Biscuits and burgers

Oh, hey. Bet you thought I'd forgotten about this, didn't you? But NO. I was just slacking busy okay fine, slacking. That's right, kids. It's finally time for the very last installment of "Kirsti tells you about her trip to America which happened six months ago"! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Previously, Gina and I went hot air ballooning and got judgey looks from a bunch of old people.

My flight out of Phoenix wasn't until 3.30 in the afternoon, so the morning was taken up with packing, eating tres leches cake, and concerned questions from Gina's kids about what things I would be putting in my suitcase. Example:

Kid #2: Are you going to take the balloons???
Me: No, kiddo. They wouldn't fit in my suitcase, for starters!
Kid #2: You can't take the balloons.
Me: They're your balloons, I'm not going to take them.
Kid #2: *suspicious look*

He checked on me at least three times to make sure I hadn't packed the balloons.

As it got closer to lunchtime, Gina decided it was a travesty that I'd never had biscuits in all the times I've visited the US, and decided that Red Lobster was the best way to fix the problem. But we weren't sure how they'd feel about us rocking up and being all "Hey, can we get a serve of biscuits and literally nothing else? And can we get that to take away?", on account of how the biscuits are usually free. So we phoned them. And they were a little confused at first, but apparently it was a slow day and it kept them busy for ten minutes, so they were all "Sure, whatever!".

And so we loaded the kids into the car and drove half way across Phoenix to get biscuits. They were pretty damned great.

Mmm, biscuits. Also, source.

From there, we headed to the airport where I bid a sad farewell to Gina, checked in without issue, and then spent the time until my flight perusing various bookstores. The flight to Los Angeles was pretty painless, and I took advantage of having a millionty hours to kill by walking from Terminal 6 to Terminal 3. Check in went smoothly, and I procured an aisle seat without any problems.

Then I sat outside and played Spot the American Who's Flying to Australia and Doesn't Know About Our Hand Luggage Limits while I waited for Sweeney. Fun fact? The longer you spend away from Australia, the more bogan the Australian accent sounds. After a month in the US, every single Aussie that walked past sounded like they'd just stepped off the set of Crocodile Dundee.

Luckily, Sweeney turned up before I went completely insane, and we headed off for dinner.

Sweeney: So when was the last time you saw anything other than the airport in Los Angeles?
Me: 1989? 1990? One of those.
Sweeney: Holy shit. Okay. I'm starving, so we're going to eat at In-n-Out Burger, and then I'm taking you to Santa Monica.

And that's what we did. Plus, you know, a good hour or so in LA traffic jams, because no visit to Los Angeles is complete without being stuck in traffic for a millionty years!

If In-n-Out could bring their shakes to Australia, that'd be great.

After dinner, we drove down to Santa Monica and wandered along the pier, catching up on all manner of things, planning all the plans, and adding yet more things to the "Someday, we should cover that on Snark Squad" list, otherwise known as the Spreadsheet of Dreams.

I neglected to take any proper photos on account of we were too busy catching up, but I was highly amused by the police ute at the end of the pier that had a surf board strapped to the roof. You know, for all those times when you have to chase a criminal down while catching a wave...

I didn't want to use the flash in case I got arrested...

Alas, all too quickly it was time to head back to the airport, but I'm eternally grateful to Sweeney for driving across LA in crazy traffic to save me from spending six hours at LAX on my own. I MISS YOUR FACE, SWEENS. COME VISIT ME <3

Luckily for all concerned, my flight home was rather less eventful than last time. The plane was nowhere near full, the food didn't suck, and I got about seven hours of sleep. And from a 14.5 hour flight, that's about all you can ask, really!

K xx

Let's do this properly, shall we?

So, as you may remember from this post, my flight from Melbourne to LA was pretty horrific. It was long and the girl next to me spent half of it asleep on her tray table so that I couldn't get out, and I got zero sleep thanks to the one year old twins in front of me who were on opposite sleep schedules. YAY.

