The Sydney trip: With 62 hours away from home, 26 of those spent In The Air–do the math, ouch!–being able to sleep on the airplane is necessary for survival. In the cockpit there is a sound-proof (more or less) bunkroom with bunk beds, pillows, sheets, blankets. Often you’ll see the pilots dressed in jammies as they sneak out to the lavs during their rest break. The 14 hours flight to Sydney was uneventful, a little rough in patches as all flights over the equator’s intertropical convergence zone are bound to be (where the northern hemisphere air collides with the southern and makes thunderstorms and, well, bumpies).
When you’re trying to sleep, those “bumpies” feel like someone grabbing your mattress and shaking it. Level one is your miniature poodle jumping up in bed with you, level 2 your German Shepherd, 3 your spouse, 4, your 400 lb wrestler spouse, and 5…that’s an asteroid that crashes through your bedroom ceiling and hits the mattress. Repeatedly. The worst we got on the trip to Sydney was 2.5.
Sydney was glorious–it was summer time, something this kid sorely needed after all this No Cal rain. I took the ferry over to Manley Beach and ate lunch al fresco in my favorite restaurant The Bower. It’s right on the beach–plastic tables and chairs, delicious food and a nice wine list. I ordered the grilled barramundi with pumpkin gnocchi, and wine. Something about fresh seafood and a chilled Aussie chardonnay…ahhh. Afterward, I picked up chocolate-covered ginger for a good friend (Tim Tams? Nah, THIS is the Aussie treat!) And also several bags of the local soft black licorice from Darrell Lea’s, another can’t-get-nowhere-else specialty, and was asleep by 6 pm. I woke up at 2 to write (that deadline is breathing fire down my neck) then by lunchtime it was time to fly home. And then I met Jim.
Jim, Jim, Jim. He kept me up all night. He was a category 3 cyclone lurking out in the South Pacific and sprawled across our flightpath like a fat dude in a recliner in front of the TV, holding a can of beer in one hand and a remote in the other. United dispatch warned us, but there was no other path we could take home, so we had to fly through the bands of weather associated with…Jim. When we asked for an update during the flight, they wrote back that “Jim is starting to fall apart.” Worried, I typed back: “Maybe he should seek counseling.” I received, of course, no reply.
Our weather radar shows us the individual cells, so we can keep out of the bad stuff, but it’s always bumpy nearby. We were due to swing by Jim during my hour rest break. (of course). Out of that 4.5 hours, I’d say it was level 2 to 4 bumpies for 4.499 hours. Needless to say, by the time I got home, I’d been up 30 hours. I’d like to say I’m recovering peacefully at home, but the way my schedule fell this month, I am off to Hong kong tomorrow. But it’s going to be in the high 60s, low 70s and sunny–a small window during the year when Hong kong is actually gorgeous! Maybe I’ll hike up Victoria Peak. Or…maybe I’ll just sleep alone. (IOW without Jim.)
