Travelling Hopefully

As we settled into our seats we were warned that as our aircraft would be travelling to the United States we had to avoid congregating into groups while we were on the plane.  This despite the fact that I have probably never been physically closer to more people in my life.  I edged to the side of my seat and gazed with suspicion at the person next to me.  Somehow we both managed to avoid the attention of security.

While waiting for gravity to reassert its temporarily surrendered dominance over our metal steed I settled down to read The Death of Truth by Michiko Kakutani which had thoughtfully been provided to me by Thomas Siemsgluess.  Much thanks to Thomas; straight outta Hamburg!

The Death of Truth by citing learned studies and referencing various authors and philosophers managed to dress up a statement of the bleeding obvious that I had managed to figure out myself despite the fact that I have only the vaguest idea of what post modernism is (for the record, its a sort of intellectual blind alley that various people have charged down with such enthusiasm that they've got hopelessly lost despite the fact that there's nowhere to go).  I actually agreed with most of what the author said but I would have been grateful if he had actually suggested anything that we could have done about the situation.  That's the bit that I didn't already know.  Sadly I still don't.

With a greater understanding of the imminent collapse of  human civilisation thus attained I settled in to watch Deadpool 2.  After which I browsed the documentaries the inflight entertainment had to offer.  Principal among them, "Rise of the Sexbots".  That collapse of civilisation thing isn't exactly a work in progress any more.

It took me less time to get through customs in Canada than it did to simply change planes in Dallas.  Once Homeland Security decided I was unlikely to be an existential threat to their transit lounge I was released to wander the corridors of Dallas-Fort Worth airport like a sleep deprived ghost.  In the absence of sleep I developed an alternate revivification routine.  I changed my clothes, washed such parts of me as were immediately accessible, purchased coffee and arranged for a muscular black guy to massage my neck and back.  That last one is unlikely to surprise too many people who know me.  Nor will the fact that I had to pay for it.

With sleep held at bay and vigour (or something that in my sleep deprived state I mistook for vigour) restored I climbed into another plane for the trip to Toronto and what a sad comedown it was.  The Sydney-Dallas flight had been in an A-380 where even in economy you need a gardener to tend the estate that comes with your seat.  For the Dallas-Toronto flight we were crammed into what looked like a roll of Christmas wrapping paper with wings.  I also noticed it actually required more space to land the thing that it did for the A-380 which was odd given there are countries smaller than an A-380.

Canadian customs having hurled me onto the street without even asking why I was in their country I found my hotel and settled down for about four hours sleep before getting up and catching another plane, this one to Newfoundland.  Once in Newfoundland I caught another plane to St Anthony which is where my holiday really starts.  I seem to have been travelling in the aircraft version of a Russian doll.  Each plane has been a bit smaller than the last.  By the time I got onto the flight to St Anthony the plane looked like something you might get as a toy in your breakfast cereal.

The next day I would be travelling to a Viking settlement and then onto the lighthouse where I'll be staying.  I have one night's sleep to remove the effects of approximately two and a half days of jetlag.  I'm actually typing this the next day and I can tell you that it wasn't enough.  On the other hand if I can stay awake long enough the next blog post might actually contain something other than filler about travelling through the air.