So fourteen and a half hours of no sleep, plus five hours in Los Angeles, plus another five hours flying to DC. I had grand plans to sleep for at least a couple of hours on the DC flight, but I was flying with Alaska Air. And apparently Alaska Air like to make announcements about all the stuff you're flying over. So every time I dozed off, I'd get woken up by "If you look to your left, you can see the Hollywood sign" or "If you look to your right, you can see the Grand Canyon", or "If you look straight down, you can see a sabre-toothed tiger mauling a woolly mammoth". Okay, maybe that last one just happened in my head due to sleep deprivation. Whatever.

Me by the time I arrived in DC.

So I eventually got to DC, and made it to my pre-paid shuttle. Said shuttle made me hideously confused, because a) we went past the Kennedy Performing Arts Centre at least twice, and it looks a lot like the National Library (especially when you're running on 30 hours without sleep), so I kept thinking I was in Canberra, and b) we seemed to do about twelve loops of the city dropping other people off at EVERY FREAKING COLLEGE CAMPUS IN TOWN before heading out to College Park. So having landed in DC at 9pm, I finally made it to the hotel at about 10.30. Then this happened:

Me: Yeah, hi. I'm checking in with the ____ University group. I'm rooming with Agatha Goodkin, I think she's already arrived?
Desk clerk: Oh yeah, she has. Here's your key, you're in room *mutter*.
Me: Sorry, room what?
Desk clerk: 2*mutter*
Me: Sorry, 2...??
Desk clerk: TWO OH THREE. *rolls eyes* So you go through that door and then around to the left and up the stairs *waves hand vaguely*.
Me: Okay, thank you very much.

There were no stairs in the direction in which she'd waved her hand, and there was no left around to the left. Just car park and the diner next door. Eventually, my sleep deprived self decoded that she meant I needed to walk straight, then go AROUND the outside of the stairwell to access the stairs, and successfully made it to the room. Agatha Goodkin, bless her, was on hand with muesli bars and bottles of water to tide me over until morning, and the next thing I knew, it was 9.30am and she was returning from a last minute dash to the breakfast buffet, bearing bagels and fruit and coffee.

Seriously. Y'all need to room with Agatha Goodkin.

We took things pretty slowly the first day, making it into DC by lunchtime and having a small adventure locating the entrance to the Old Post Office. You wouldn't think it would be hard to find. It's a pretty obvious building. But the entrance forces you to choose between three massive closed wooden doors, two of which are locked. And when you finally pick the right one, there's an x-ray scanner, a metal detector, and two hulking security guards standing literally about a metre inside the door. I'm fairly certain my reaction to all of this was "Yay, right doo-EEEEEP."

But the view from the top was worth both the unexpected security guards AND the arctic winds:

Also? FREE.

From there, we felt the need to warm up, and took a little detour to see my favourite taxidermied animal of all time - the fennec fox of insanity:

I now have a second favourite taxidermied animal of all time - the soprano soloist in the mouse/hamster/rodent thing(?! ideas regarding species appreciated) choir:

Once we'd finished there, it was already dark, so we caught the subway back to College Park for an incredibly nutritious dinner at Applebee's. Agatha Goodkin then headed out to see a band with a friend while I slowly turned into a zombie in front of three straight hours of Say Yes To The Dress. Let me tell you, most of those women should have said NO to the dress. Because those dresses were not only fugly, they were so fugly that they fell out of the fugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. And then when they reached the bottom, they got beaten with the fugly stick.

Case in point? This $34,000 trainwreck:

Source

Couldn't have put it better myself, Dean. 

You're welcome for those nightmares, BTW.

Up next, all manner of touristy shit. Also, pandas. Because why the hell not?

K xx

Home again

So I'm back in Melbourne once again, having survived the fourteen and a half hour flight without too many difficulties, thanks in large part to Sweeney who came and rescued me from a fate worse than death - six hours in Los Angeles International Airport with nothing to do.

Instead, I got to go to In n Out Burger, and Santa Monica, and it was made of win because I GOT TO HANG OUT WITH SWEENEY OMG *flail*.

