Stress Fractures

I think the stress finally starts to dissipate after we shoot past Geraldton and continue up the coast. The day hadn’t started well; a crunch and a squeal as someone backed into my driver’s side door. Your charming accent not quite excusing you from muttered misgivings and photos of the damage for the insurance people. “We mustae been lookin’ the wrong way. Dinnae want to back into a person walkin by, God help.” Apparently cars don’t figure quite so high on the big man’s priority list.

I assumed that getting on the plane would do it, but as I sat waiting for the yellow-coated engineer to fix the back door of the plane that wouldn’t quite shut, I realised I was gripping the armrest a little too tightly. “Can I grab another of those little bottles, ta. Cheers.”

Earlier, I had blagged an invite to the Qantas club and once we hit Changi, I wandered across, feeling like an impostor amidst the suits and handmade shoes. I stood under the shower for half an hour listening to elevator music and boarding calls before I felt human enough to emerge, ready for the next leg.

Posted in Travel on Sunday January 20, 2008.