A weekly ode to the joys of moaning about your holidays.
I should be celebrating. Everybody else seems so ecstatic about the end of departure cards, but I can't help but feel slightly bittersweet about the whole thing. Like I never really got to say goodbye. Not only that, I never did what I always vowed I'd one day do with the forms: have some fun with the "What is your occupation?" box.
I had fantasies of writing "POPULAR RADIO PERSONALITY" all in block letters, but worried I'd get done for a false declaration. Though at least "popular" is open to interpretation.
Perhaps "BATTLING BROADCASTER FROM STRUGGLE STREET" would've been more appropriate, though there weren't enough of the little boxes for the letters. I'd usually just settle for BROADCASTER.
I never knew what the deal was with those boxes anyway. Were we really meant to stick to one letter per box or could we get a little rebellious?
Then there was the question about how long you'd be away from New Zealand. If it was a decent holiday, this was a near-euphoric moment: "I'm away for 19 days!!" The question that often got me was the one about the main purpose of the trip. It would crack me up that the word "main" would be written in bold, as if the person doing the asking had years of exasperation about to bubble over of people not understanding the question. "I said MAIN!" It was so passive-aggressive.