Californication
February 16th 2009 On Jan 31 I walk up to the Qantas check-in counter with one large and one small backpack. The woman behind the counter has long, blonde hair and clumpy mascara, and judging from the way she greets me I’m guessing she’s had a long day already.
She prompts me for my passport, and when I hand it to her she flips through it hastily and asks me where the documentation for my flight out of the Stat
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