Adventures In The Outback



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Ever had to wear a hazmat suit during an interview?  This is the sort of thing my baby sister (a veterinarian) always gets herself into.  Mind you, she was applying for a job to take care of apes who had been retired from research and still carried infectious diseases.  But it soon became apparent that the hazmat suit was needed for everyday tasks, as the apes liked to throw (Can we call it apeshit?) stuff at their caretakers.

My sister called immediately to tell me about the interview.  She was a bit freaked out and more than a little incredulous.  She told her potential employer she needed to think it over.  The apes were huge, loud, and aggressive; not quite the cute monkeys she had in mind.

I told her I’d had several jobs that involved having quite a bit of shit thrown at me, but I’d never gotten bombarded with shit during an interview.  (Well, maybe, but I didn’t realize it at the time...)

 Four showers later the same afternoon (the hazmat suit had not exactly offered the level of protection she expected and her hair still smelled), she accepted the job.

Fast forward five years:  The ape job has run out of funding, and my sister is heading out on a new adventure.  This time she’s moving to Australia to tend 4000 acres of sheep.  The sheep produce a substance that is used to make the anti-venom for rattlesnake bites, which are quite the problem in The Land Down Under.



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She phones en route and talks about how pretty and expensive New Zealand is (an overnight stop for her on her two-and-a-half day journey to Australia).  Her new employer put her up in a Hilton Hotel there and she was having a lovely time.

The next day I receive an email from her that says that she has arrived in Australia and has been deposited in “an 1850’s settler’s cabin with an outhouse.”  The email after that mentions that she "hopes to sleep better tonight, having finally acquired a pillow and blanket after work, after noticing they were missing too late to do anything about it the night before."  She has to stay in the settler's cabin for at least six months.

My sister is no stranger to getting dirty or even to primitive conditions.  While serving a stint in the Army she was pushed out of perfectly good planes in foreign lands to vaccinate wildebeests in the fields (or something like that).  But the tone of her email worries me, and I envision her in the fetal position on a dirt floor freezing to death.

Her next email arrives complete with an attached photo of a Funnel Web spider.  Her employer is warning her that these, the deadliest of spiders, have been recently sighted near her office.  I am not usually unnerved by spiders, but the photo almost makes me black out.

The next evening another email arrives.  It does not sound like my sister.  I rush into the den and shriek at my TV-watching husband: “Someone has Maggie!”  “Huh?  What?” he replies.  I explain that her email does not sound like her, and I suspect she may have been abducted.  “She’s just tired and fried,” my husband says.  “I know my sister, and this is not her!” I respond. "Just tired and fried," he tries again.

I return to my office and read her email one more time.  My gut still says something is wrong.  I ask a few questions and push “send.”  Minutes later I receive a reply from my sister.  It is bizarre and the conversation is not making any sense.  I worry all night.  (I still have no phone number for her.)

The next morning I receive an additional email from my sister.  Turns out it is actually from her boyfriend, who is using the email account Maggie formerly used when living in her home out West before the move.  (I hadn't thought to check the email address in my excitement at hearing from her and seeing her name in the "from" line!  But hey, I'm not used to someone using someone else's email address!)  I reread the "abduction" emails with this new understanding and have a good laugh.

Later I receive a cheerier email that is really from my sister, explaining that things are just off enough in Australia to have kind of a Twilight Zone feel:  “Everything is the same, but it’s not.  They speak the same language, but they don’t.”  I’m thinking about how true that statement has been for me!



My baby sister, Maggie, Photo by Marianne M. Smith



Maggie emails once more and has finally stoked the fireplace and unpacked all her coats.  I think she’ll probably make it in The Outback.  But when she comes back for a visit, you can bet I’ll be checking that luggage for imported spiders!  Good Day, Mates!

Had any great adventures of your own out of the country?  I'd love to hear about them!  Please feel free to leave a comment.

Marianne M. Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com