Day 1: May 1st, my birthday - The Journey Begins!!
Off to a rip roaring start! I woke up at 4:30 am, too excited to go back to sleep, I got up to finish preparing for my big birthday adventure! I still had a great deal to do because, as usual, I was too damn tired to do anything the night before, after a long day of work, followed by late night shopping, made longer by a hang over from the previous night's celebration of successfully completing a major project at work.
Note: for those of you who are not Aussie's, "late night shopping" refers to the ONE night a week that a store will stay open past 5 or 6 pm. I kind you not. (grocery stores and bottle shops not included). In the city, "late night shopping" is Friday nights, in the suburbs, "late night shopping" is on Thursday nights. I can tell you, that took a bit of adjusting when I first moved here, so accustom I was to stopping off at Walmart after work or midnight runs to the corner drug store for an emergency roll of toilet paper.
Late night shopping prompted even more spending purchasing more "things"! How many "things" do I need? I thought I was freeing myself from "things"! (see "Runaway Knickers" for details). Yet, here I was accumulating more! Today's list grew as I was assisted by the friendly staff. A large duffel bag was my mission, which they did not have, but, they did have a special camping towel, that drys quickly, a sleeping bag liner, a book about the Laraptina hiking trail, shoe laces, and who knows what else filled my bag and got charged on my already bursting credit card.
Preparation included cramming the newly purchased duffel bag with wheels (acquired at yet another Outdoor Adventure store, along with many other asundry "things" that somehow seemed essential at the time), into the newly purchased suitcase, that I had to buy on my way back from the US, as the last one (purchased less than a year ago) was already falling apart at the seams. Literally. After cramming the duffel bag with wheels (if it has wheels, is it really a duffel bag?), which took up most of the space of the suitcase, I was able to somehow cram all my newly purchased stuff on top of it, and squeeze the lid down, sit on it, and somehow zipped it up. Why, you might ask, did I not just cram all my stuff into the duffel bag directly, and leave the suitcase at home? There is a valid reason, read on my readers...
As a taxi is obscenely expensive, but taking the train required transferring from one train to another, as we all know me, there is great potential for boarding the wrong train, or the first train arriving late, causing me to miss the send one and thereby miss the flight.
I came up with a brilliant plan. I would drive to the last stop on the line, park the car and take the train from there! Brilliant! I googled the station on the Internet to see if they had parking - 53 spots, on a Saturday, this should be enough. With my brilliant plan in place, I happily went about my last minute packing, showering and beautification process, which seems to take longer and longer each year.
After realizing that I could not pre-board online (for some reason, I never can with Quanta's), that, plus the fact that I haven't unpacked my printer yet, and even if I had, it's out of ink. The brilliant train idea was cutting it a bit close. Taxi - expensive, driving/parking at the airport, even more expensive. However, now that I am a country girl (of sorts) again, lord only knows what time the cab would show up, and with no luxury of extra time,the drive/park option won. Although never having driven to the airport from my new home, who knew how long it would take? I will have to keep my fingers and toes crossed that I don't get lost - since I am too cheap to purchase a GPS. Plus, I just can't stand having someone telling me what to do. "In 300 meters, turn right". What if I don't feel like turning right? TURN RIGHT - the voice gets louder as we approach the intersection. I SAID, TURN RIGHT, it screams as I cruise right pass (just to piss it off, ofcourse) . Then it yells: HAVING TO RE CALCULATE THE ROUTE because SOMEBODY didn't TURN RIGHT like THEY WERE SUPPOSE TO! and then it screams RECALCULATING ROUTE! RECALCULATING ROUTE! until you are about ready to recalculate it by throwing it out of the window and watching it smash to little bits on the ground. So, no GPS for me.of. Anyway, according to Mapquest, I still have plenty of time. That is, until I attempted to enter the freeway, only to discover that they had closed it for night/weekend road works. Yes, they just shut down the freeway and routed traffic elsewhere. I stare at the car clock in horror. Was there even a pray of me making my plane? I started reciting the alphabet in attempts to prevent myself from hyperventilating.
When reciting the alphabet and counting sheep failed to calm my quacking nerves, I decided to ponder deep, soul searching questions, such as: why do Australians call it "Road Works" and Americans call it "Road Work"? Why do they call it "computer codes" and we call it "computer code"? Why do they say "rocking up" and we say "showing up". Why do they say "shops" and we say "stores"? Why do they say "how are you going?" and we say "how are you doing"? I remember the first time someone asked me "how are you going", I told them that I was planning to walk! Why do they say "Set down area" and we say "drop off zone". Why, I ask?
After much gnashing of teeth and cursing like a sailor, I finally got to the long term parking and ran into the airport. Let me tell you, it is hard to run with a heavy knapsack on your back, lugging a big suitcase. Dripping with sweat, I finally arrived to the ticket counter, only to discover a very long line. Why does this feel reminiscent of the last airport experience?
Luckily, I was flying Quantas, who rewards you for rocking up at the last minute by letting you skip the long line and go directly to the front, just like the high class flyer, but without the club status (I still wonder what goes on in those places). I got my boarding pass and skipped all the way to the gate....
stay tuned as the journey continues....
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