(Note: military time references due to crossing the International Date Line and today became tomorrow. Or is it the reverse? All I know it is the same Daylight Saving Time funny-math that caused me moved to Arizona.)
The flight on Qantas from Los Angeles to Melbourne was good. We were wheels up at 22:00h. We were given sets of PJs which we initially rejected as pompous but then The Husband and I got sucked in by peer pressure and there we were, snug as bugs in our drab grey prison uniforms comfy PJs.
I gave The Husband one of my prescription sleeping pills around 00:00h and he was out, though randomly his head would pop up over our seat partition like Whack-a-Mole then quickly disappear. Fun through chemistry.
I got kicked out of the First Class bathroom. Hey, you walk around in the same PJs, you blend together like prisoners classmates in school uniforms. How was I to know? (I knew).
We are in the final 3 hours of the flight. The cabin is starting to stir. A new Customer Service Manager just asked if we needed a Customs Form and then summarily tossed it at us. I miss Alan Cummings.
Not to complain but it’s been at least six minutes since I’ve had something to eat. Just like prison home.
See you on the other side. I’ll let you know today how tomorrow was for us yesterday.
Those are some strange looking airplane seats. So that’s not first class? They look like cubicles, so my guess is, it’s business class.
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Yes, business class. The couch area was just at the front of the cabin space. Not one person used it.
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