It was the best of times; it was the worst of times

"It was the best of times; it was the worst of times."

Yeah, I know it's a grand opening; too bad I borrowed it from a great writer. But, I believe Dickens would have chuckled to see me use it in a story about being kicked by a horny Kangaroo and pissed on by a Koala.

Several years ago, before the company I worked for threw me out with the garbage, they sent me on a trip to Australia to repair some machinery. As I live in Toronto, Canada, and it was mid-February at the time, I couldn't wait to get on that plane. After two months of shovelling snow and ball shrinking cold, I happily packed my bags with Tee-shirts and swimming clothes, like I was being freed from prison.

My wife was a great help in getting me ready to go. She seemed almost as happy as me that I would be gone for a week. I guess after being cooped up together for months, she was delighted to get me out of the house. On the day that I left, she had that, thank God, look in her eyes as she gently shoved me out the door and locked it behind me. I swear I heard her yell, “Yes,” as I walked to the taxi.

The last thing she said to me was what she always said whenever I travelled. It was a running joke between us ever since I met her on a trip to China and after several months convinced her to move to Canada with me. I would always laugh when she said, “don’t bring anything or anyone back with you.”

This trip was quickly put together as the customer had called two days before and refused to make the final payment of well over $100,000 until the repairs were done. Unfortunately, the only flight they could get me on sent me the wrong way around the world. I had to fly to London, England and then to Singapore before going on to Sydney, Australia. The thirty-nine-hour trip sucked the joy and will to live out of me and must have cost our company a small fortune.

The funny thing is that if the moron, on our end, dealing with the customer, had asked for pictures of the problem, I would not have needed to go. It was a simple fix that I could have explained over the phone. Needless to say, when I returned, he no longer worked for the company.

I arrived in Sydney at around midnight and was picked up by a guy from the factory. He wanted to take me directly to the site, but I was in no shape to be working with tools. I would have been lucky if I could find my penis at that point and certainly wouldn’t be able to diagnose a machinery problem.

He dropped me at the hotel and said he would pick me up the next morning. I collapsed on the bed, fully clothed, as soon as I entered the room and was rudely awakened four hours later by pounding on the door. The fucker was back.

I ripped the door open, scaring the shit out of the guy, and told the prick to wait a few minutes. After stumbling to the bathroom, trying not to piss myself, I finally found my penis and moaned in ecstasy as I tried to blast a hole through the back of the toilet.

After finishing the longest piss in history, I splashed some water on my face and chugged some mouthwash before joining the guy, whom I will always remember as the Idiot, at his car.

The drive to the pharmaceutical factory took about twenty minutes, with him explaining, non-stop, how he was the genius that discovered the problem. I was barely conscious to start with, but after listening to this guy blabber on for twenty minutes, I felt like I was in the Twilight zone when we arrived at the factory.

I was both delighted and pissed when we arrived at the machine to find that the part in question, which this idiot had installed, was upside-down. It took me about thirty minutes to remove and reinstall the part properly before watching with satisfaction as the machine worked perfectly, and the pompous pride this guy exuded, turn quickly to embarrassment.

I was scheduled to return home in five days, so I called the owners of my company in Canada and was greatly relieved when they told me to spend the next few days, at their expense, enjoying myself.

The first part of my enjoyment was the twelve-hour nap I took after returning to the hotel. I awoke feeling like a new man, well, at least a man, and took a long shower before going on a walkabout. After walking around for about an hour and feeling refreshed and thirsty for beer, I stumbled across a small bar that was loud with laughter and good music.

What a great find that place turned out to be. I walked in about ten at night and, after making several new friends, drank more beer than should be humanly possible before staggering back to my hotel at one in the morning.

Three of my new friends picked me up the following day and took me to a place, about an hour drive from the city, where I would be able to get up close and personnel with Australia's iconic wildlife.

That day would go down in history as one of the craziest days of my life.

We were there less than an hour before I met the Horny Kangaroo.

This picture was taken shortly before all hell broke loose.

It wasn't a big Kangaroo, but it was as strong as fuck and scared the shit out of me when it started climbing on top of me and making a weird sound like it was crying. My friends were laughing and telling me to lie down and roll into a ball. I didn’t laugh as I didn’t find this funny in any way. Would you laugh if a randy Kangaroo was trying to fuck you?

I wrestled with the horny bastard for a couple of minutes before finally getting to my feet and turning my back to run. That's when the fucker kicked me hard in the ass and sent me flying forward onto my face into a pile of what I assumed was Kangaroo shit.

My new friends had tears in their eyes as they came to my rescue and dragged me away from my new lover, while I tried not to look in the Kangaroo’s eyes, that was still enamoured with me.

Luckily my jacket took most of the abuse, so I spent the next twenty minutes in the washroom cleaning the shit off me and scrubbing my face.

The next couple of hours were both amazing and uneventful as we wandered around, checking out all the different animals and watching a show or two.

As we got to the end of our circle of the park, I realized my friends had saved the best for last.

Close to the exit was the Koala hut, where I would be able to touch and get my picture taken with one of the cutest animals on the planet. At least before that day, before I was peed on, I thought they were cute.

This picture was taken before the event that turned into an unexpected medical scare for me.

I felt awed as I held my hand on a Koala’s back while getting my photo taken, before it suddenly turned and screamed at me.

I mean screamed!

It was loud and sounded like something out of a slasher movie. I pulled my hand away in shock, and as I did, the not-so-cute little fucker, turned its rear my way and pissed all over me.

I rushed out of the hut, gagging on what I was sure was Koala piss as my friends chased me, pissing their pants with laughter at my second misfortune of the day.

That's when it really got strange.

A middle-aged couple that had witnessed my golden shower hurried up to me and said, " Sir, you should get cleaned up right away and go see a doctor."

I thought, “What the hell for? They don't piss acid or something, do they?”

They informed me that 80% to 90% of the Koala population carried Chlamydia. Apparently, there were two strains, the first of which, and most common in Koala's didn't affect humans.

But the second strain, unfortunately, (C. pneumonia) can be transmitted to humans. If an infected koala urinates on a person, it can possibly transmit this strain of Chlamydia to the human.

I saw a doctor before heading back to Canada with a letter for my family doctor explaining what happened. Both the Australian doctor and my doctor at home prescribed an antibiotic just to be safe but informed me that the odds of me catching the disease were very low.

My wife laughed about the event and said,

“I told you not to bring anything back with you.”

Nothing terrible happened to me as I wasn't infected, but I learned a valuable lesson.

When travelling down under, try not to stand down under a Koala.