I can remember in my early teens hearing tales of couples forming up, or “hooking up” while they were away on school camps and holidays. While I am sure the stories were largely exaggerated ( and what went on between teachers was probably far more interesting! ) the evidence was there on their return - and all that hand holding and lap sitting rubbed it in the faces of people like me who never went on such camps. When I finally did, I remember being utterly mystified how anyone hooked up. Apart from the environment being so controlled and artificial, I just could never imagine having the front to just going up to some girl and saying “so… how about it?”. It all just seemed so complicated and risky to me, and I wasn’t about to throw away the tiny bit of approval I had worked so hard to forge. Suffice to say, on the two camps I went on, I never even got close to “scoring”.
Sometime later, mum and dad took me and my is on a family ski trip - a flying 4 day bus jaunt to the Victorian alps. I remember looking around at the group that had assembled at the bus terminal, as most teenagers do, looking for kids my age ( and not spotting many ). On the bus me and sis rode shotgun behind mum and dad, with a friendly young couple behind us. A short way into the journey we got talking to some kids across the aisle, and mum and dad struck up a conversation with their mother, a gesticulating large Italian woman with a volumous laugh. The son, named Michael, was a bit younger than my sis and super keen on motorbikes. So we got locked onto talking about that, while the girl who was older than me alternated between talking to my mum and dad, and my sis.
A few hours and several hundred km later we all were playing musical chairs as kids on bus trips tend to do, and somehow I got talking to the older girl, who’s name was Gianetta ( I remember thinking it sounded like one of those sweet icecream deserts ). She was nice, and we swapped music cassettes and talked about music for a good 2 hours, before the gentle rocking of the bus and the darkness lulled us off to sleep. I remember waking up with a start a few hours later at some truckstop in Northern Victoria, looking across to see Gianetta asleep on my shoulder, with a sleepy smile on her face. I suddenly felt very, very awkward, as I got the distinct feeling she was maybe digging me just a little more than I was digging her. As pleasant as she was, Gianetta just wasn’t my type.
My balance helped me get the hang of skiing pretty quickly, and by lunchtime on the first day all I wanted to get to the top of the chairlift and ski to the bottom with my skis together… not in the snowplough like the instructor told us. The second and third days were at Falls Creek, and upon arriving I bolted up the Gully… hopped onto the Eagle, then up and over to the backside of the mountain to discover all the mythical ski runs I’d only heard of - Ruin Castle, Panorama, and The Big Dipper. I don’t recall seeing many, if any people from the bus, but I was happy on my own. I soon got the hang of calling out “single!” in the lift queues, and talked to anyone and everyone on the way up. I even got the odd ride up with one or two cute girls of similar age to me, which made it all the more fun!
On the third night we stayed at a guest house in Bright, and a small group of us kids had banded together to play Uno and compilation tapes on Gianetta’s cassette deck. There was a about 8 of us by this stage, including another girl named Diana ( pronounced dee-anna ) who I got talking to. I then remembered she was the one on the bus everyone had started calling “Lady Di”, due to the way she looked. She was a year younger than me, but I was amazed when she pulled a Devo tape out of her bag. I grabbed it, then ran over and ripped the boring tape out of the player and shoved it in. I remember dad walking through the large open area where we were and laughing that “dad laugh” that dads do, “Oh, and you’ve got your flower pot men on the radio!”, and all us kids just groaning and rolling our eyes.
Day four was the last day, and we headed to Mt. Buffalo - which due to the bumper season, actually had plenty of snow. But I was blistered and sore and skied out by that stage, and after an hour ski in the morning called it a day. I had lunch, and bumped into Diana at the overpriced kiosk and we started talking again. Soon after, she suggested we head over the other side of the road to the toboggan run, which seemed like a good idea. We spent the afternoon running up the hill in our giant boots, sliding down separately and racing each other. After a while we threw the other toboggan to one side and shared one. I lost count of how many times we hit the big bump at the bottom of the hill and got launched into the air, often landing on top of one another in the soft snow. We must have laughed continuously for about three hours.
