything around you is funny (or tragic as the case may be), doesn’t mean the people around you find you amusing or that they think you smell good!

6) Make sure someone you trust implicitly is picking you up from the airport. You will be exhausted and likely very hung-over. In addition to possibly losing your voice (I definitely was and I know a lot of people who have come back from Vegas without a voice) and probably not smelling very good. You will also be irritable, exhausted, and not necessarily up for a light-hearted conversation with someone you don’t know very well.

7) Go crazy! People in Vegas really understand the unspoken and unbroken code that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas! Step out of your comfort zone (or into it as the case may be), get a little wild, and do things you wouldn’t normally do. I highly recommend it.

8 ) Talk to your taxi drivers! The taxi drivers on The Strip are generally very sociable people with a great sense of humour and a high tolerance for drunks (among other things). They love hearing your story. They also like telling theirs! Tip them well (which you probably will anyway as the oxygen and alcohol buzz Vegas creates in you leads to, “Keep the change” becoming a pretty common phraseology in Vegas).

9) DO NOT, under any circumstances, lift up any item in the mini bar or in the baskets left out for guests in any of the hotel rooms on The Strip. None of those items are free and with the act of simply lifting them up, you will be charged. There are little scales under each item and as soon as the weight is lifted from the scales, the item is automatically added to your bill, even if you set it right back down.

10) Don’t bring anything you really care about out clubbing with you. After getting back from an epic night of clubbing in Vegas, you’ll likely look like you’ve just returned from a war zone! My guy friends always end up with ripped shirts, girls hair gets messy, high heels end up being carried, hand bags get lost etc. I didn’t even bring my Blackberry clubbing with me. I opted instead for my $9 pay as you go phone just so I had a way to call people, in case of an emergency.

Overall, the weekend was nothing short of an intoxicating, indulgent, hysterical, sleep deprived, drama-filled, emotional (in a way that only sleep deprivation and intoxication can explain), and crazily fun experience. I already can’t wait to go back…

For the last 3 weeks I have been busily working away in Mexico. I cannot believe how life has a way of making these things just work out. I said all of the things I wanted, I focused on them, and then they basically happened! The last 3 weeks have been jam-packed with work, adventures, new experiences and meeting loads of new people. New posts to follow soon with more details; some highlights so far include the Sea of Cortez, drinking the tap water (terrible idea), one too many margaritas, some serious off-roading, exploring some amazingly beautiful properties, early morning beach runs,and numerous late nights getting to know my new work team. I just didn’t want people to think I’d forgotten about them! I haven’t forgotten about Extremely Unconventional, nor do I intend to. I’ve just been busy down in Mexico!

At dinner last night when we toasted my little sister, my dad said a few lines from a poem. When he finished we all discussed the poem and its significance and none of us knew where it was from! My dad said that he had read it somewhere but he too couldn’t remember who it was by or what it was from so after dinner he turned to google and eventually found the poem. It is by Edgar Guest and I have posted it below. It is highly relevant to Extremely Unconventional and it resonates with my post ‘Sometimes you gotta say…‘. Ignore the naysayers, follow your passions and you will get it done!

It Couldn’t be Done

 by Edgar Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,
But, he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, as he did it.

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one we know has done it”;
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle right in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That cannot be done, and you’ll do it.

