The flight from SFO to LAX was pretty uneventful. I was over my cold, then back under the weather again. Similar to how the past 2 weeks have been. We had time to eat dinner, so we ate at Wolfgang Puck's, which was pretty good (from what I could taste), but overpriced. We were late leaving (an flight, late, what?), but I had plenty of reading material (A Short History of Nearly Everything, again, thanks Jordan) so I was fine. I even got lucky, getting an aisle seat and having an empty friendship seat. My brother was not so lucky, the guy sitting next to him was about my size, bald and covered in tattoos (including a tear drop tattoo). We were joking about this later and my mom told him that he got the "fuzzy end of the lollipop," to which Dan replied, (in a rare moment of quick thinking) "I didn't get the fuzzy end, I got the shiv end." When I tried to get to sleep, I realized that my seat wasn't nearly as awesome as previously though (44C). Flight attendants are really chatty and people love to run into the first seat following an open space. We eventually got to Sydney's Kingsford (not charcoal) International.
Normally, I don't think much of airport layout or security, but I had to take notice at these. Kingsford is like some cross between a mall and an airport. We had to walk about 1/4 mile through a duty free shop before reaching customs (and later, when we were leaving, we had to walk about 1/2 a mile past shops that rivaled the Stanford Mall in opulence to reach our gate). When we got to customs a fellow passenger warned us that using a cell phone or camera before we left the baggage claim would likely get us thrown in jail. Needless to say, Australia means serious business, they even had a real-life bomb sniffing dog (who was really cute, but I refrained from taking a picture, as per the previously mentioned jail threat). The only humor I found in the whole exchange was when the Quarantine agent (different than Customs apparently) asked us if we had "microwave popcorn." He was not as entertained as I was, but the rest of my family loved it.
We visited assorted places in Sydney that were near the Harbor Bridge including Circular Quay (Quay = Key, why? I don't know), the Sydney and Luna Park (a watered-down version of the Boardwalk with a sign that inspires nightmares). The weather was absolutely wonderful, no a cloud in the sky. 75 and sunny, what a great way to spend December. While wandering about North Sydney trying to find the Counter (oh yeah, like the one on California), we got lost. We gave up and walked back to a Thai restaurant I pointed out because I liked the sign (eh, I'm a design nerd) and the food was absolutely great, but the restaurant was tiny, the dining room was smaller than a Lag mini-double. It's a good thing they do take out, otherwise I don't think they'd be able to make money. Here's a true testament to the goodness of this restaurant: even Dan liked it; and he doesn't like anything. I gotta say, Thai is getting up there with Greek on my favorite foods I didn't realize were my favorite foods list.
When we returned to the Sydney airport to check-in for our flight to Christchurch, we found out that there was an issue with our visa (not our VISA card as my dad initially thought), that Virgin Blue couldn't find it. After a fairly tense half hour of waiting, everything got straightened out and I learned that visas are a lot less impressive than I thought (we just bought one for 20 bucks and didn't even get a hard copy of it, the airline took care of everything). The ticketing agent had to ask us a few questions, during which, this little gem occurred:
Agent: "Daniel, what's your birthdate?"
Dan: [gives his birthday]
Agent: "Daniel, are you a male?"
Dad: "Some of the time"
Everyone: Laughter
Dan and I were two of the last people to board the plane (his fault). While walking down the single aisle of the plane, I look first at my seat, which is next to a tall, lanky guy (probably 6' 9", 220 lbs), and then Dan's, next to a petite girl (maybe 5' 6", 110 lbs). Being the gentleman I am (and not wanting to trigger a tantrum on full flight), take the seat next to My Giant. I decide to size up my rowmates and notice that between the two of them they have half a dozen ear piercings and are both my size or taller. And we fit together fine in a row (probably the strangest thing of the entire trip so far). After a fairly unevenful plane ride, we reach Christchurch and start to deplane. As we walk down the jetway, my dad (also a tall guy) points out the sheer height of the two guys sitting next to me, moments before they start to hold hands. This is met with some surprise, but I figure they are the world's tallest gay couple, or at least New Zealand's.
Now, pictures:
A beautiful day in Sydney, as evidenced by the Sydney Opera House.
The entrance to Luna Park. I swear this thing will give some kids nightmares.
Food at Stir Crazy. Holy crap that was amazing, I'm glad we're going back to Sydney so I can eat there again.
The best designed water fountain I've ever seen. It looks like a can opener, the water flows down the curves back into the water system.
Thai Restaurant Count: 1.5 (I'm counting the Thai Beef salad I had at the airport as a half)
Page in ASHONE: 187
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