Immigration Staff on Angry Pills

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It's freezing cold here in a Melbourne mid-winter, and Scott says he's heard that it's snowing on nearby Arthur's Seat. Snow in Melbourne is quite unusual, so thankfully we're about to go somewhere where it's a bit warmer.

Our dog Coco's not happy; he knows when he sees suitcases that his Mummy is going to go off and leave him. We put him in the laundry and he howls. Scott and Troy drive us to the airport, and Issy gets a bit emotional as we say our goodbyes. Emma's on a Kontiki tour in New Zealand, so we said our goodbyes to her a few days ago.

It seems that the immigration staff at the airport have all taken angry pills; they yell at everyone and herd them around like cattle. They seem to reserve their greatest anger for older people who don't speak English and can't understand the signs telling them what to do. Issy says it's embarrassing, and we both sincerely hope that our international tourists don't think that all Australians are this rude and angry. I also hope that the Immigration Department doesn't read this; I wouldn't want us to get put on a blacklist and not let back into the country when we return in a few months time.

We get on the plane to find there's a delay because one of the passengers is sick. Apparently someone from the airline has decided that they're too sick to travel, so they need to get them off the plane. This sucks for the passenger. They've probably had their trip planned for months, just like we have. There's then another delay while they track down some baggage handlers to get the sick passenger's luggage off the plane. We're told this is for safety reasons, which I think is code for them wanting to make sure the sick passenger isn't faking it, and that the real reason for them wanting to get off is because their luggage has got a bomb in it.

Our flight to Dubai is an exhausting and mind-numbing 14 hours.

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