arrivals
International airport arrivals lounges are the shit. I went early this morning to the airport to pick up sunnytea, an endeavour which went sadly awry due to the fact that we both arrived at the airport at the same time and then circulated around within 20 meters of each other for an hour before departing for our flat seperately.
This could be due to the fact that I was positioned at the rail of gates A and B and suneeti had cunningly entered via gates C and D. It could also have been that I was not looking over at the cafe, where if I was a betting man I would have positioned myself immediately upon arriving at the terminal knowing that sooner or later my flatty would drag her travel weary bones up in search of strong caffeinated release. But I suspect that the real culprit was the euphoric wash of emotions that poured through the gates in front of me as people were reunited and then attempt to excitedly disgourge everything in their lives to each other as though they strongly suspected there might only be the next 30 seconds in which to do so.
I am not a morning person. Many people can attest to this. Some people have actually attempted to link my DNA to that of lizards as behaviourally I can have much in common with them during the early hours of morn. But I like to think that powerful spells of inactivity and hissing at people attempting to rouse me only add to my irresistable rougish charm. However, standing there watching a constant stream of wrung out suitcase dragging zombies transform into sqeee!ing blubbering mental cases, I found the cockles of my reptilian heart warming without the familiar firmness of sundrenched stone. I highly recommend this if you are passing by the international arrivals lounge and have a few minutes to kill, it's seriously one of the happiest places on earth.
Giddy with repeated happiness hits it was only with slight dismay that I received the news via SMS that Suneeti had waited around for a while before leaving for home in a cab. On the way home I was almost run into a concrete road divide by a rental packed with newly arrived zombies - they just stared slackjawed and unmoved when I locked it up and gave my horn a working it has never experienced in a bid to avoid certain bent vehicle disaster. But even this washed away moments later as I remembered what I was doing. Making record time home I got to do some squeeing of my own which was awesome. AND I got a ceremonial dagger for chrissy... huzzah! (so much the better for freaking out seventh day adventists that happen by to save my soul... but more, perhaps, about that some other time.)
But now like some emotional junkie I'm faced with the come down. At cubefarmville, population 1 spazillion. Something tells me that Loud Dumb Weekend Story Guy is in deep shit today.
Oh hey peeps: tomorrow night (i.e. tuesday) bungalow 8 in darling harbour has foolishly decided to have an all you can eat mussel night. All mussels are cooked ala Epoque style which is to say Delicious. So light lunches for all you local cats and I'll see you there at 6:30.
This could be due to the fact that I was positioned at the rail of gates A and B and suneeti had cunningly entered via gates C and D. It could also have been that I was not looking over at the cafe, where if I was a betting man I would have positioned myself immediately upon arriving at the terminal knowing that sooner or later my flatty would drag her travel weary bones up in search of strong caffeinated release. But I suspect that the real culprit was the euphoric wash of emotions that poured through the gates in front of me as people were reunited and then attempt to excitedly disgourge everything in their lives to each other as though they strongly suspected there might only be the next 30 seconds in which to do so.
I am not a morning person. Many people can attest to this. Some people have actually attempted to link my DNA to that of lizards as behaviourally I can have much in common with them during the early hours of morn. But I like to think that powerful spells of inactivity and hissing at people attempting to rouse me only add to my irresistable rougish charm. However, standing there watching a constant stream of wrung out suitcase dragging zombies transform into sqeee!ing blubbering mental cases, I found the cockles of my reptilian heart warming without the familiar firmness of sundrenched stone. I highly recommend this if you are passing by the international arrivals lounge and have a few minutes to kill, it's seriously one of the happiest places on earth.
Giddy with repeated happiness hits it was only with slight dismay that I received the news via SMS that Suneeti had waited around for a while before leaving for home in a cab. On the way home I was almost run into a concrete road divide by a rental packed with newly arrived zombies - they just stared slackjawed and unmoved when I locked it up and gave my horn a working it has never experienced in a bid to avoid certain bent vehicle disaster. But even this washed away moments later as I remembered what I was doing. Making record time home I got to do some squeeing of my own which was awesome. AND I got a ceremonial dagger for chrissy... huzzah! (so much the better for freaking out seventh day adventists that happen by to save my soul... but more, perhaps, about that some other time.)
But now like some emotional junkie I'm faced with the come down. At cubefarmville, population 1 spazillion. Something tells me that Loud Dumb Weekend Story Guy is in deep shit today.
Oh hey peeps: tomorrow night (i.e. tuesday) bungalow 8 in darling harbour has foolishly decided to have an all you can eat mussel night. All mussels are cooked ala Epoque style which is to say Delicious. So light lunches for all you local cats and I'll see you there at 6:30.