Exciting things I have done since getting home from the airport five hours ago:
- Put the entire contents of my suitcase through the washing machine. CLEAN CLOTHES, YAY.
- Showered.
- Fangirl flailed about the fact that the water doesn't taste like chlorine.
- Brushed my teeth for the first time in 24 hours. It was VERY exciting.
- Discovered that I took over 1700 photos in the course of my four weeks overseas, and that I now have to go through them all and delete all the blurry ones, and decide which of the duplicates to keep.
- Actually unpacked my suitcase. I'm pretty sure this is a first for me! Usually it sits on my floor with about three things in it for a month afterwards.
- Ate food that wasn't brought to me covered in foil and on a tray.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand now it's 4pm and I'm rapidly heading towards Struggle Street. Thanks a lot, jetlag. Looks like it's time to break out my tried and true jetlag beating technique - drink as much caffeine as is required to keep you awake until 9pm, then sleep for 12 hours.

Wish me luck...

K xx

Melbourne to LA: the "things I wanted to tweet" edition

So I'm currently sitting in LAX, killing time waiting to board my flight to Washington. I spent a good chunk of the fourteen-ish hour flight over here wishing that I had internet access so that I could tweet all the thoughts I was having. Not having internet access in a tin can over the Pacific, I obviously wrote them all down so I could share them with you later. YAY.

• I'm currently watching The Bourne Legacy and wishing Kim was here. What up, JRenner?
• Uuuuuuuuuugh. The kid in front of me NEEDS to shut up.
• Wait. The kid in front of me is actually TWO kids. Twins. One year old twins.
• The girl next to me is wearing a parka and a blanket. I'm in a t-shirt.
• Oooooh, THREE choices of food? What a novelty!
• Um. Dessert is some kind of cheesecake thing that has actual CAKE on the bottom of it. WTF.
• Reasons why the window seat sucks: people who just swivel in their seat to let you out, forcing you to clamber over them.
• Great. One of the twins in front of me has shat itself and the smell is killing me.
• 20 minutes later, said child's parents still haven't noticed. 
• FORTY minutes later, said child's parents finally changed its nappy.
• New theory: all under 5s should be placed in a soundproof booth at the back of the plane.
• People who talk and laugh in the aisles while the cabin lights are down are EVIL.
• Goddammit, I'm so hungry. 10 hours with no food? Not cool, Virgin Australia.
• These children. I AM GOING TO STRANGLE THEM. They never sleep at the same time.
• Just pulled my blanket out of the plastic. It's crusty. Excuse me while I freeze all "night". 
• Oh my God. One of the parents just taught the twins how to open the window shades.
• As a result of the above, half the plane have turned into vampires and are hissing at the sunlight.
• Fuck, I hate the window seat. Need to pee, but the girl next to me is asleep on her tray table. Am trapped.
• Watching Brave has made me want to watch The Decoy Bride again.
• Oh God. Now the OTHER twin has shat itself. KILL ME NOW.
• Huh. Only 15 minutes for the parents to realise that time.
• Amount of sleep I have had on this flight: ZERO. Amount of time I have to spend in LAX: 5 hours. UGH.
• Benefit to the window seat? Seeing the sun rise over the Pacific. 

• STOP INTERRUPTING THE LAST FIVE MINUTES OF MEGAMIND WITH ANNOUNCEMENTS ABOUT LAX.
• Things I will never understand: why there are only ever 5 staff working the immigration desks at LAX.
• My hair smells like airplane. Ew. 
• Things I will never understand: how people can get to the front of the security line without getting out their ID.
• Things I will never understand: how the full body scanners detect metal IN MY BACK.
• Oh my God. I have clean teeth for the first time in almost 24 hours. It is heaven. 
• There are billboards for Les Miserables all over this terminal. Awesome. 

I have approximately an hour and a half until my flight to DC boards. I plan on spending it eating and taking advantage of the free wifi. Hey, a girl has to prepare herself for further internet deprivation somehow!! 

