Disclaimer: not a happy ending.
Sydney was probably the second most excited I've been this year (right behind coming to Aussie in the first place). Friday was almost perfect.
Started with my leaving 3.5 hours before my flight so I could get dinner in the city, avoiding that overpriced airport food.
Pumpkin cakes and pork xiao long bao. Such deliciousness. I haven't had xiao long bao in what feels like years - the last memory being when I was touring China with my daddy.
To eat: fill bowl with lots of chile sauce and a bit of black vinegar; dunk xiao long bao; bite into it and suck out the juices. Or at least that's how I do it. Amazing especially since it was starting to rain outside. [I can't deal with Melbourne's biopolar weather.]
Walked it then bussed it to the airport and got there 2 hours early, so of course I wandered in and out of all the shops, salivating over the baked goods and cursing the fact that coffees were $5. Finally caved 1 hour before my flight and bought two chocolate bombs.
Banana and caramel: banana custard, caramel
Madness bomb: apricot ... plum... liquor... concoction
Greatest.
I ate the banana and caramel bomb whilst waiting out the last hour (what I thought was the last hour of rain and cold for a weekend). But I couldn't just do that. Obviously I had to forgo looking over biochem notes to watch the season finale of Six Feet Under.
And here's where I begin beating myself up for being a dumbass.
I managed to miss the fact that my flight was changed from Gate 27 to Gate 25. I managed to miss the boarding time because I heard the bits and pieces of an announcement that included the words "Sydney" and "delay." And by the time I noticed the urgent "FINAL CALL" flashing on the screen for my flight, I was already fucked.
The dude at the counter seemed completely uninterested as he was telling me the flight was just leaving. And there it went; I watched the thing take off as I went into a bout of alternately yelling "fuck" and laughing. I'm pretty sure he may have thought I was crazy. I'm pretty sure he would've been less uninterested if I was more attractive. Damn my life. But that's beside the point.
Well, I managed to get to Sydney. And it's fucking amazing here.
...
but not before I had to shell out $100 for a rebooking my flight,
darting through busy airport traffic to get to the Holiday Inn (just to find out it was $150 a night),
having a breakdown in the corner as I desperately called my uncle to drive an hour to pick me up (so so so grateful for finding family here),
wasting $5 for a cab to take me across the street (because I had no idea how to walk there) to the supposedly cheaper hotel which ended up being $114 a night,
sitting out in the windy cold as I waited for my uncle to pick me up after deciding I'd just go back to my apartment,
ranting to Bernard who laughed at me the entire time,
searching for the RA because I was locked out since my key was with my working roommate whose key refuses to function properly,
sleeping for 3 hours before I dropped $50 for a taxi back to the airport at 5am,
fuming in the morning whilst waiting because they personally called passengers who had not boarded other flights about three times (why did I not hear my name? or they didn't call it..).
I don't know whether this goes under the why-I-hate-airports list or the why-I-am-a-moron list. Both. I guess it goes under both.
This is what happens when I get too excited, thinking things are going to well. I apparently always need to be a little bit paranoid if I'm going to do shit right aka this is the first time I didn't constantly check the time, the gate, and the flight number every three minutes.
Lie of the year
"[Flights to Sydney from Melbourne] are like buses; they leave like every 10 mins."
Truth: last flight with Jetstar/Qantas is apparently 8:20 pm. Because any flight after that would just be unheard of. Who leaves their homes after 9pm anyways, right?
Oh minus the fact that people party until 7 in the morning here.
Well here's to hoping I can call this the worst night of Australia. Cheers.
I managed to miss the fact that my flight was changed from Gate 27 to Gate 25. I managed to miss the boarding time because I heard the bits and pieces of an announcement that included the words "Sydney" and "delay." And by the time I noticed the urgent "FINAL CALL" flashing on the screen for my flight, I was already fucked.
The dude at the counter seemed completely uninterested as he was telling me the flight was just leaving. And there it went; I watched the thing take off as I went into a bout of alternately yelling "fuck" and laughing. I'm pretty sure he may have thought I was crazy. I'm pretty sure he would've been less uninterested if I was more attractive. Damn my life. But that's beside the point.
Well, I managed to get to Sydney. And it's fucking amazing here.
...
but not before I had to shell out $100 for a rebooking my flight,
darting through busy airport traffic to get to the Holiday Inn (just to find out it was $150 a night),
having a breakdown in the corner as I desperately called my uncle to drive an hour to pick me up (so so so grateful for finding family here),
wasting $5 for a cab to take me across the street (because I had no idea how to walk there) to the supposedly cheaper hotel which ended up being $114 a night,
sitting out in the windy cold as I waited for my uncle to pick me up after deciding I'd just go back to my apartment,
ranting to Bernard who laughed at me the entire time,
searching for the RA because I was locked out since my key was with my working roommate whose key refuses to function properly,
sleeping for 3 hours before I dropped $50 for a taxi back to the airport at 5am,
fuming in the morning whilst waiting because they personally called passengers who had not boarded other flights about three times (why did I not hear my name? or they didn't call it..).
I don't know whether this goes under the why-I-hate-airports list or the why-I-am-a-moron list. Both. I guess it goes under both.
This is what happens when I get too excited, thinking things are going to well. I apparently always need to be a little bit paranoid if I'm going to do shit right aka this is the first time I didn't constantly check the time, the gate, and the flight number every three minutes.
Lie of the year
"[Flights to Sydney from Melbourne] are like buses; they leave like every 10 mins."
Truth: last flight with Jetstar/Qantas is apparently 8:20 pm. Because any flight after that would just be unheard of. Who leaves their homes after 9pm anyways, right?
Oh minus the fact that people party until 7 in the morning here.
Well here's to hoping I can call this the worst night of Australia. Cheers.
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