It's my birthday and I'll fly if I want to life, the universE, and everything
Again, not a new experience. I know that this lounge is enormous, covering the entire floor of the terminal and with direct boarding via lifts at the gates. The receptionist asks if I've been here before and tells me nothing has changed in 2 years; I'll be flying from gate A24, and everything I could possibly want is to my right.
It's a mad place. Inside the lounge, fer chrissakes, are luxury shops. The space is enormous and airy. And England were losing 2-1 at half time to Iceland. Fuck me, now I really need a drink.
I realise I am yet to photograph the actual seat. This is wide, even for me.
The hot towel disintegrates all over me again. And, check out the jimjams.
There's a handset to control the entertainment. This shouldn't surprise me, especially as it's explicitly mentioned on the welcome screen, but I had totally failed to notice it on the first leg. Also, I forgot that there's the camera attached to the tail. Why didn't I watch some of the outdoors-ness on the way to Dubai? Damn it.
Just to remind you all, we don't allow anyone to sleep on the floor.
The captain's announcements stop and service starts. There's a small meal at the start with a bigger meal on the way into Melbourne, numerous hours later. This is a 12-14hr trip depending on wind and stuff.
I opt for the dark beer - solely to learn the name of it, which is White Rabbit Dark Ale - and the chicken and cashew salad. Cheese afterwards? Oh go on then. Apparently they don't have any port and contrary to the last leg - and the menu - they don't even carry any, instead preferring Australian dessert wines. He pours me one, it tastes like port. That'll do.
Throughout all of this I've been watching Rabbit Proof Fence. God, what a fucked up place Australia used to be. After dinner I start on Police Story, but it turns out trying to follow subtitles and an action movie is kinda beyond me. Dario says to let him know when I want my bed made, but actually I just hit the present myself, pull a blanket over, and go to sleep for 5 hours.
When I wake up, there's 5 hours left of the flight. Excellent. I don't find sleeping to be well spent time in an environment like this, though I do begrudgingly accept both its inevitability and usefulness. I feel a bit dehydrated, but there's a bottle of water next to me and I glug it down. Then, to the bathroom where I clean my teeth and apply deodorant. Good as new.
Now that I'm awake, I give Police Story another go, and this time make it all the way to the end. I love Jackie Chan. Then, an episode of "72 Dangerous Places To Live" which is kinda interesting, if only for learning how to pronounce Kiribati... except the narrator also said "reprive" for "repreive", so dunno how much I trust them.
Oh, it's dinner time! Here comes champagne number 12, 13, and 14, accompanied by sourdough bread, a glorious pumpkin soup, and lovely vegetarian curry - cauliflower, potatoes, and stuff. And a diet coke, on second ask. Bah! Oh, and strawberry ice cream, why not.
Happy birthday from the crew of QF10!