Over the Pacific and the Arrival

We left Frisco for the interminable flight. It seems designed to get business people into Sydney sufficiently intact to do business during the day into Sydney sufficiently intact to do business on arrival. One takes off around 22:45. An hour or so into the flight one is served dinner and the movies start. The av system on the 747 in economy sucks, though the one in business and first class was much the same as on the Air Canada flight from Calgary to Frisco. Unfortunately the first movie showing was Mamma Mia which I had just seen. I was in a window seat and the aisle seat in the bank of three was occupied by an elderly lady, that is, one more or less my age, who was friendly and quite familiar with the flight.

For dinner one could choose meat loaf or a pasta dish. I chose the meat loaf. It was fortunate that I had been told it was meat loaf as I otherwise would not have know. Even so what the meat was will remain the secret of the caterer. Perhaps that is as it should be. After a while the lights are turned off and one is meant to sleep. I think I did for four or five hours. Then I woke up, thinking we must be well along which of course we were, but still much much time remaining. A snack consisting of a bun laden with very little turkey and cheddar was served. What was memorable was its exceeding dryness. The bun was dry and the sandwich was devoid of condiments and such slightly moist items as lettuce and tomato. I suppose this way the sandwiches have a very long life span and can be carried on flight after flight until some new and foolish person like me eats one. My seat mate offered me hers as well and I foolishly ate it. I think I vaguely thought this was breakfast though of course it was just a snack. For the next hours I slept on and off with no sense for how much on and how much off. An hour and a half outside of Sydney breakfast came along. The choice was an omelette or pancakes. My seatmate cautioned me to avoid the pancakes- they were truly deadly she said. So I had the omelette. It was a sort of sausage shaped yellow tube stuffed with something runny and whitish. The yellow tube was indeed vaguely tasted like something that had at one time contacted a hen. The whitish stuff was I suppose some soft cheese though which cheese one could tell. A single sausage constituted the meat portion. There were a couple of other things which I dutifully ate but quickly forgot. My stomach of course did not forget as they remained in it for hours.

Finally the landing. Customs and immigration were quick once I got my luggage. I realized my dreadful mistake while waiting for the luggage. I had one not very big black-grey thing with wheels. So did around 50 other people on the flight. I had put no identifying ribbon patch or anything else on it. After taking 10 or so these off the belt, looking at them and then putting them back on I finally found mine.

I was given a quick exit pass so went out ah exit with no inspection. I looked around and no Stockmans. So I waited circling around the two terminal doors going in and out from time to time. Eventually I sat just outside in the smoking area. (I had planned to have my last cigarette in Frisco and pitch the remained of the back but this plan had not worked so I still had them). I was in a little group of people all of whom felt they had been deserted. After 40 minutes or so I spotted Les. It turned out he and the kids had been there most of the time. He said he did not remember the customs exit I had come out and though we had circled a bit we had just not seen each other.

All was then well and I was then off to Claros Close.