Being the crazy people that we are, Sarah and I decided to go to Sorrento. By bus. How else? (Well, I didn’t want to pay five billion dollars worth of petrol). So that entailed taking the train to the city, then changing to the Frankston line (argh!), riding that to the end and then transferring to bus. All in all, it took over three hours to get there (which means over three hours back!). We were warned by the bus driver that the buses now had ticket inspectors, and sure enough two guys got on at some point (one of them looked like Colonel Schultz from Hogan’s Heroes). The girl in front of us was freaking out because she didn’t have a concession card, but Schultz told her that he couldn’t possibly give a ticket to someone who had just turned seventeen (you need a concession card once you turn seventeen) and then started talking to us all. And that’s the first time I’ve seen a ticket inspector smile like in the brochures (Schultz assured us that this was because he worked for the bus network and not for the train one).
So we arrived in Sorrento and pretty much immediately (read: ran in order to) got on the Sorrento-Queenscliff ferry across the bay. I made the mistake of not putting on sunscreen then (we were sitting on the top of the ferry) and now have a lovely pink face, neck and arms (except the arms are a bit darker). It was a nice ride nonetheless, and you could the opening of the bay to the ocean (apart from that, it was all pretty much water… and some boats).
After a bit of sunning ourselves (luckily I applied sunscreen then!) and eating our packed lunch (salami sandwiches om nom nom), we walked into the town of Queenscliff and bought a large bag of lollies. That’s pretty much all we did in Queenscliff, because it’s mostly restaurants and motels; but it was good fun picking out the lollies, even if they did make the choice difficult by having about fifty different types. Confession: we ate them all. We took the ferry back to Sorrento and ended up swimming at the beach even though we hadn’t brought towels (we dried off quickly enough in the sun) and then went to a restaurant for dinner (and Asahi!) before taking the bus back.
When we got back to the city and onto the train at Flinders Street, this very inebriated fellow stumbled onto the carriage and flopped onto the seats in front of us. He flailed around a bit (Sarah took her handbag away in case he was going to nab it) before lying down on the seats and passing out. We weren’t really sure what to do (probably just leave him there?), but then he tumbled over onto the floor, so I went to prop him up on his side and he vomited. Tremendously. Luckily, I didn’t get any on me, but the stench was revolting and I almost joined in (very luckily, I didn’t). We called up the train driver, who stopped the train and called the ambulance (which, by the way, took way too long!). Way too long meant sitting there way too long propping up this mess of vomit, who kept mumbling things like “Please tell all the train people I’m sorry” and “I’m just a bit off my face”. Me: Yeah, kinda. Eventually, the crew came and I could go home and have a shower. (But not before we ran over a possum on the way home. Ew.).
What a day. (Oh, and the dog pissed on my bed and we had to change the sheets after midnight).