Firstly, it has been a glorious Autumn weekend here in Sydney and the riding was awesome. Which brings me to my story, not related to riding.

My chief riding buddy is my brother Marc. Now that he lives in Melbourne we don’t get to ride together as often, as we are separated by some 900km. A year ago we all celebrated his marriage to my awesome sister-in-law. So it was a trip down to Melbourne that we all made looked forward to all year. For the wedding I was entrusted with only two tasks; witness the signing of the marriage certificate, and bring my brother and his future wife’s overnight bag to the wedding reception.

The first task was easy, I got a look from the newlywed couple in the church and that was my cue to issue my autograph. The church ceremony was beautiful and went off without a hitch.

We returned back to the apartment we rented for the trip to drop off the Pok with his babysitter for the evening. This gave me a chance to pick up their overnight bag and make our way to the reception by taxi so we could enjoy a few glasses of wine for the night. It was a great venue in the middle of Albert Park on the lake.

Carousel Albert Park

Arriving at the venue we were greeted out of the taxi by the venue staff and the other guests who would be celebrating the wedding. We were keen to jump out and get stuck into the festivities, it was turning out to be a great wedding. I got the chance to mingle and talk to some of my family members while waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. It was when I was talking to my Aunt that I realised mid sentence that I had left the bride and groom’s overnight bag in the boot of the taxi! Sh!t! I ran back to the doorman, leaving my Aunt to wonder what she must have said to offend me. By that stage 45 minutes had already passed.

So I told the doorman my dilemma, and he asked me how we had arrived? I told him that my mode of transport was a Melbourne taxi, and it was yellow. With that he let out a chuckle. See the image below.

Melbourne Taxis

So here is the thing, 99% of taxis in Melbourne are yellow! He asked me if I knew what taxi company it was from. Being from Sydney, I had no idea what companies operated taxis in Melbourne. All I knew was that it was a yellow taxi and it had a large boot with luggage in it.

The doorman said to me he would put a few calls out, but asked me to give him some time and don’t tell the bridal party just yet.

Marc and Sal arrived after we took our seats. I informed my wife who reminded me of how stupid I was (absolving herself of any shared culpability – it was my job after all). As the speeches commenced and the entrees were served I was sweating it. I was not enjoying the wait, with no promise of a good ending. I cast many glances over to the doorman who just shook his head, indicating no luck so far.

As soon as the entrees were finished and there was a brief respite in the reception ceremonies I rushed over to the doorman to get the latest update. He had managed to contact all the major taxi companies and they said that they would put out a call to their drivers. But I had no idea whether the driver would be working through the night or finishing his shift. A lot of weekend taxi drivers call it quits before the drunken idiots decide they need a lift home. The sweat continued.

The reception party continued with the speeches, toasts, and main courses served. I was not relaxed at all. My wife continued to enjoy the evening, and with a few glasses of wine under the belt the story began to spread. Thankfully my brother and his wife did not get wind of it.

By the time two hours had gone and I was “bricking it”. The music had started and I was thinking of all the negative outcomes, and there were many. Another half hour had passed and the doorman called me over to provide me an update. He started by saying, “We managed to find the driver, but…”. I could not believe what I was hearing! But he got the response that he wanted, it was a wind up. They did manage to track the driver and the bag down. The bag was safely delivered and stashed away in the storage room for later use.

At that point I pulled out a $50 note and handed it to the doorman – he earned it. And their overnight bag had done a veritable evening tour of Melbourne city.

I could now finally enjoy the evening and have a beverage or two, while my wife proceeded to retell the story to any member of the family who was willing to listen (many). My brother and his wife were looking strangely at us and my wife in particular as they got a slight inkling that a funny story being told. Little did they know that it was at my expense.

The next day we all met up for post wedding drinks at the pub. I informed my brother and his new wife of what went on. He asked me why I even bothered telling him after the fact, and that ignorance would have been bliss.

I guess I got a lucky save.

Happy anniversary Marc and Sal!