The DadLadTour (Now Actually In Switzerland)

Day 1 (Part 5) – Zürich (post-match, late night)

*** I almost forgot to mention a few other things about yesterday (our Day 1).

So, before I move onto Day 2, here goes…***

Day 2 will follow…I promise.

July 9th 2025

Forgotten Thing #01:

While watching the Lionesses thrash the Dutch, one of the young women we had been chatting with draws our attention to two men a few rows below us and nearer the aisle. Both are wearing “referee” shirts – probably nearer in style to an American football umpire’s shirt than a “soccer” ref – but they obviously intend to be viewed as “match officials”. They look somewhat alike; similar hair, albeit one is dark and the other lighter haired; and both wear spectacles. Perhaps they are brothers?

The reason we notice them – and, once noticed, we cannot stop watching them – is because they both hold flags. Their flags are not like the five-feet-by-three flag I positioned earlier, or the Netherlands and England flags that fans are cheerily waving. They both hold an assistant referee’s flag. Linesmen’s flags in old terms. Each time the (real) match officials wave to indicate a decision, these two in the stands copy them. Their arms fly out and they point for a throw in, free kick, corner…whatever has been given in the match. They are mesmerising. Quite daft and peculiar but mesmerising to watch.

I name them Statler and Waldorf – after the old guy puppets from The Muppet Show – because they both look so serious and never seem to crack a smile. Although, to be fair, the real Statler and Waldorf do enjoy a good chuckle. And, like their Muppet namesakes, these two have us laughing.

However, Statler and Waldorf’s shenanigans prove to inspire the DadLadTour team later on during our trip.

Forgotten Thing #02:

While heading back to the apartments we again undergo another “travelgate” drama when we fail to locate the tram stop we need. We hunt all over. Outside and inside Zürich Hauptbahnof – train station – to no avail. After schlepping around for some time we spot what looks to be a station official. Maybe she’s a ticket inspector or a driver? She’ll be able to point us in the right direction.

We chase after her. She appears in a hurry – probably heading home after her shift driving passengers around the city – but we waylay her and ask where we can find the tram number we want. She looks puzzled and obviously keen to get home. She explains this is a train station, no trams. We ask her again, trying to explain. No trams! She repeats.

We thank her and leave her to hurry on her way.

We stand bewildered. Unsure where to go. We are in a right ol’ jam here.

A young man has been watching us. “Eh, up!”, he’s seen we are lost tourists. He’s either going to lure us somewhere dark and rob us, or we’re both going to be trafficked around Switzerland as sexual toys. It occurs to me that my best days are behind me and that Liam will fetch better prices for the international sex-trafficker; Liam is, after all, the younger and better looking of the DadLadTour team.

The man approaches. I hold tightly onto BantamMonkey. Don’t worry, BM. I won’t give you up without a struggle.

He asks if we need help. Here we go, I think. I’ll be turning tricks before I can shout “C’mon, Lionesses!”

Closer up, he doesn’t look how I thought an international sex-trafficker would look. I’m not certain that a huge musical instrument case – in this case (geddit!! ha ha) a cello, I think – is usually strapped on to the backs of those types of seedy, villainous rascals.

Turns out he’s not a baddie. Just a pleasant young man looking to assist two perplexed strangers.

It seems we should have been looking for a train and not a tram. He shows us which platform to head for and that we need to take the S7 train.

We really need to up our tram game while we are in Switzerland.

Forgotten Thing #03

Back at our apartment, and safe from the clutches of what was either a sex-trafficker or a young composer, we notice the number on Liam’s apartment door.

It’s a big “23”. Russo’s squad number.

LuckyOmen#No5