Around the World in 150 Days, Day 3, 24 going on 14
April 10th, Melbourne Australia: I arrive at the airport over two hours early for a domestic flight on a Friday afternoon. The place is practically abandoned, and although I'm not flying business until I get to Sydney I decide to queue up in the 'Business/Qantas Club' line because the lady behind the desk looks bored and clearly won't turn me away just because my connecting flight is economy.
Most people view airports and flying as a huge hassle. As a result they often bring attitude with them to every encounter they have at the airport, particularly with staff. I see things differently; the people who work at the airport have the ability to make your life either totally miserable or considerably more comfortable. They take attitude from rushed dickheads all day, and even those who are nice are normally transparently attempting to get something. To my knowledge there's no ultimate trick to getting comps or upgrades at the airport, but if you're polite, engaging, and build some rapport with the person helping you they just might go out of their way to set you up. It's with this mentality that I approach the business class desk
"Hi, I'm not traveling on business until I get to Sydney but is it alright if I just go ahead and check in here?"
"Oh sure sir, that's no problem. Can I have your ID?"
"Of course...so I'm quite a bit early for my flight today, do you have any book recommendations for me?"
"What's that?"
"Well the flight isn't until 3:30 so I'll be needing a book to kill the time. Any recommendations for me?"
"Hmm let me think...have you read Angels and Demons?"
"Oh yes, read it and loved it. What'd you think?" (This part is important, it's one thing to just ramble on about shit when talking to people who can help you, but they won't feel invested in the interaction until you give them a reason to be.)
"Oh I haven't read it yet but I'm hoping to, people tell me good things."
"Did you enjoy the Da Vinci Code?"
"Oh yes quite a bit."
"Ah then you'll love Angels and Demons. I think it was probably better."
"Yea, that's what I keep hearing. Have you seen the movie?"
"Well no it's not out yet. I think it's one of those big summer release type things in the States."
"Oh right, like the new X-men movie. Do you like that series?"
"Are you kidding? I love em. They definitely picked the right character to continue the series with, Wolverine is so cool."
"I know! He's so..."
"Angry" I interject with a smile.
"Yes, that's right. One sec here I just need to call about your seat on the Honolulu flight."
She gets on the phone for a while and has difficulty getting through to people. She's stuck on hold for a while so we continue talking about books and I mention that numerous people have recommended 'The Wolf on Wallstreet' to me, and that they're turning it into a movie with Leonardo DiCaprio. She's definitely a Leo fan. Eventually she gets through to someone and then turns the computer my way and asks which seat I'd like. She tells me which one I should take that will get me the most room, which is a lone seat along the window.
"Ah perfect then, plenty of room to stretch out and I won't bother anyone with my smell."
After the seat is sorted she calls up to the Qantas Club lounge for me and lets them know that despite my not being on business class here in Melbourne that I will be in Sydney and therefore they should let me in when I head up there. She directs me how to get there then I thank her for everything and remind her to enjoy 'Angels and Demons'. I walk over to the airport 'Subway' where I grab a sandwich, buy two books at the neighboring book store, then head up to the Qantas Club lounge where I enter without issue and find a nice couch to whip out my laptop and start writing on.
The flight to Sydney is uneventful and arrives slightly early. The transition to the international terminal is easy and when I get there I ask around about the best place to eat. There are only a few options available and they all appear to suck, but then I remember that the lounge upstairs probably has food. When I arrive not only am I happy to find that I'm correct, but there's also free booze as far as the eye can see. I'm laying off the beer and hard stuff these days for the diet, so I grab the bottles of red wine and go to town while eating some kind of goulash. It tastes better than the name gives it credit for. I aimlessly browse the internet between bursts of typing, and find that the girl I was seeing has indeed deleted me from facebook like she said she would last night. Great, now my friends list is an even bigger sausage fest.
By the time I'm done writing I'm half drunk and eying the clock. I decide not to risk it this time and head off to my gate 25 minutes early. The flight is already boarding when I get there and I grab a seat and wait for the line to dissipate while I read. When I board I finally look at my ticket and realize I'm on the window seat of the first row. It's my first time in business class for an international flight, and I'm thrilled to find the seat is enormous and stretches out considerably.
I start chatting with the guy in the seat next to me. His name is John, and he works in the furniture business. He tells me he's going to Hawaii alone just to kill a few days and get some sun, which is pretty damn balla for a guy who looks to be in his late twenties. He asks what I do for a living which results in a half hour discussion on how exactly one plays poker for a living and what I did to get myself to that point. He explains all the perks to business class to me and elaborates on how to adjust my seat, which according to the diagram on my arm rest appears to be incredibly complex.
At some point one of the attendants comes by and offers us pajamas. At first I decline because I don't really wear pajamas, but then I remember it's either that or sleep in my suit so I reconsider and get changed in the bathroom. Just trying to change clothes in the bathroom makes me wonder about the logistical nightmare that attempting to have sex in there would be.
Before I settle in to sleep I restart the conversation with John. He tells me he's 24 and guesses my age to be 21, and is rather surprised to find out we're the same. John laments that at such a young age both his knees and back are fucked while his hair is simultaneously thinning and graying. I'd have believed him in an instant if he told me he was 30. Fortunately, I show nearly no signs of age, unless perhaps I haven't shaven in days. My hair seems to have maintained all its color and thickness and at times I still even have slight acne break outs. A few weeks ago in a bar some girl told me thought I could pass for 17 and a week after that a guy at a downtown slots casino wouldn't let me enter despite presenting my Wisconsin ID. The legal age of entrance is 18. I was not able to talk my way past that one.
Mostly we discuss how 24 is a strange age, a transitional age. Up until a couple years ago your life was on a pretty set course for most people, and you likely had a large group of friends you'd been familiar with for years. After school people tend to break off and start doing their own things, getting into careers but often beginning to question if the direction they've taken is the correct one. I imagine by 30 most people likely have a pretty solid idea of what they'll be doing with their life or career, but maybe not. Hell, I even have a few friends who are intentional parents at this stage. When the fuck did that start happening? If I had a kid right now I'd wind up playing his Xbox more than he did. I'm wearing pajamas and play a card game for a living.
Eventually our conversation dies down and I lay back into my seat in my pajamas and slip the blindfold over my face. The plane is fairly quiet near the front. I fall asleep without too much trouble.