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It was the last night of a European Tour and to arrive in London before lunch we were to catch an early ferry from France.
As it was our last day in Paris we headed into town in the morning. Before we could set the passengers free to roam the city, or should that be Paris (Rome) the city, I digress. We knew of a restaurant that was well priced and catered for groups. The day was a Monday or a Tuesday, early in the week, when restaurants would be seeking business.
I tell the passengers that I will quickly arrange the meal for the night and then they are free to explore the city and return to the restaurant at the prescribed time.
Fortunately the restaurant was open so I approached the person inside to make a booking. I soon learnt that he could not speak English and I already knew I could not speak French. I reverted to drawing stick people, writing a number to indicate the amount of people and a time on a piece of paper, at the same time indicating a gesture of eating with my hands. The blank look on the person’s face indicated his lack of understanding. Returning unsuccessfully to the coach I asked if anyone could speak French. One girl accompanied me back to the restaurant but admitted her skill at speaking the language was limited but she would try. Her attempts led to another blank look on the man’s face so we go back to the coach. I am betwixt ideas of what to do. I could not let these passengers go before something was organized and I was short on alternative restaurants. Another girl volunteers to try and help, so off we go again. As she stumbles with her French to be understood the guy suddenly learns English. My biggest mistake was not saying I was from Australia.
And so the time and place is fixed. The passengers are doing their own thing for the day and we meet for the evening meal.
The meal was good and the night went well. There was no need to leave too early as we did not want to be sitting alongside the ferry for too long, before it sailed.
We are underway and the rules are set that someone would speak to me throughout the night drive to keep me awake. As I drove the passengers and courier became too weary and soon I was out of anyone to talk to. After a full day of being awake and active, the evening meal with a couple of drinks made everyone relaxed and ready for a good sleep, including the driver.
At one point around 2 ish in the morning and I was driving through a small village when I realized I had just driven through an intersection with my eyes closed. The fact that the traffic lights were red or green made no difference as there were no other vehicles on the roads. I estimated my mini nap was about 3 seconds and travelling at about 60 kph that was 4 seconds too long. Try closing your eyes for 3 seconds and imagine driving at this speed, scary isn’t it?
With eyes open again I shook the courier and said if we are going to do this you have to keep me awake. He did and we continued on. Once alongside the ferry I rested and then took a good nap on board, while crossing. We were good for the last leg back into London.
Reflecting back, how dangerous was that? That was not my only late night drive but it rank as the most dangerous. On another occasion I was smart enough to get Chop to learn how to drive at about 4 or 5 one morning before I feel asleep. I know I am not the only one who ever did a night drive but did anyone else come close to death?
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