K xx

Adios, amigos

I'm currently sitting at the International Terminal of Melbourne Airport waiting for my flight to LA to board, having braved the wilds of duty free, marvelled at the fact that there's a WH Smith here (seriously, what's with this trend of having international chains AT THE AIRPORT and nowhere else?!), and consumed a fairly nasty hot chocolate.

I'm sulking a little, because I have a window seat and I object to the window seat on account of how I feel guilty having to ask people to move so that I can pee. This results in me only standing up twice for the duration of the flight. And when I *do* stand up, I inevitably brain myself on the roof of the plane. On the upside, VIEW. So far, Twitter is not backing me up on my dislike of the window seat. Clearly, I should travel with y'all because then YOU can all fight over the window seat, and I can have the aisle!

I'm also sniggering, because the woman who's doing the announcements for Qantas is from the north of England, and all I can hear is this:

Source

So...yeah.

Wish me luck getting to LA with my sanity intact, and then surviving my five hour layover. On the plus side, my luggage has been checked all the way through to DC, so at least I don't have to pay $25 to check my suitcase!!

Catch you on the flip side,
K xx

Ancient History, Volume IV

In 2004, I wanted nothing for my 21st birthday except money for a plane ticket to America. After a semester of practically living in each other's pockets back in 2002, Megan and I were on opposite sides of the world and spending large chunks of our time emailing each other hilarious quotes from Buffy and Angel. Because that's how we roll.

After much grovelling and "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease, she's my best friend and I haven't seen her in A YEAR AND A HALF!!"-ing, my parents acquiesced (Gina, that one should have gone in my favourite words comment last week!). You know what's terrifying at the age of 21? Taking $1,500 out of the bank IN CASH. Sure, I only had to take it about a hundred metres across the quad at uni to the travel agent. But it was still more money than I'd ever seen in one place at one time.

ANYRANDOMTANGENT. I boarded a plane on 12 June 2004. The flight to LA was long and dull, as most flights to LA are. Upon arrival in LA, I presented my visa waiver form to the guy at immigration, and this happened:
Him: [looks at state abbreviation] NE? Oh, you're going to New England!
Me: Um. No. I'm going to Nebraska. Is New England even a state??
Him: Oh yeah, I remember now!
Me: O.o

After several uneventful hours at LAX, I boarded a flight to Denver. During the flight, I spent rather a lot of time wondering what the white stuff on the ground could be before realising that THE ROCKIES HAVE SNOW ON THEM ALL YEAR. Duh, 21 year old me.

The next day was a Sunday, so we headed to church (where I tried my hardest not to blaspheme or spontaneously combust) before driving back to Nebraska. It turned out that the church we went to (which just happened to be right by the highway, hence choosing that church) had decided against the whole Vatican II thing. So Megan, her mum and I were the only women there in trousers, and the only women without veils on our heads. AWKWARD TURTLE. Sitting through a full sung Catholic Mass in Latin while jetlagged is pretty much what I imagine being on drugs is like. The service went for TWO HOURS and eventually we had to sneak out so that we could get on the road at a decent time.

The rest of my trip was relatively calm compared to that! We visited Megan's college town, including lunch with a couple of her professors that included "Plastic money, whaaaaaaaaaaaaa???" style comments when I pulled an Australian $10 note out of my wallet. We went to the Omaha Zoo, which included this exhibit on the native fauna of Nebraska:

Prairie dog (centre) and giant jack rabbit (bottom left)

We drove up to St. Paul to visit Liz, one of the other girls from our study abroad days, and went out on a paddle boat on the St Croix river:

While in St. Paul, we also went to a bar where this happened:
Bouncer: ID, please.
Me: Sure! [hands over international student card]
Bouncer: [stares at card, then looks at me in confusion] What month is 25?
Me: Um. 25th of April?
Bouncer: Oh, I GET IT!! It's backwards!!
Me: *facepalm*

We also visited the Mall of America, which is basically obligatory for any trip to Minneapolis-St. Paul. I maintain to this day that if there's more than one of the same shop, it shouldn't count as the biggest shopping mall in the US. I did eat Dippin' Dots though, so it wasn't a total loss.