The night before my flight I stayed up till about 2am packing. I will be in the US all summer and I will likely be moving flats as soon as I return to London so I needed to have a very good clean out and pack thoroughly for the 3+ months I’ll be in the US. When I went to bed I had 2 bags packed and my carry on ready, barring my laptop and toothbrush which I would add the next morning. The next day, my friend was coming to pick me up at noon. At 11:15 am, as I was zipping up my bags, I thought that they both seemed a little on the heavy side so to play it safe I decided to look up Air New Zealand’s baggage weight allowance for economy. I got the scale out of my bathroom and I noted that both of my checked bags were teetering around 25kg, which was risky. Once on the website, my eyes quickly scanned the page looking to see what the weight allowance was, when I noted (much to my disbelief and utter dismay) that it said there was only a single checked bag allowance for passengers flying in economy on their long-haul flights! What??? Never, in all the years that I have been flying between London and the USA, or anywhere on a long-haul international flight for that matter, have I only been allowed 1 checked bag! What the hell is that? I refused to believe the website and I decided to call the airline. There had to be some kind of a mistake. I had never heard of such a ridiculous baggage allowance for an international flight! After being on hold for 20 minutes and listening to the same recording on a loop apologising for the wait and boasting about Air New Zealand’s ‘famous kiwi hospitality’, I was pretty unravelled. Absolutely freaking out is a much more accurate description of how I actually was at that point – heart thumping, sweat dripping down my forehead and lower back as I frantically unzipped both suitcases and ran in circles around them like a chicken with its head cut off – trying to figure out what was expendable and what was essential – and even more desperately trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my second bag and where I was going to put all my stuff with my ride now coming in less than 20 minutes! Finally, after 20 sweaty and anxiety ridden minutes, I was connected to a very matter of-a-fact gentleman from New Zealand who confirmed for me that what I had read was in fact true, I could only have one checked bag. He went on to tell me that in addition to only 1 checked bag, I could also only have 1 carry on (that was my back up plan out the window). My checked bag could only weigh 23kg (gah!) and my carry on could only weigh 7kg (not great considering I was planning on carrying on my laptop). What a terrible thing to do to a woman just minutes before she’s leaving to go on a trip for 3+ months! Not a good start Air New Zealand – minus 100 points and I hadn’t even gotten to the airport yet. Not good at all. Looking back now I feel kind of sorry for the man on the other end of the phone who was finally connected with me. If I could go back now and redo those moments on the phone with him I probably would. Poor guy. I can’t remember our whole conversation exactly but he was trying to tell me what my options were (even though there weren’t any options really), and I was slightly hysterical. I remember barking at him something along the lines of ‘You call this kiwi hospitality?? This is a f*****g joke! I have 2 bags and 2 carry ons!’, followed by, ‘No, I don’t want to talk to you anymore, my ride is coming in less than 15 minutes and I have 4 bags packed!’, before finally hanging up on him while he was mid-sentence. Poor guy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, it wasn’t a good start for Air New Zealand. When my friend picked me up I was absolutely shaking and the first words out of my mouth were “I think I’m about to have a panic attack”.

When I arrived at Heathrow I was a little more relaxed having aptly vented my frustrations about Air New Zealand’s less than adequate baggage allowance on Twitter and facebook, though I was still a little tense while waiting in the queue to check my bag as I had decided to ignore the only 1 carry on bag rule. I was carrying my laptop bag and an overnight bag (a Nike gym bag), in addition to my checked bag which I was fairly certain exceeded the 23kg weight allowance. I looked at the people in the queue around me and, much to my surprise, all of them seemed to have just one carry on and one checked bag. Obviously experienced ANZ travellers. Also, I noticed that all of the people behind the counter checking people’s bags were women. (Men are usually more sympathetic to the plight of a woman travelling on her own with overweight baggage. I might be speaking from loads of experience…) Fortunately for me though, I was greeted by a very friendly woman behind the counter who actually did seem to exude that ‘famous kiwi hospitality’. When I put my bag on the scale I thought my heart was going to thump out of my chest as I watched the numbers on the scale shoot up…26kg, crap. I thought for sure I would have to pay a stupid excess baggage fee. But the woman behind the counter just put the luggage tag on my bag and sent it on its way down the conveyor belt. Then she looked at me and cocked her head to one side and said “You have a beautiful smile”. Oh, I see. Well, if that’s what got me out of having to pay excess baggage fees then fine, I could work with that. I grinned at her and thanked her very much as she handed me my boarding pass and passports back. Phew! She didn’t say a thing to me about my huge overnight bag and laptop bag (both busting at the seams and clearly weighing me down far more than the carry on allowance of 7kg).

