Drops of Jupiter (Sydney, NSW to Perth, WA, part 2)

 Sleep, dear reader, such a regenerative process. I feel so much better, but to conclude yesterday's story ...

The Flights

There is a reason Qantas is upgrading the fleet and it's not just because they made a shitload of money during the pandemic and continue to ignore their customers. The 737 aircraft are aging and the plane we flew to Melbourne on fits that category.

NSW south coast, Kiama.

The Business Lounge in Sydney was as always. A good selection of food, swift service and comfortable lounges. More comfortable than the plane to Melbourne. We were late leaving. No surprises there. Let's blame the wood nymphs or the fairies at the bottom of the garden or the wind that never reached the predicted speeds. Boarding was reasonably civilised because, well, we were already there waiting because the plane was late. As for the new Qantas boarding procedures? Yeah, right. Non-existent. The usual free-for-all and if row numbers were called they were ignored by the customers and the staff. The flight was uneventful and the cabin staff were, as always, delightful.

Lunch en route

Our bag was checked through so it was straight from the plane to the Melbourne Business Class Lounge. Now, I don't want to add to the Sydney-Melbourne rivalry because there can be only one winner. As there is in any sibling contest. The elder wins. Always. And here too. The Melbourne Business Lounge is average. The food offerings are limited and it was reported that the 'facilities' needed attention from an attendant.

Nearing Melbourne.

Once again the plane was late and boarding resembles a rugby maul. One line. Fortunately no one could take our seats, although I was more concerned about the overhead space for our luggage. Regardless, we boarded, stowed bags and settled in. The seat in front of me was reclined as soon as we were in the air. Like seriously! 

Dinner options were canvassed. Alcohol was offered. It was then I realised that I was driving at the end of the flight and it was water for me. Sad face. Jayne's Malbec looked enticing.

Again a 737, not quite as aged as the previous leg, but with no individual screen. Maybe I spent too much time travelling for work, but I'm used to an individual screen to distract from the boredom of the flight. Especially when there is no point looking out of the window. Black, black and more black. I was momentarily captivated by the shared screen once the Bruce Springsteen concert was over (really? he has like four decent songs) and Corpse Bride replaced the aged American 'rocker'.

Anyway, blah, blah, arrived in Perth. Eventually found the car hire place. Signposting, we have discovered, is not a strength of this Antipodean outpost. After a chat with car-guy, "Like what is with Sydney today? Everyone is late". As if we would be surprised by that fact having just arrived from Sydney via Melbourne.

Perth

Perth is a bit like visiting your grandmother. It's a nice idea but as soon as you arrive you begin to think about leaving. To be fair, it almost 20 years since we have been here, so maybe, maybe, I'll reconsider.

I tapped the hotel address into my iPhone and plugged into the car's system. All good. Two turns out of the airport onto some major, and I mean major, 8 lane freeway emulating all that is wrong with LA in the US of A. My siri, Declan, so named because I've given him an Irish accent, kept instructing me to exit left. Just like Snanglepuss the Tiger. What? Oh, google it.

At the fourth attempt, Roads WA, or whatever they are called here, allowed us to exit the freeway only to backtrack 8kms. Finally we were on the road to bed. It had been a long day and it still wasn't quite over.

Our hotel, the Murray Street Novotel, is in the heart of Perth. To be exact - it is PARTY CITY, writ large and LOUD. Easy to find. Not so easy to find a parking spot where we might park. Remember that signposting issue thing?

After a couple of laps of Murray Street - hey, we weren't alone, all the cool kids were doing it. Just not in a Camry. We found a spot which allowed Jayne to speak to hotel staff. In a surprising move, I won't bore you with the details, suffice to say we did another lap of the precinct and ended up in the Wilson carpark across the street.

Down the alleyway, past many homeless people, into the carpark. Find a space. Gather our bags. Find the stairwell, there was no lift, and out onto the street where all the beautiful people are doing their best to ensure they won't remember a thing when the sun comes up tomorrow. The bar directly opposite the hotel has live music and he is singing Drops of Jupiter  - ffs. What year is it? Who even remembers who sang it? OK, so you get the 2001 song reference now.

Finally in our room. The bed is good. The cricket is going well. The Bunnies have won. In retrospect it wasn't such a bad day. ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The party outside continued well into the morning. At around 4:30am the street quietened. Grateful for the double glazed windows.