Back in Nebraska, I had a small heart attack when two of Megan's brother's friends turned up to show off their new gun. They burst into the house all "Hey, where's B-?", waving the new gun around. Which of course I (coming from Australia, which has, you know, gun control...) interpreted as "WE HAVE A GUN AND WE'RE NOT AFRAID TO USE IT. NOW WHERE IS HE??" and went "Oh God, please don't kill me!" Apparently it's still hilarious all these years later...

For the Fourth of July, we drove out to Denver to stay with Lyndsy. I was completely baffled by the notion of a drive through ATM, to the point where I got out of the car to take a photo of Lyndsy using the drive through ATM:

We also went to the rodeo in Greeley:

Calf roping

Small child riding a sheep. Because why the hell not?

And then played the world's most epic game of Cranium with a group of people that included Lyndsy's future husband and two of Megan's future bridesmaids. We had an "everyone draws" challenge where the answer was "A rolling stone gathers no moss." Fifteen minutes later, we were still going. Until Lyndsy drew the logo for the Rolling Stones, and I yelled the answer, and we all heaved a sigh of relief. (Lyndsy - we should have framed that piece of paper. Because it was BRILLIANT.)

And that was my first (solo) trip to the US. Well. Apart from the part where I promised my thesis supervisor that I'd do a ton of reading and write at least one chapter. I carried who knows how many photocopied articles over there with me, read maybe half a dozen pages of it, and wrote about 400 words. But that part was boring.

Oh, and because you're no doubt expecting it, here - have a picture of corn and soy beans and flatness. Stereotypical Nebraska!:

Did anybody else grovel for a plane ticket for their 21st birthday? If so, where did you go?

K xx

Los Angeles - the "I'm not supposed to be here" edition

So I'm currently sitting in a hotel in Culver City, California. According to my itinerary, I should be almost to Auckland by now. Unfortunately, that's not quite how things worked out... 

Yesterday, Lyndsy drove me to the airport at about 4pm. The traffic was completely terrible, courtesy of President Obama arriving in Denver about an hour earlier, which forced the closure of all the highways in the city. Anyway, despite the terrible traffic, I made my flight with time to spare. The flight to LA was pretty unexciting. I'd had high hopes for taking photos while flying over the mountains, but it was hazy. Boo...

I arrived at Terminal 7 of LAX about 20 minutes early. My booking confirmation thingy said my flight would be leaving from the International Terminal, so I hiked walked up there through the delightful carbon monoxide. (Speaking of which, can someone explain to me how LAX still doesn't have a monorail or whatever between the terminals, like a normal airport?!?!?!) Upon arriving at the International Terminal, I discovered that Air New Zealand doesn't fly out of the International Terminal. They fly out of Terminal 2. 

OF COURSE. The terminal that was basically directly opposite where I started. Awesome. Thank you so much, LAX... So I started walking to Terminal 2. And of course, Air New Zealand is located at the far end of Terminal 2. Dear LAX: I despise you with every fibre of my being. That is all. I eventually made it to the check in counter, did all of that nonsense, and headed up to security, which was loosely organised chaos. #funtimes While standing there for a millionty years, I noticed a tall guy in the next queue over. 

Me: Huh. That tall guy kind of looks like Jason Segel.

[Tall guy turns around]

Me: HOLY SHIT. THAT *IS* JASON SEGEL!!!!!!!! 

SO much more exciting than the time I saw Michael Richards in the immigration queue in Mexico City. I kind of wanted to point him out to the whiny Londoners behind me who kept going on and on about how "Victoria [Beckham] wouldn't be subjected to this treatment. There MUST be a line for upper class!". Um, I'm pretty sure Jason Segel wouldn't be standing in the line of loosely organised chaos if he didn't have to...

After several hours of sitting around the airport, I noticed that my flight status had been updated to 'Delayed'. Shortly thereafter, an announcement was made saying that the wing of our plane had been damaged leaving the hangar. And that they needed to fly a part down from Boeing in Seattle before they could fix it. And that therefore our flight was delayed at least overnight. 

