The Girls in Orange

AM

Least: by about 9:20am, I was immersed in the teeming culture of Coolangatta Airport. The length and density of the queue suggested that somewhere in the stinking bowels of that half-finished terminal chaos ruled. Worse, were the shifty blonde Jetstar staff. One of them quietly failed to tell us that Rosie and I weren't sitting together, then upon complaining, we saw them making snide remarks via their 'walkie-talkies'. The orange girl at the information desk fed us a pile of turds until we got what we wanted.

Most: Close to midday, I was closing in on the end of And the Ass Saw the Angel. For some yet to be determined reason (and despite my initial complaints) the book was almost a page turner. The story of the inbred mute living in absolute squalor and at war with the townsfolk needed Nick's outrageous use of language to give it legs. While jetting up the east coast, I could almost smell the slime and filth dripping from me. Worth a read if you've time on your hands and you own a good dictionary.

PM

Least: By about 1:00pm, it was blindingly clear that being in the middle isle of an Airbus A330 was incredibly uninteresting to the point of being painful. I began to hate the people in front of me, who'd paid for their reclining leisure with my cramps. I began to think poorly of the guy sitting next to me - how long was he going to sleep? Being in row 45, I could experience every visitation to the three toilets just metres from my tiny perch. The food was appalling.

Most: Perhaps around 2:00pm, the flightdeck told me that to our left was a rare view of Port Moresby and a chain of PNG's islands. My some miracle, it coincided with a rare walk down the isle to the rear toilet. Through a porthole in an emergency exit, I could clearly see the city and the white-fringed islands trailing into the distance. I should've snapped a photo - it was the last thing I saw outside until Kansai.

The Secret

AM

Least: By 12:01am I had been at 39000 feet for three hours on my secret voyage to Australia. Between 12:01am and 6:30am, I sat awake, having already watched a bowdlerised version of Slumdog Millionaire and exhausted the 'entertainment' package. The view of thick typhoony cloud out the window, did little to distract me from the constant sneezing, coughing and snoring of hundreds of other 'pax', mostly Japanese. One child appeared to have a nervous cough, another flyer sneezed at a rate of 6 per-minute, while a guy across from me gurgled through his blocked nose like a perculator. It seemed impossible that so many people could be so annoying for so long. The airline food-based farting started at about 2:00am. Two out of the four toilets were functioning.

Most: At about 3:30am, our ship jetted over the Bismarck Sea and Papua New Guinea. By this time a fullish moon had made an appearance and the dead ocean finally coughed up a few lights. A few pinpricks at sea I imagined to be small islands or oil rigs and a cluster on the northern coast of PNG may have been Madang, Sio or old Finschaffen, and another may have been a giant mining operation. Either way, it was interesting to imagine the life that was spending the night down on the ground. Mostly, they were probably sleeping in darkened villages, yet to get a scrap from the minerals being taken from them by the megaton.

PM

Least: As I arrived in Melbourne at about 12:15pm to the news of a 2:00pm check-in I looked with disinterest at the same hipster uniformity that had annoyed me six months ago. In everyone's desperate quest for 'cool' people seem to be as conservative as ever - black on grey on black*. It's easier to look like a young B-Dylan when it's 11 degrees. Beards seem to be on the decline however. (*note me wearing black on grey above)

Most: As we were welcomed to the Windsor by a man in a top hat sometime after 2:15pm, Rosie and I glee'd over our six year anniversary and the success to date of our plan for a surprise visit to Melbourne. Since the 22nd of April we have been quietly being quiet about our holiday plans. An internet blackout and light misinformation campaign in July appears to have worked to cloak our intentions to crash my Mum and Sister's birthday meal in Northcote. Rosie's sister, Virginia literally collapsed in a heap at the sight of Rosie at her door on Tuesday. Tomorrow's big entry will be very interesting indeed - provided our intelligence on the party's time and location is accurate.

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Food Note:

Lowlight: The Jetstar breakfast choice number 1 was an egg and cheese roll on over-herbed bread. The soggy clot was nothing other than repulsive.

Highlight: By about 7:00pm I was delighting in the Deep-Fried Pork-Belly with Red Curry at Cookie in Swanston Street. The costly German Riesling was incredible.