Bad Karma and the Unluckiest Girl I Know…

Bad Karma and the Unluckiest Girl I Know…

Once, I watched a bloke pull three grand from a poker machine. Fair dinkum. “Drinks on you mate, it’s your lucky day!”. “Fuck off – it’s karma” he snapped. Sporting one thong and fewer teeth – I had no cause to doubt him. So, since then, I’ve honoured his adage. Case in point: this girl I met in Malaysia…the unluckiest girl I know.

Straight out of the blocks, she was unlucky – born not just a red head, but also a Pom (that’s English). She’d beaten cancer, survived a scooter write-off, and fallen down mountains. Surely luck had to square the ledger…

We met in Penang on the night I was leaving. We grabbed some food, wandered the markets, and went for a drink. Then, as I dusted off my A-game, the heavens opened – spilling forth a deluge of biblical proportions. It was a rain that would even make Noah nervous. Running for cover, she slipped, slid, and sliced her foot. It was gruesome. We spent the night in emergency, and they saved her toe. But, as a rock climber, they should have just put her down. 

Two weeks later, with her stitches out and my hangover gone, we aimed for Thailand. But, on the way, her bus was stopped. The driver was arrested, and the passengers were stranded. The universe was trying to tell her something. This guy is bad news.

Have you seen this girl?

Finally, we met. I held my breath as she hobbled off a train – watching her trip, stumble, and fall on her hands. Helplessly she turtled under the immense weight of her backpack. I offered my hand, and she knocked it away. I liked this one…

After a famous week – she left for Taiwan. I headed north, listless, all moping melancholy with an acute bout of gingervitis. I’d spent my good karma, and was settling with interest. Maybe we’ll meet again, or maybe we won’t. So, here’s to karma, and the unluckiest girl I know.

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