After a long day the bus wound back down the mountain, alternating “prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp!” and “phssssssssssh!” sounds from the engine and air brakes. There was a quick stop at Bright, then we were on our way - home. I sat sleepily with my sis, sharing my earphones and a Eurythmics cassette she’d bought at the petrol station. As is turned out, Diana and her dad, a jovial man with a Russian accent and a belly laugh, ended up in the seat in front of us. We all got talking again, but soon my sis got sick of leaning over the back of the seat talking to Gianetta - so we all swapped around. Diana hopped in next to me, and sis squeezed around behind to sit with Gianatta. As darkness fell we carried on talking, and I remember losing track of time, and just being so absorbed by everything she said. At some stage we shuffled around and I stretched out across the two seats, and Diana climbed up onto my lap. It was strange, but I just didn’t think that hard about it… everything just seemed so easy and natural with her. In my naievity, I actually took her physical proximity as a sort of mateship - a product of convinience - a predictable yet ultimately insignificant follow on from the pleasant day.
After a few hours we fell into an easy silence, not feeling the need to say anything to one another and just enjoying the closeness. I remember a feeling of utter contentment, and warmth, and I am sure I must have been quite obviously grinning as I nodded off to sleep. I remember waking up somewhere with her head on my chest, and the smell of her hair as it brushed my nose. In my sleep she had moved my hand into the center of her chest, and had placed both hands on top of it to keep it there. And I remember wishing that we could just stay right there like that, forever and ever.
Somewhere on the outskirts of the city, the first rays of sun blasted through the bus windows. I studied her through one eye, and remember thinking, “this can’t be real” as I brushed a few wisps of blonde hair from her face. She slowly opened her eyes and let out a tiny, adorable yawn, and looked up at me trying to focus her eyes. I suddenly became worried about my parents or her dad being awake and seeing us - lest they make some cringeworthy remark. But Diana stayed exactly where she was. Perhaps she was in denial, like me.
All of a sudden the door of the bus flung open with a hiss, and the warm air began to flow out. We had stopped for the last time. Diana’s dad called to her and she suddenly got up, searching for her bag under the seat. I found it and pulled it out, and spied mum and dad rustling about in the overhead storage a few rows back. Moments later we were outside in the cold winter air, luggage piling up on the pavement next to the bus’s open cargo hold. Diana’s Dad joked with the Bus driver, and I caught a glimpse of her as she found her suitcase among the others. Then there were so many people in between us, all over the luggage now, and my parents gathering up all their gear. All of a sudden, the reality hit me… that this was the last time I’d ever see her. It had all happened to fast. I just wasn’t ready. Suddenly I felt the overwhelming urge to just barge through all the others and run up to her, and say something… do something… do anything. But it was too late - a taxi pulled up and I saw the driver get out and put Diana’s and her dad’s luggage in the boot. I stood on my tip toes to try and see her over the crowd, but it was impossible. A second later the taxi pulled out from the curb, and drove away. That was the last time I ever saw her.
Over the days and weeks that followed I tried desperately to find her - I knew she went to a well known private college - but I knew no-one else from that school. I went to the Royal Show on the day she said she might go, and my heart raced at every petite blonde girl with a short haircut I caught amongst the crowd - but none of them were her. I tried to find the passenger list from the bus to get her last name, but I couldn’t. After while I knew it was hopeless, and I gave up.
I was a little sad and mopey for a while, but over time that was replaced with a lovely, warm fuzzy feeling whenever I remembered her. In later years I wondered if that was how it was meant to be, that she should just fly in and out of my life. We’d never get bored with each other, argue, or outgrow one another.
Most importantly, I learnt how people get together - starting out as friends, and becoming comfortable in each other’s company.
I have her to thank for that.
Tags: TOS, general by admin
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