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The trains whizz past me on this cool, crisp morning as I sit on one of the few green slatted benches on my platform. Announcements, people moving about from A to B, a couple of little sparrows flitting around at my feet searching for crumbs.
Its all fairly normal, nothing special or different about it other than the fact that I'm not coming back this way for a little time; I'm smiling, I'm sitting here on my bench and just taking it all in because I know I won't be able to tomorrow or the day after. Funny that. The things that might normally annoy me, like the lax attitude of the generally overweight Connex "customer service" staff in their fluoro safety vests, or the things that I look on with a bit of disdain, like the bogans in their worn out tracksuit pants and joggers on the platform opposite me, have no effect on me today. It all doesn't really matter, right? because I'm off to Germany with my sister and my mother, and I'm so excited that everything excites me today and nothing is dull or boring or repetitive.
Perhaps its all the emotions running through me; its been a massive few weeks, my stress levels at an all time high with banks and business and an array of very serious things. But now I'm breathing again as I jump on the train with my suitcase and wind jacket, and my nose is tingling from the thought of having a wonderful six weeks ahead of me with people I love and even with those ill leave behind here in Australia. I'm free again, not that I ever ceased being free, but I feel free today. The wind lifts me up and I simply just can't wait.
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Not that its ever that simple.
I arrive at Eva's somewhat later than planned, and realise that the suitcase I'm using for my hand luggage - despite its perfect, on-the-limit size dimension - is way too heavy. I quickly do a reshuffle into another bag. Ok, ok, we need to get going. As we pack the car, we realise our second small dilemna; we have too much luggage, too many kilos. It will have to do. They never check on Qantas.
Half way to the airport, Eva asks if I have everything - my phone charger, my Euros, my two passports, my... My two passports? Shit. No, I don't have my two passports, I have only my new one, and at that moment I realise of course that I've made a very big mistake that could cost us our flights and/or my return into the country. As the second isn't really an option for more than a few seconds, we speed back along the way we came to retrieve my old passport with my all-important visa. Will we make it? Will we make it?
My excited calm is rapidly transforming into high-level stress. Mum is waiting for us in Sydney to catch the connecting flight to Frankfurt and I'm trying to think of ways how I might explain to her that she might have a very comfortable three-seat leg from Sydney onwards as her fellow passengers are out of action. Shit.
Somehow, we get to the airport minutes before our flight closes. We literally run with our luggage - not an easy feat with two suitcases each put a case of wine - to the front of the check in counter and collapse in front of them. Eva blurts out our flight details as though her life depended on it, her words sort of overtaking one another throughout the sentence, all of them trying to reach the finish in time. Its fine. We will make it.
The check in man has put us onto the next flight out as it would be a little too rushed for our bags to make it, but luckily we have left enough time in between flights that we can afford a bit of a delay. Could you please place your bags on the conveyor belt. Sure. There we go, they are all on. Everything is fine. How did we wing it, I wonder in relief?
The check in man's frown changes complexion in that same instant; my relief again turns into mild anxiety, and my body braces itself for further battle. Ladies, you are twelve kilos over. That will be $280 to Frankfurt.
Ok, ok, we can deal with this. Its not that much weight afterall and our hand luggage is nearly empty. I feel heat rising off my little sister standing next to me. I can see she has half a mind to raise the topic of total weight allowance per flight, and point out in no uncertain terms that she is regularly discriminated against as no check in person seems to take notice that we are both half the body weight of the lady in line behind us. How much is she overweight and why are we getting charged to pay for her McDonald's love handles? Luckily, she remains silent and polite.
We spread out on the floor and repack our suitcases. Suitcase content into hand luggage, wine case content into suitcases. Again, we wing it somehow. The check in dude's frown subsides and he even let's an extra two kilos slide. We are on our way.
As we are munching down on plane snacks in a rather blissful after-shock state, the PA sounds and announces that we will be delayed into Sydney. Ahh, of course. It couldn't be that easy. At this stage we notice we are seated literally in the back row of the plane; frowns appear on our faces. We have to get from domestic to international on a stupid bus, then clear customs, find mum and get to the gate on time. It appears we may have a time issue. Again.
I'm beginning to feel that its no longer about "going on holidays" but about "getting on that plane". Very reflective of my crazy, high stress life of the past few months, its something I was wanting to leave behind here in Melbourne. Evidently there are other plans; I do hope I can alter their course shortly. I really need to just breathe again.
We hit the tarmac, we mentally eject people off the plane, we eventually get off ourselves, we run again, we get on the bus, we marvel at how slow the bolding driver is going, we get off the bus, we go through security, we pray for no explosives testing, we get past the explosives testing without even a wink from the tester, we run to custom, we run through duty free shopping (quite a feat, that one), we find mum, we are at the gate. Its final boarding call, but we did it.
Good bye stress. I'm leaving you here in the departures hall with Hungry Jacks and the bad multi coloured carpet that reminds me of an Indian wedding. X
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Barry
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You'all have fun now. 'funny', i picked you for the real organised type Maria, you must be an oldest sibling hahaha, remember to schitdown and enjoy the trip - Bazza from Narri-Warren.