I walked through security and the guy at the retina scanners followed up the ANZ woman’s comment with, “Great smile”. I had to do a double take and look behind me to make sure he was talking to me! The people at security in Heathrow never have a sense of humour, much less try to flirt with you! I giggled nervously and handed him my boarding pass. He smiled at me and handed it back to me. I smiled nervously back at him and walked through and he yelled behind me, “and there it is again”. Damn, I was on fire! I had to smile after that! By the time I was though security I was in a pretty good mood.

When I got to my gate it dawned on me that I had forgotten to ask if I had a window seat (something I had requested when I booked my ticket). I looked at my boarding pass, 35H. Hmmm, that didn’t sound like a window seat to me. I was pretty sure a window would be A or K. I went up to the counter and asked if it was a window seat. The woman smiled at me and said “No, it’s not a window seat but let’s put you in 35G, it’s an aisle seat and it’s a better one than 35H.” Okay, an aisle was still better than a middle seat. ANZ’s hospitality was quickly making up for its poor baggage allowance.

Once on the plane I learned that row 35 was the bulkhead (yesss!) between business and economy. I was in the middle row of seats on the aisle. Not too shabby! Plus, to make things even better, I was seated next to a couple with a toddler and the toddler was in the seat next to me – so essentially it was an empty seat as he was in his parents arms the whole flight. I sat down in my seat with the baggage shenanigans from the morning already a distant memory!

The plane was clearly a new plane and I was very impressed. The flight attendants were really, extremely friendly and I noted that every seat had its own touch screen entertainment system, even in economy. I sat down and started flipping though the movie selection to see what I could watch once we took off. I was instantly delighted to see 8 pages of movies (with roughly 15-20 movies to choose from per page) and each passenger had the ability to make a playlist of movies. So, before take off, I had already made myself a list of about 10 movies I really wanted to watch. Some being old classics, and others more recent blockbusters I had missed in the cinema. There were also a ton of tv shows to choose from, most starting right from their pilot episodes and going right up to where they are currently. I also noted lots of video games to choose from and a remote control which when flipped over was a video game controller – something I had only seen before on Virgin Atlantic. Also much to my delight, as I felt the AC switch on at an extremely cold temperature, I took my blanket out of its plastic wrapping to discover that it was fleece! No itchy wool, static hair-inducing blanket for me! Ha! It was soft fleece, and it was huge, amply covering me and wrapping around my feet and shoulders all in one go. I was pleased. My pillow I noted also had a soft cotton pillow case on it. Very nice.

When we pulled out of the gate and the safety video started, I relaxed back into my seat for a short snooze.  I closed my eyes and listened to the safety video starting up in the background with two ANZ flight attendants welcoming you on board. They said “Kia ora, and welcome onboard…now we would like to run you through a few on board safety exercises…” and then the background music kicked in with Yazz’s ‘The Only Way is Up’, which completely caught me off guard. My eyes flicked open and I looked at the screen in front of me not sure if I could believe the music that had been selected for the safety video. As I opened my eyes, I watched the screen change from two ANZ air stewardesses standing inside a plane, to the inside of a plane with flashing coloured lights and the title, ‘Fit to Fly with Richard Simmons’ popped up on the screen. And then, sure enough, Richard Simmons bounced into the safety video, followed by about 10 other people, all wearing appropriate 80′s gym attire. Hysterical! Now they had my full attention. I laughed out loud and literally watched every minute of what were the funniest and most entertaining safety video ‘exercises’ I have ever seen. (I found it on youtube if you’re interested: Richard Simmons ANZ Safety Video.)

