The first 31 ... er 37 hours

Sitting on the bus from Portland to Boston, I realized I simply would not be able to make the 31 hour trip to Sydney readable. This wasn’t self-deprecation so much as a recognition that sitting next to the same person in small metal tubes traveling at high velocities for long periods of time is brutal no matter who you are. Even the Dali Llama would end up flogging Jerry Seinfeld with his sandals for one too many “observations.”

Our trip started out well enough. National Treasure (ironically named) was shown on the bus and I accidentally discovered that if you watch the movie without sound a) Nicholas Cage doesn’t look like a bad actor, b) it is mildly interesting to watch the actors try to solve inscrutable puzzles like opening a secret desk, and c) you can pretend that it was written by the Coen brothers. Listening to even 15 seconds of dialogue completely ruins these perceptions.

Ticketing and security took about 20 minutes. Then the problems started – 3 hour delay in Boston (2 hours on the tarmac) making us an hour late for our flight to Sydney (which luckily was hours late as well – how many times have you been able to say that!). Unfortunately, mechanical problems on the plane to Sydney caused a 3 hour delay (if you own Qantas stock – SELL). Finally seated on our flight, we were fully prepared to “enjoy” our 14 hour flight, complimentary alcoholic beverage of our choice, and Tylenol PM.

A few other things useful to know; Tylenol PM is not the equivalent of Ambien; vegetarian meals are served first; Fargo is good even after 35 hours of traveling; you should never point out to the person sitting next to you that you don’t have 2 hours left ... you have 8; if you watch Cloverfield during extreme turbulence you can make out what the actors are doing, and middle seats should be reserved for convicts of the most horrible crimes and airline execs.

We landed in Sydney and ran to the bathroom to see if the drain drains backward. Then we went to Wagamama.