19-08-09 OR Stevie's (Andy's) last night in town
Why? Why is it so difficult to find a table for nine? Solution: join three tables together. (As a courtesy, tell the waitress. She will smile and light a candle for you [and, I suspect, curse you under her breath]). Ian, Shirleen, Tess, myself, Bob, Chloe, Stephen, Emma, Patrick. I don't know whether we consciously wanted to make things easier for the chef, but we all ordered the T-bone. I'm just a T-bone kind of guy. Love that T-bone. In fact, you might as well call me T-bone. Then where for dessert? Gelatissimo, of course. Is there anything as good as a free taste? I wonder how many cunning homeless have taken advantage of the free taste system?
How? How is it that Stevie can grow a beard? I suspect it's magic. Also, Chloe is almost certainly a Monroe-bot, and although he says he works at Half-Brick, I have a suspicious feeling that Stevie is still a burger boy at Red Rooster.
From where? To where? Queen Street Mall to Astor Metropole Hotel.
20-08-09 OR up in the air, I fly (zoom, zoom, a-zoom zoom zoom)
The hotel was dark and dodgy, like in a horror film; there were blood stains on the carpet and sofa. And something else wasn't quite right. Oh yeah, there were no windows. Despite this, I woke feeling refreshed. Breakfast: cereal and peanut butter on bread (traditional Last cuisine). It was a crisp Brisbane morning; the sunlight was breaking through the distant Eagle Street apartments. If the weather is anything like this in Europe then I am sure to have a pleasant time. However, the fact of the matter is that it will not be.
I love airports. To me, they exist outside of time and space. What do you think? Airports are still a novelty - I suspect this will change before too long.
In the terminal, Paddy and I sang songs from Aladdin. Dad, I think, is convinced that I'm going to leave my luggage unattened; Mum is convinced that I'm going to disappear through the gap in London. Tess and Bob also came to say goodbye. What is that Spice Girls song? When three become two? Tess was sad, and Bob, well, I knew he was crying on the inside.
My family, my friends: how do I love you? Let me count the way...
As I rode the escalator down, down, down to funky town, I turned and waved a final goodbye. And then I was on my own. A song appeared in my mind's ear: '...they did the Mash, they did the Monster Mash...' What would Freud say?
Customs. Done. Sorted. Next. Gate 78. My flight was delayed by an hour so I wandered about the place, looking for an internet kiosk. I have become far too reliant on the internet for connectivity. What ever happened to writing letters? I napped in the gate lounge; my flight was delayed even further. Boarding was very quick, though. The plane was, I think a Boeing 737, which means that it is 737 times better than a common or garden variety Boeing. The seats were wide and comfortable and I sat on the aisle. Also, the plane was only half full (or, if you're a pessimist, half empty).
Airline food. I'm proud/ashamed to announce/admit that it is disgusting/delicious.
Why? Why is it so difficult to find a table for nine? Solution: join three tables together. (As a courtesy, tell the waitress. She will smile and light a candle for you [and, I suspect, curse you under her breath]). Ian, Shirleen, Tess, myself, Bob, Chloe, Stephen, Emma, Patrick. I don't know whether we consciously wanted to make things easier for the chef, but we all ordered the T-bone. I'm just a T-bone kind of guy. Love that T-bone. In fact, you might as well call me T-bone. Then where for dessert? Gelatissimo, of course. Is there anything as good as a free taste? I wonder how many cunning homeless have taken advantage of the free taste system?
How? How is it that Stevie can grow a beard? I suspect it's magic. Also, Chloe is almost certainly a Monroe-bot, and although he says he works at Half-Brick, I have a suspicious feeling that Stevie is still a burger boy at Red Rooster.
From where? To where? Queen Street Mall to Astor Metropole Hotel.
20-08-09 OR up in the air, I fly (zoom, zoom, a-zoom zoom zoom)
The hotel was dark and dodgy, like in a horror film; there were blood stains on the carpet and sofa. And something else wasn't quite right. Oh yeah, there were no windows. Despite this, I woke feeling refreshed. Breakfast: cereal and peanut butter on bread (traditional Last cuisine). It was a crisp Brisbane morning; the sunlight was breaking through the distant Eagle Street apartments. If the weather is anything like this in Europe then I am sure to have a pleasant time. However, the fact of the matter is that it will not be.
I love airports. To me, they exist outside of time and space. What do you think? Airports are still a novelty - I suspect this will change before too long.
In the terminal, Paddy and I sang songs from Aladdin. Dad, I think, is convinced that I'm going to leave my luggage unattened; Mum is convinced that I'm going to disappear through the gap in London. Tess and Bob also came to say goodbye. What is that Spice Girls song? When three become two? Tess was sad, and Bob, well, I knew he was crying on the inside.
My family, my friends: how do I love you? Let me count the way...
As I rode the escalator down, down, down to funky town, I turned and waved a final goodbye. And then I was on my own. A song appeared in my mind's ear: '...they did the Mash, they did the Monster Mash...' What would Freud say?
Customs. Done. Sorted. Next. Gate 78. My flight was delayed by an hour so I wandered about the place, looking for an internet kiosk. I have become far too reliant on the internet for connectivity. What ever happened to writing letters? I napped in the gate lounge; my flight was delayed even further. Boarding was very quick, though. The plane was, I think a Boeing 737, which means that it is 737 times better than a common or garden variety Boeing. The seats were wide and comfortable and I sat on the aisle. Also, the plane was only half full (or, if you're a pessimist, half empty).
Airline food. I'm proud/ashamed to announce/admit that it is disgusting/delicious.
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