The plane bumped heavily onto the tarmac, Ryan let out a yelp and Drew swore more than audibly. Once the plane had stopped, the door was opened and the seven men descended, leaving the pilot to taxi away. The first thing they noticed was Adelaide was very different from wherever it was they had been previously. The most notable change was that unlike the intense heat they had experienced before, there was a strong, cold wind, which took them all by surprise. They hurried into the terminal and then hurried about until they found the entrance and the taxi rank.

“Oh finally, decent transport,” Drew gushed.

“Where are we supposed to go?” Brad queried.

Brad didn’t have to wait long for an answer as a burly taxi driver sauntered over. He stubbed out his cigarette and crossed his arms. “Weren’t you yanks in my taxi the other night?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Colin shrugged.

“Where’d you pick us up from?” Wayne chimed in.

“The Hilton. I was surprised ‘cos you don’t see many blokes dressed like, well, that,” said the taxi driver pointing to the Whose Line men, “coming out of the Hilton,” he added.

“Well, we’re the exception,” Chip grumbled.

“So is that where we’re heading to?” Ryan piped up, looking at Drew.

“Do I have a choice,” Drew sighed.

“Nope,” Ryan grinned and climbed into the taxi.

Colin, Drew, and Greg joined Ryan while Chip, Wayne and Brad followed in another taxi.

“So you like the city of the shallow grave then?” the taxi driver asked as they pulled out of the airport.

“Huh?” Greg peeped.

“Yeah, Adelaide, City of the shallow grave, South Australia, the serial killer state,” the taxi driver perked.

“I hate to ask, but how did it get that title?” Ryan sighed.

“Most murders in the Southern Hemisphere here. Yep, better watch yer backs, they like tourists,” the taxi driver continued.

“Who likes tourists?” Colin asked.

“Murderers,” the taxi driver chuckled.

“Well that’s heartwarming to know,” Greg swallowed.

“When did my life turn to shit?” Drew mumbled.

“When you first looked in the mirror,” Ryan jeered.

“Oh, you can talk, scrawny butt,” Drew hissed.

“Hey, I’m Mr Maslins Beach, thank you very much,” Ryan retorted.

The taxi driver let out a loud chuckle. “Mr Maslins, hey!”

“Yeah…you know about it?” Ryan inquired.

“Doesn’t everyone?” the taxi driver mused.

“Well, we were a little, ah, intoxicated. It’s all a bit hazy,” Colin piped up.

“Really? You should go check Maslins out fellas, might jog your memory,” the taxi driver said, winking into the mirror. Ryan suddenly felt quite unsettled.

It wasn’t long until both taxis idled into the drop off zone at the Hilton. Drew paid the fares (reluctantly) and then everyone piled inside.