:mattLandia:

This is first entry in a series of entries documenting my 14 day trip to Melbourne, Australia. The first and last days of this trip are the most brutal, since each requires a minimum of 24 hrs travel from door to door. Here are some ramblings from Day 1.

Hour 4: I'm flying first class to LA, and they've actually put us on a jet large enough to have a first class. I'm sitting next to an nice old guy from Chattannoga, TN who sells carpet. His cheeks and nose get more red as he drinks rum and soda after rum and soda making him look like Santas harmless drunk brother. The flight is without incident, and I watch Collateral again.

Hour 6: I've been wandering around LAX for about an hour and a half. I'm leaving out of there 'International Terminal', a loud sweaty building that's has a huge number of South American families pushing around pieces of formless zippered bag luggage the size of a small Kia. I mean, what do they have in there? You would think they are smuggling people OUT of the US in there.

I am BORED out of my mind at this point. The Quantas lounge is nice enough, but you can eat so many baguettes and ginger ale, and the place is crowded with first class travelers who speak in loud hushed tones, and act as though life depends on how well they use a swizzle stick. I read a US paper, a UK paper (The Daily something - packed with UK gossip and alarmist news "Elton plames posh spice for Beckhams wandering prick or some nonscense) and a Australia paper (printed in an extremely wide format, making it somewhat unwieldy).

I wander through bookshop after bookshop, and settle on buying a James Patterson novel I haven't read called BIG BAD WOLF. His novels are decent enough air travel reading, and I need a little distraction to overcome the boredom. I also buy a pack of gum, Orbit Cinnamonaliciousburtsparkle or some other clever name meant to induce me into a buying frenzy. It worked I guess. I'm a complete fish in room of bait when it comes to airport gift shops. How else can I explain my growing collection of fridge magnets commemorating the various cities I visit?

Hour 8: We are about to board the Quantas flight. There are more screaming kids on this flight that I have ever seen. I've heard of orphan flights, where planes bringing loads of kids are brought to the states. I'm inclined to call this the demon spawn flight, where all the most heinous children in LA are being deported to Tasmania via Melbourne. I actually saw a little girl go up to another little girl and bite a chunk out of her arm.

Hour 11: No flight of mine can't pass without mention of G.I.L.O. (see previous posts for more information), the GastroIntestinal Liberation Organization that hides in my gut somewhere. The little buggers organized a terrorist assault on the stability of my stomach, making it nearly impossible to eat without getting sudden urges to puke. I swear, at times I want to just drink a bottle of bleach or something to kill the little anarchic bastards, but I suppose the collateral damage would be too great.

In any event, I couldn't really enjoy the dinner meal, and went to sleep hungry. Even the threat of impending vomit can't keep me awake. (It's about 3am Atlanta time).

Hour 17: I wake from about six or seven hours of uncomfortable sleep. I'm seated in the upper deck of the 747, and there are little cubby hole like containers on the floor between the seat and the window, making a bit easier to stretch my legs out a bit. It's still dark out and I've lost track of time. I switch my watch to Australia time and it's like 3 am still there, so I after reading more Big Bad Wolf, I convince myself that I should be asleep and go back to sleep.

Hour 20: Breakfast is spoiled again by GILO. Not as bad this time, but still no fun trying to eat. Instead, I watch as the sun begins to come up and I finish that novel. I thought the cliff hanger ending sucked, but Patterson makes a career out of writing these books, so I suppose he needs to have some sort of hook to get me to by the next novel. My body feels complete whacked out at this point.

Hour 26: We are about to descend into Melbourne. It's 9:23am there. It's 4:23pm in Atlanta. It's over 26 hours since I left the loft to start this trip. Don't I feel LOVELY. Anyway, the day isn't over yet. I still have to check into the hotel and then go to work. This ought to be interesting.

Hour 36: I made it to the hotel, and the hotel was good. It's 5:45pm now and I've just got back from my first half day of work. I feel slightly dazed right now, but I'm going to make myself stay up till my normal bedtime before passing out. Melbourne is intoxicating. The weather is dry, about 75, breezy and sunny. The streets are pedestrian-packed with the hustle and bustle of all good cities. I need to step away from the computer and get a little sun therapy before the sun goes down...