The Union Jam

Well, that’s that. I’ve officially parked in the worst car park designed by man. Or woman…when it comes to something that bad, there should be equal-opportunity shame to go around. I honestly hope it wasn’t designed by any human; maybe they had it auto-generated, or they had an intern who was an actual chimp and this was his first project.

I was surprised to find that Big Ben’s British Bed n’ Breakfast even had a car park, especially for the price of the room (or lack, thereof). It was a decent size…except the whole thing was in the shape of a Union Jack, and that is just not efficient for any sort of parking movements. I tried to drive into one of the lanes made up of St Andrew’s Cross (the diagonal lines), but I was quickly boxed in by several other cars, with no way out.

Alright, so there are no qualified car park design consultants on site. I probably should’ve expected as much from an establishment where every new guest is greeted by the branch’s ‘monarch’ (the general manager) wielding a plastic scepter and sword, and then followed up the stairs to their room by staff members playing ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls on vuvuzelas. It’s a…’classic British tune’, apparently.

Funnily enough, I’m actually here to check out the traffic situation in Melbourne. I’ve always known that the roads in Brisbane were some of the best in the world, so I’ve come to bring some of that goodness here. Unfortunately, there are already traffic engineer consultants here, making the world (of this city) a better place. Maybe they’re from Brisbane? That IS something that slots neatly into my worldview. Still, it does mean that I can’t bring the good word of excellent traffic engineering firms to this place, because they’ve already received it. I flew all the way down here and now I’m staying in a place where all the alarm clocks activate at the same time, blasting Land of Hope and Glory in your face until you say the password of the day. 

This morning it was “pip pip, top hole!” I had to say it eight times before my tone was ‘spiffy exuberant’ enough for the sensor.