With the safety video all finished, I bundled up tightly in my blanket and felt myself drifting off as we took off. Not long after I woke up from my nap, the captain made the standard speech about us reaching our cruising altitude and how even if they turn off the seat belt sign you should still wear your seat belt, just in case. Then he introduced Lucy, the plane’s Concierge. What? That was another new one for me! Lucy got on the PA system and introduced herself and explained how her uniform differed from the normal flight attendants’ uniforms. She said she would be walking around the cabin throughout the flight and that she was happy to answer any questions etc. Impressive. When they brought dinner out a short while later I should really have not been so surprised that it was, once again, very good. I had roast chicken and mashed potatoes and the wine was included – no one asked me to pay. I feel like its been hit and miss with alcohol on international flights these past few years. I know on British Airways alcohol is still complimentary, but with United Air and Virgin I have had to pay in recent years (which I think is about as criminal as ANZ’s baggage allowance, and I handled it in much the same way when I discovered their amended ‘policies’). When I looked down at my tray and went to start my meal, I was pleased to note that the cutlery was metal – not the cheap plastic that most airlines have used since 9/11 and heightened security measures. I also noted that in addition to the main course, salad and bread roll, there was also a cheese plate and ice cream included with each meal. Definitely more than a standard airline dinner. I wondered what they were given in business and first class, as the economy meal already far surpassed what I had (sadly) grown accustomed to with other airlines.

After the meal was all cleared away and lights were being dimmed for sleep, I was still wide awake and very much enjoying my on flight entertainment. I flipped around with the different menu options and decided to order myself another glass of wine. The ANZ touch screen system was not just for entertainment, it is also used to order snacks and drinks (though you have to pay if you order through the screen). Just as I was starting to order myself another glass of wine, a flight attendant walked by and asked if I was okay. I said I was fine and I was just ordering a glass of wine. He was very friendly and he told me not to order through the screen because then I’d have to pay! He winked at me and asked me what I was drinking. Amazing! What a great flight attendant…and he kept my glass full for two more glasses. Now that is kiwi hospitality!

After watching a movie (and getting pretty tipsy with the help of my flight attendant friend), I got up to go to the toilet. I noticed outside of the toilet a large tray table folded out with snacks and soft drinks on it for people to just help themselves to. That was nice. Most airlines definitely don’t offer that either. The toilet as well was really nice (by airplane standards). The walls were decorated with drawings of bookshelves full of books about New Zealand. I noted the titles of some of these books and I was fairly amused. One of them being something along the lines of, ‘I like New Zealand – will you marry me so I can stay?’ and ‘A Sheep’s Tale, Baaa Baaa Ba’. Wow. I was surprised they went into such detail to even have New Zealand specific decorations in the toilet!

The rest of the flight was fairly seamless. I slept well for a few hours and breakfast was really good. There were four choices, which was just unheard of to me. I had a vegetable quiche and scones with jam and clotted cream. Don’t think I’ve ever had such a good breakfast on a plane before, even when flying first class! Just before we landed, Lucy (the concierge) came around and made sure everyone had the correct landing forms and knew where they would be connecting. When we landed the captain thanked us all for flying with ANZ, and he followed up his announcement with a few personal messages. First he wished one of the couples on board a congratulations on their marriage and said he hoped they would enjoy their honeymoon, and then he wished one of the crew members, David, good luck on the charity mission he was about to embark on, biking from San Francisco to Los Angeles for charity. The captain said David’s bike was stowed away on the plane and that him and the crew all wished him the best. And after my flying experience with Air New Zealand, I can whole heartedly say that I too wish David the best, and that couple on their honeymoon! I was in a positively good mood when I got off the plane and I will definitely be flying with Air New Zealand again. The morning after my flight  I woke up and enrolled in Air New Zealand’s Reward program.

Kia ora Air New Zealand, you’ve made a life-long customer out of me. Perhaps I’ll be able to use my air miles for a better baggage allowance in the future?

After rereading my responses to Dan’s questions this morning, I realised that all of the points I made in my application are still extremely important and relevant to my life. Should I ever need to be reminded of why I want to live the kind of life I’m setting out to live, I should just go back and reread my TMBA application! I’m going to set a reminder to myself to come back and reread this entry every few months to make sure I’m still on track. Thus, henceforth, my TMBA application will be my Mission Statement.

