Musing on Traveling while Traveling
(aka Traveling's the fun.)
During my flight to Pittsburgh, I thanked God that I didn’t drink too much the night before and that I successfully packed my carry-on bag before I went out drinking.
Unlike the time I flew to Australia…
Hilary took me out for drinks to wish me a bon voyage as well as to thank me for delivering a baby gift to her kin, Dee, David and Clark, in Surrey Hills. After a wonderful happy hour at bump and beer and wings at Moriarty’s, I returned home in a buzz.
My laundry was done, and I compared the pile of clean clothes with the check list I made in the weeks before. I always whip up a check list for my trips. For long trips, I plan on having at least 3 more pairs of underwear than days I’m gone. There were still t-shirts, shorts and the fun daily things to pack only after they were washed.
Earlier in the week, I prepared some of the specialty items for the suitcase. I had a nice pair of dress shoes, pants and shirt all stowed away. My bathing suit was neatly packed and the package of new white socks was in my bag. Knowing that I would sleep as late as possible on Thursday morning, I took an item of clothing that matched what I needed from the list, and threw on top of the nicely packed clothes. I checked the item off. I continued until I had checked off all the items on my list and topped it off with more pairs of socks and underwear. At last, I placed the chocolate chip cookies that David’s mom baked for her son. I closed the suitcase, sloughed off my clothes and passed out.
The next day at work went quickly; I had back-to-back meetings until 4:00pm. Leaving then would give me the 90 minutes I would have needed at the airport. I took the train to the airport and called Rosie as I began my trek. I landed in LAX and called Denise and Brigid, my California friends, during that layover after transfering from a secured area of the airport only to have to re-enter to get from my United flight to the Air New Zealand flight. I board. We fly the long 13 hours to En Zed, and land in Auckland at 5:30am local time which ended up being 3:30pm Philadelphia time. I call Phil and she’s just as tripped out as I am that we’re talking to each other from the opposite ends of the earth. After a 90 minute lay over, I’m on the last leg to Sydney.
Flying over Sydney was a dream. It was magical: suspended in air over the Harbour. The cerulean water reflected the white light of the sun. It shimmered like diamond flakes on rippled lapis lazuli. Outside of the window was the Harbour Bridge, as a coat hanger on the two banks, and the iconic Opera House, looking like minimalist clam shells opened and piled together.
I go through Customs and declare the cookies. I show the agent the cookies and she replies “ah, bikkies... these are fine.” I exit into the arrivals hall, and David is waiting for me. He hands me a 7-day pass for the Sydney CityRail system and he whisks me away to North Ride. After a change of train in Central Station, which strongly resembled Waterloo Station in London, and a quick bus ride from Epping, we made our final destination. I crashed on the bed, as I mentioned that the cookies were in my bag. I encourage him to open the suitcase.
With the Tupperware of his mom’s chocolate chip cookies in hand, David asks “Did Hilary take you out for drinks before you packed?”
“How could you tell?”
During my flight to Pittsburgh, I thanked God that I didn’t drink too much the night before and that I successfully packed my carry-on bag before I went out drinking.
Unlike the time I flew to Australia…
Hilary took me out for drinks to wish me a bon voyage as well as to thank me for delivering a baby gift to her kin, Dee, David and Clark, in Surrey Hills. After a wonderful happy hour at bump and beer and wings at Moriarty’s, I returned home in a buzz.
My laundry was done, and I compared the pile of clean clothes with the check list I made in the weeks before. I always whip up a check list for my trips. For long trips, I plan on having at least 3 more pairs of underwear than days I’m gone. There were still t-shirts, shorts and the fun daily things to pack only after they were washed.
Earlier in the week, I prepared some of the specialty items for the suitcase. I had a nice pair of dress shoes, pants and shirt all stowed away. My bathing suit was neatly packed and the package of new white socks was in my bag. Knowing that I would sleep as late as possible on Thursday morning, I took an item of clothing that matched what I needed from the list, and threw on top of the nicely packed clothes. I checked the item off. I continued until I had checked off all the items on my list and topped it off with more pairs of socks and underwear. At last, I placed the chocolate chip cookies that David’s mom baked for her son. I closed the suitcase, sloughed off my clothes and passed out.
The next day at work went quickly; I had back-to-back meetings until 4:00pm. Leaving then would give me the 90 minutes I would have needed at the airport. I took the train to the airport and called Rosie as I began my trek. I landed in LAX and called Denise and Brigid, my California friends, during that layover after transfering from a secured area of the airport only to have to re-enter to get from my United flight to the Air New Zealand flight. I board. We fly the long 13 hours to En Zed, and land in Auckland at 5:30am local time which ended up being 3:30pm Philadelphia time. I call Phil and she’s just as tripped out as I am that we’re talking to each other from the opposite ends of the earth. After a 90 minute lay over, I’m on the last leg to Sydney.
Flying over Sydney was a dream. It was magical: suspended in air over the Harbour. The cerulean water reflected the white light of the sun. It shimmered like diamond flakes on rippled lapis lazuli. Outside of the window was the Harbour Bridge, as a coat hanger on the two banks, and the iconic Opera House, looking like minimalist clam shells opened and piled together.
I go through Customs and declare the cookies. I show the agent the cookies and she replies “ah, bikkies... these are fine.” I exit into the arrivals hall, and David is waiting for me. He hands me a 7-day pass for the Sydney CityRail system and he whisks me away to North Ride. After a change of train in Central Station, which strongly resembled Waterloo Station in London, and a quick bus ride from Epping, we made our final destination. I crashed on the bed, as I mentioned that the cookies were in my bag. I encourage him to open the suitcase.
With the Tupperware of his mom’s chocolate chip cookies in hand, David asks “Did Hilary take you out for drinks before you packed?”
“How could you tell?”
Comments