Getting there

My flight was twice as late as I was that morning, so I killed some time at Hudson's on my XO. Despite the limp coffee they served I was feeling strong in resolve, ready to take on the procession of queues and waits that were best overcome with the least resistance, the least attempt to fight them. The clouds through which my delayed flight descended had a silver lining: everyone else had checked in already, so there were no queues from concourse to gate lounge.

We took our seats on the flight and I soon fell into polite conversation with my neighbour, Adrian. The engines on the great metal bird whined and thundered and we were off. Adrian had a great interest in digital media, so between movies, naps and meals we shared stories variously about my planned educational computer games and his lecturing work at Deakin.

I also met Dana from the seat in front of me whilst congregating outside the restrooms like we weren't meant to according to the (in)security announcement. She was on her way to Seattle like me, to take up an internship with Amazon.com as a break from her computer science PhD. We supported each other through the tiresomeness at LAX whilst transferring to our connecting flight. Danna received her boarding pass in no time and came over to see what was taking me so long. The 'agent' serving me looked at her screen and said "It won't let me print it." whilst I quietly died inside. At the last minute, when I was about to leave on my errand to the QANTAS desk for my proof of ticket, another agent used her mystical powers of insight to look at the ticket number on my old boarding pass and show that it could be used to issue a new one. Needless and frustrating task averted; "Yes." I sighed mentally.

I had a Coney Dog at some grid iron-infatuated restaurant bar where another customer suggested I get some 'silverware' that turned out to be black plastic cutlery. I drifted in and out of lucidity on the two-hour flight. I walked placidly to luggage collection unaware of what had happened to Dana. I saw her again at the carousel and bid farewell as her luggage promptly appeared. Half an hour of watching the carousel and visiting the bathroom later, I started to inquire about my own. The third agent--or could they have been an 'officer'--to participate in my inquiry miraculously located my luggage, unceremoniously deposited three carousels away. I made my phone-call, and waited.