Thankfully, Air New Zealand put us all up in hotels. By the time we were transferred from the airport to hotels and had checked in, it was nearly midnight LA time and I was completely exhausted. For some reason I will never understand, American hotels have something against overhead lighting. So I was fumbling with the bedside lamps in the dark. And of course they put the switches somewhere completely bizarre, meaning that I spent a good ten minutes trying to turn the fucking things on. The exhaustion combined with the frustration led to me bursting into tears and sobbing "WHY CAN'T THEY HAVE OVERHEAD LIGHTS?????" over and over again. #socoolunderpressure

Thankfully, the hotel provided me with a delicious warm chocolate chip cookie when I checked in. #chocolatemakeseverythingbetter #nom

While waiting to check in, the old woman in front of me was hoping that they would at least provide toothbrushes and pondering how bad the plane would smell when we do eventually take off. (I just saw her in the lobby. She's now wearing her dress inside out...) Which brings me to a list.

Things you should always have with you when flying internationally:

1. Toothbrush and toothpaste

2. Deodorant

3. Concealer

4. Phone chargers

5. Spare undies

6. Hair brush

7. A singlet top (as well as a t-shirt)

Anyway, it looks like we're going to be delayed by a full 24 hours. God knows what time I'll finally make it to Melbourne. Which reminds me - 

New Zealand passengers in queue for hotel transfer: Crap, I hope we get home by [insert day here]. I have tickets to the Rugby World Cup...

Australian passengers in queue for hotel transfer: We'd better be home in time for the Grand Final on Saturday...

Everyone else in queue for hotel transfer: I just want to get there soon...

#awesomepriorities

K xx


UPDATE: I forgot to mention that our suitcases spent the night at the airport, so all we had was hand luggage. Hence the essential things to carry and the old lady's inside out dress. #forgetfulmoron

What up, America!

So I'm currently sitting in the gate lounge at the delightfully snore-worthy Los Angeles International Airport (Nikki - we're in the same state!!!!), waiting to board my flight to Chicago and by extension the 20SB Summit. OH MY GAWDDDDDDDDDDD!!! :D Anyway, I figured I'd pass the time by stuffing my face with a Starbucks bagel and writing a blog post for y'all! <-- America, you're already a terrible influence on me.
Things that make a 14.5 hour international flight a total suckfest:
1. Trying to eat peas with a very bendy plastic fork during turbulence.
2. A small child with a cold sitting a row in front of you and screaming at random intervals throughout the flight.
3. Sitting across the aisle from a man who made terrifying snorting noises for the entire flight. Surely after the first hour, you'd just find a tissue rather than snorting back your snot???
4. Being sat next to an 80 year old married couple who need to pee almost constantly, who feel the need to hold conversations with you while you're trying to watch movies, and who spent half the flight asking how to use the entertainment system...
5. Getting a whopping 45 minutes of sleep due to the combined effect of points 2, 3 and 4.
6. Finally getting to LA only to end up spending an hour in the queue for Immigration.
Things that make a sucky 14.5 hour international flight better:
1. Jake Gyllenhaal movies (shame it was Source Code...)
2. Scoring free dessert made by the first class chef from the steward to say thank you for working the entertainment system for the aforementioned old couple so he could do his job. It was creme brulee and it was amazeballs...
3. Amusing conversations with fellow passengers in the stupidly long immigration queue.
4. Getting through Immigration and to the carousel just as your suitcase is going past.
5. Having the following conversation:
Hot customs guy: Anything to declare?
Me: Four packets of chocolate biscuits??
HCG: (looks at my passport) Whoa! You have lost some WEIGHT, Miss G-!
Me: Thanks! [I have similar conversations quite a lot, due to my almost 10 year old passport]
HCG: How much weight have you lost?
Me: About 20 kilos.
HCG: Wow, nice work! And can I just say, you are GORGEOUS! Really.
Me: Considering I just got off a 14.5 hour flight and have barely slept, THANK YOU.
HCG: You're very welcome. Have a nice day!
Awesome. LAX, you have *definitely* upped your game since the last time I arrived here!
Surprisingly not tired,
K xx

What up, America!