The written portion of the application was to answer 2 questions in 500 words or less. These were the questions:

1) ‘Why TMBA Semester III Could be Huge for Me’

2) ‘What I’m all About’

‘Why TMBA III Could be Huge for Me’

For me it’s not really a matter of why the TMBA could be huge for me, it’s more of a matter of how the TMBA would be huge for me. It’s not a gamble for me or a lifestyle I’m uncertain of; I know it’s the kind of life I want. Since I moved to England from the US at the age of six and realised how big and amazing this world is, I have literally considered every possible career and field of study that would enable me to be able to pair work with travel – from photojournalism, to travel writing, to teaching English in Asia. Yet I fear that each of these respective career choices could ultimately only last for a few years, and I’m not yearning for just for a few fun years abroad – this is a life choice. I want to have a career that I know I’ll be satisfied with for the rest of my life, one that is constantly growing and moving onwards and upwards with endless possibilities. Thus, I have wanted to learn the skills necessary to start my own, or to join, a location independent business for as long as I can remember. If I can find a way to use the skills I’ve already picked up along the way, then even better!

To work for a business, or to have my own business, which enables me to travel the world and make money doing it, has been my life’s ambition. Unfortunately though, I did not study business in university, and when I graduated from UCLA with a degree in English Literature, I needed to get a job immediately. So I have spent the last two years working in different marketing roles for large companies. Although I really enjoy marketing, in the last two years I have not learned nearly as much as I would have liked to learn. I have felt constantly dissatisfied and frustrated by my jobs and their prospects. I want more business exposure, I want to learn more, and I want more independence in my job. I want my career to move faster! I know that whatever large corporation or business I choose to work for, it will take me many, many years to rise to a respectable level, and even longer to be able to take the kind of time off I want to be able to travel around the world. I want, or rather, I need, to be able to work from anywhere in the world. Going to the same office, day in and day out, and having limited holiday time is not a life for me and I refuse to accept that that is my only option! I am so grateful that we live in a world with the internet, and I know that, if taught the necessary skills, I could work from anywhere on my laptop. I genuinely thirst to learn the skills that will enable me to live the lifestyle I have always wanted.

“What I’m all About”

People always tell me after they get to know me that I’m not at all what they expected when they first met me. I find this both amusing and entertaining, especially when people tell me what they initially thought of me. I’ve had a broad range of answers here – but to sum them all up – I think it’s safe to say that with me, what you see is definitely not what you get! People are usually quite surprised to learn that I’m not a girly girl (at all!!), I’m ferociously independent, organized, meticulous, a perfectionist, and a complete book worm (my Kindle never leaves my side). I also love to write; blogs, essays, short stories, press releases, copy, whatever, I love it. I’m not a big fan of TV (particularly despising ‘reality’ TV like Keeping up with the Kardashians – ugh, cringe). Pass me the remote and you’ll probably end up watching a documentary, a movie (I love movies), or BBC World News. I also love to party – there’s no getting around that and absolutely no point in leaving that detail out. I love going out, being social, meeting new people, dancing, good conversation, great food, great wine and great company in general. I’ll gladly stay up and watch the sunrise if the night was worth it ( provided I have plenty of time to sleep the next day)! I’m not someone who can pull an all-nighter and be fine after. Sleep is as important to me as food. My attitude toward life is very much a work hard play hard attitude – and I feel that both must be done to a degree of excellence. My passion for life is nothing short of intense. I’m equally intense about getting eight hours of sleep every night, eating right and healthy living in general. Keeping fit is very important to me and I absolutely love running and yoga. I’m also a big fan of hiking, swimming and tennis, and I’ve recently developed a desire to try rock climbing…

On an emotional level I’m extremely compassionate and sensitive. If I care about you and you are in pain, then I am probably in pain too. It sounds like a good quality, but it can be a difficult one sometimes as I care about a lot of people! (It’s funny writing this and trying not to sound like I’m writing a description of myself for a dating website!) I think I’m a really down to earth person and I’m extremely non-judgmental…and I’m passionate about everything I do.

To sum me up, I’d say I’m all about greatness – from the quality of people I choose to surround myself with, the standards I hold for myself, and the life I choose to live. I can’t (and won’t) do mundane, boring or just normal. Someone recently told me that the kind of life I want is impossible and that if want to travel around the world forever I’ll only end up lonely and alone. But for me, no existence could possibly be more lonely and depressing than one where I stay in the same place forever.