Or maybe Melbourne will only bring out the fool in me.
On Friday, because it was raining when I woke up, I wore a short flouncy skirt with black leggings, boots, and a long-sleeved top. By early afternoon, after walking for 45 minutes down Elizabeth Street in the now-not-raining-actually-very-very-hot-sunny-weather, I was melting. Panting. Suffocating.
Suddenly, all I could think about was finding a public bathroom and peeling off my leggings. Letting my knees feel the air. Oh, the dream of no longer melting, panting, suffocating…
Now, readers, what do you suppose happened? Could I find a public bathroom?
No. No, I could not. Melbourne may have lots of cute alleyways housing lovely coffee shops and shoe stores that I forbade myself from entering, but coffee shops and shoe stores are not good places to get temporarily almost-naked.
As the minutes ticked by and the sun kept being sun-like, my body told me that if I didn’t get my leggings off soon, it would faint in the style of an upper-class romantic-era corsetted-lady.
I lost all sense of rationality.
I found myself ducking into a small shopping arcade, going up a flight of escalators, and wonkily making my way to a corridor housing an elevator and – praise be! – a little indent in the wall opposite the elevator. This indent was about 30cm deep, and housed a locked emergency exit door.
I pressed myself into the hole in the wall and, as quickly as I could, took off my boots, hoisted up my skirt, and started removing my leggings.
The Uh-Oh Moment:
When I had my right leg (gloriously!) free and the left one wavering up in the air as I rolled the fabric down it, the elevator door directly opposite me made a sing-song-ding-dong noise and opened.
Dear Middle-Aged Melbourne Couple: I’m sorry you had to see that. Might I offer you a spoonful of my 1.4kg jar of peanut butter as recompense? I’m sure your eyes will recover in a day or so.
Yours, the frantically-undressing Canberran girl who gave you a fright.