So I'm currently sitting in the gate lounge at the delightfully snore-worthy Los Angeles International Airport (Nikki - we're in the same state!!!!), waiting to board my flight to Chicago and by extension the 20SB Summit. OH MY GAWDDDDDDDDDDD!!! :D Anyway, I figured I'd pass the time by stuffing my face with a Starbucks bagel and writing a blog post for y'all! <-- America, you're already a terrible influence on me.
Things that make a 14.5 hour international flight a total suckfest:
1. Trying to eat peas with a very bendy plastic fork during turbulence.
2. A small child with a cold sitting a row in front of you and screaming at random intervals throughout the flight.
3. Sitting across the aisle from a man who made terrifying snorting noises for the entire flight. Surely after the first hour, you'd just find a tissue rather than snorting back your snot???
4. Being sat next to an 80 year old married couple who need to pee almost constantly, who feel the need to hold conversations with you while you're trying to watch movies, and who spent half the flight asking how to use the entertainment system...
5. Getting a whopping 45 minutes of sleep due to the combined effect of points 2, 3 and 4.
6. Finally getting to LA only to end up spending an hour in the queue for Immigration.
Things that make a sucky 14.5 hour international flight better:
1. Jake Gyllenhaal movies (shame it was Source Code...)
2. Scoring free dessert made by the first class chef from the steward to say thank you for working the entertainment system for the aforementioned old couple so he could do his job. It was creme brulee and it was amazeballs...
3. Amusing conversations with fellow passengers in the stupidly long immigration queue.
4. Getting through Immigration and to the carousel just as your suitcase is going past.
5. Having the following conversation:
Hot customs guy: Anything to declare?
Me: Four packets of chocolate biscuits??
HCG: (looks at my passport) Whoa! You have lost some WEIGHT, Miss G-!
Me: Thanks! [I have similar conversations quite a lot, due to my almost 10 year old passport]
HCG: How much weight have you lost?
Me: About 20 kilos.
HCG: Wow, nice work! And can I just say, you are GORGEOUS! Really.
Me: Considering I just got off a 14.5 hour flight and have barely slept, THANK YOU.
HCG: You're very welcome. Have a nice day!
Awesome. LAX, you have *definitely* upped your game since the last time I arrived here!
Surprisingly not tired,
K xx

I-I-I so excited!

(Yes, I just paraphrased Rebecca Black. Deal with it.) You know how for the past however long I've been wibbling on about my trip to the US? Yeah, today I actually did something about it.

I've been looking at flights on and off for a while now, but haven't actually followed through on booking. Until today. Because today I realised that I had a ton of frequent flyer points sitting around gathering dust. So I figured I'd check how many points it would take to fly to the US. Well, I didn't have enough for a return flight, but I did have enough for one way. Course, having enough points doesn't mean that there's a seat available. By some miracle, there WAS a frequent flyer seat available on the day I wanted! So I started looking into flights home again.

Apparently it was my day for bargains, because I found a flight from LA to Melbourne for $800. Sure, I have to fly via Auckland, but for that amount of money, I'll take it! So I've wound up with a return flight to LA for $1100 ($300 worth of taxes on the frequent flyer points flight). Which is almost $1000 less than what I was anticipating having to pay. SCORE!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I still have a ton of stuff to book (like my internal flights, for instance!), but this is a massive step in the right direction.

Hurry the hell up, August. I'm WAY too excited to wait much longer! If you've missed it, here's where I'm going:

Chicago, for the 20SB summit:

Source

Denver, for Megan's wedding:

Source

Washington DC with Kat:

New York, with Kat:

Boston, also with Kat:

Source

There isn't enough squeeing in the world to demonstrate my levels of excitement. I have so much geeky fun planned - museums aplenty, a shit-ton of awesome things to photograph, and eating pizza on Beacon Street. (If you get that last reference, you get a million bonus points)

To my American lovelies - anyone know a good website to use for booking domestic flights? Do any of them search the discount airlines???

Also, I'm bringing you all Tim Tams. You're welcome... ;)
K xx