“This balcony has got to be bigger than my entire bloody flat.”
Is what I thought when I arrived at a friend’s birthday party the other week.
Considering the balcony was holding a massive paddling pool, a hammock, chairs, a sofa, a fridge and a barbecue, I’d put money on being right.
Seriously, look at that pool and that view.
You can see the inflatable flamingoes. They bobbed around happily in the pool, waiting to have drinks cans shoved into their backs. Problem was, if the can was more than half full the flamingo drowned… along with the drink. Put your ear close enough to the water and you can hear laughter. Laughter that sounds suspiciously like the wheeze of a deflating pool toy.
I decided against trusting an air-filled pink bird, and settled into a deckchair to take in the Osaka skyline. Had to resize this down for you, because I took such a high-quality picture WordPress tried to give itself a hernia.
Compare to the view that greeted me when I moved into my place.
I made the comparison, but let’s be blunt: there is no damn comparison here whatsoever. My view off the balcony makes Alcatraz look scenic.
As you might’ve guessed, I didn’t want to leave. I could’ve stayed staring at contrails and taking full advantage of the leg room for hours. Maybe even days or weeks.
Our peaceful enjoyment of someone else’s square metreage was sadly short-lived.
Oh, no! The flamingoes and inflatable watermelon ball are being crushed! By an inflatable seaplane, no less.
And, as any parent knows, inflatable seaplanes attract children like you wouldn’t believe.
Our rooftop utopia was invaded by small people… smaller people than me… in swimwear. They were ready – probably had been since they woke up.
What had been a sanctuary mere moments ago felt like a prison. The barbecue was in full swing, hemming off an escape route with smoke and delicious cooked meats. The balcony layout was such that to escape meant walking perilously close to children. Children toting full water guns and inflatable watermelons.
Chance of survival: zero.
What was I to do? Well, in the end I just opened another can of drink and stayed where I was for four more hours. It seemed like the safest course of action…
