Showing posts with label jetlag. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jetlag. Show all posts

Thursday, October 16, 2014

London Bridge Is(n't) Falling Down

Previously: I went on a walking tour of London and saw some weird art at the National Portrait Gallery.

My second day in London commenced at 4.25am when my brain decided that four hours of sleep was more than enough. At 5.30am, I gave up on trying to sleep and started reading. At 5.40am, I got hungry but the kitchen was down four flights of stairs, so I ate a packet of gummi fruit salad and got sugar all over the bedclothes (whoops). At 6am, I tried to sleep again and failed monumentally. At 7.30am, I started to play a fun game called "At what time will my brother and all his housemates be gone so that I can wander around in my pyjamas like a zombie?".

I eventually dragged myself out of bed at about 8.30am, and did all kinds of fun things like adding huge wings to my eyeliner and twelve layers of mascara to make myself feel more awake. I also phoned the hotel where my parents were to stay that night (they were due to arrive in London at 5.30am, but their plane was delayed by fourteen hours) to say that they'd be late, and the guy on reception could not have been less interested if I'd tried to explain the Australian taxation system to him.

I finally left the house at about 11am and headed in the general direction of my brother's office, as we were meeting for lunch. I got there horribly early, so wandered across London Bridge to see this through the haze:


I wandered a little further, and stumbled across The Monument to the Great Fire of London, which was rather unexpected, then headed back across London Bridge to meet C at Borough Market. After perusing all the lunch options on offer, I settled for fresh spinach and ricotta ravioli with napoli sauce, and we sat in the grounds of Southwark Cathedral to eat. Because, you know, it's totally no big deal eating lunch in the grounds of a church that's been around four times longer than your country!

After we'd finished our pasta, I decided that seeing as how brownies are kind of my thing and C had been rambling since I arrived about how good the brownies were at this one store next to the market that I should check it out. Which is how I came to order a salted caramel and vanilla fudge brownie ("The Fudgepacker Brownie", which made C laugh hysterically) from Konditor and Cook. And holy Jeebus, it was amazing. Ugly, especially after being squashed in a paper bag, but utterly delicious:


After lunch, I'd been planning on going down to Greenwich but I decided that Greenwich probably warranted more time than I had left that day, so instead I walked back across London Bridge and down the river to the Tower of London. I thought that it would be a pretty quick visit, given that I'd been there several times as a kid. But I ended up spending all afternoon there. The World War I memorial installation is absolutely breathtaking, especially when you consider that what's currently in place is only about half the poppies that will ultimately be installed. Every night at sunset, a bugler (not a burglar) plays The Last Post, and approximately one hundred names are read out. I didn't get a chance to see it, but I imagine it's pretty special. The poppies alone are staggering.


I arrived with a little time to spare before the next guided tour, which meant I was lucky enough to see an American woman looking at the "Next tour leaves at" clock, and asking the other members of her party if time worked the same way in the UK as it does in America, a question I'm still giving a confused dog head tilt about. Luckily, the other members of her group seemed equally confused (I wonder if it's the fact that it was an analogue clock and she was used to digital??) and quickly explained to her that yes, clocks work the same way in England.

The tour was interesting, although sadly we didn't get to go into the chapel, which was closed for repairs that day. But I *did* get to see a teenage girl being made to delete the photos she took of the Crown Jewels from her phone, so that was fun.

I took a much needed hot chocolate break in the cafe, and seriously considered taking a nap on the table because I'd hit a fairly dramatic patch of oh-God-I-woke-up-at-4am-and-need-to-sleep-immediately. Luckily, it wore off after a while and I was able to drag myself up again and head into the exhibits in the White Tower. And I'm glad I did, because they were pretty damned fabulous. There was the stuff I remembered - namely, the armour of various kings throughout history - but there was also some fascinating newer stuff about the Tower's role as a mint, as a centre for training soldiers over the centuries, and as an armoury. It included this rather spectacular dragon made out of all sorts of weapons from a bunch of different time periods:


I left the White Tower just in time to see Tower Bridge being opened to let a ship pass through, which was excellent timing because apparently that now only happens once or twice a week. Well done, Kirsti. Good job.

By the time I'd finished at the Tower, it was 5pm, so I texted C to ask when he was going to be done with work. He said he'd be another half hour or so, so I decided that I'd walk back to his office across Tower Bridge and down the other side of the river. If I'd had more time, I would have gone to the Tower Bridge Museum, but unfortunately there was only time to walk across the bridge, stopping for a couple of photos along the way, because obviously:
Zombie Kirsti is a zombie. And may also be sunburnt.
I made it to C's office at about 5.35pm, and of course he didn't turn up for another 25 minutes. Until I sent him a text message that said "Come the fuck on, Bridget!" (because obviously), after which he decided to grace me with his presence. We headed back to his place, grabbed all of my stuff, and headed back to the station, stopping off at Chipotle to shove burritos in our faces (obviously I texted Gina to tell her all the ways in which it wasn't *quite* right). Then we headed to Earl's Court to meet the parentals.

Except that we needn't have eaten quite so fast, because they got there approximately forty five minutes later than we'd anticipated. Womp womp. Still, once they arrived we made it to the Hotel-of-the-Disinterested-Reception-Staff with no problems, dumped all the luggage, and headed out to the pub for a much needed drink. Then C headed for home because he had to work and was catching a much later flight the following day, and I got to spend the night on a surprisingly comfortable camp stretcher.

Next up, I continue to try and fit more than one day into a post (and I will probably continue to fail), but more importantly, we head to Portugal!

K xx

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Look ma, no safety net!

Previously: I flew to London and it took 5eva. 

So after having gone to bed at 10pm in a state of slightly delirious cannot-keep-my-eyes-open jetlag, I woke up at 5.45am with Defying Gravity stuck in my head on an endless loop. So obviously, I did what any self respecting blogger would do - told Twitter about it. Then I checked my emails, read a couple of blog posts, and passed out for another three hours. And obviously had nightmares about my teeth falling out because that's what sleep deprivation does to you.

I went downstairs to find that my little brother had decided that Jetlagged!Kirsti wouldn't be capable of locating the Lonely Planet guide to London on his bookshelf, so instead he'd placed it in the pantry in front of the bread. What, you think I'm kidding? BOOM:

Yup. That happened.

Then I spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out how to get the sim card out of my phone. I ended up having to Google it and watch a video on Youtube. You know how you get the sim card out of my phone? YOU PUSH IT IN AND IT POPS OUT. A two year old could work that shit out. But not me. Sigh. Then I realised that if I was going to make it to a 1pm walking tour of the City of Westminster, I had approximately 45 minutes in which to shower and get ready. Obviously, I spent twenty of those minutes on Tumblr, because I make good life choices.

Anyway, because of my EXTREMELY GOOD LIFE CHOICES, I ran out the door at 12.30 with no time to panic about navigating around London on my own, speed walked the 10 minutes to the Tube station, managed to get straight on a train (it was even going in the right direction! Good job, me) to Kings Cross, changed to the Piccadilly Line at Kings Cross (and got straight on ANOTHER train going in the right direction), and made it to Covent Garden station by about 12.53pm. Which gave me seven minutes to get to the tour. That would have been plenty of time to get there AND buy a bottle of water/snack if it hadn't been for the fact that half the lifts at Covent Garden station were out of order and there was a queue ten deep for the lifts.

So I took the stairs. All 197 of them. And it was as horrible as you'd imagine. (It doesn't sound like that much, but it's apparently the equivalent of a 17-ish storey building. So...yeah.)

Still, I made it to the top and found the tour by 12.59pm because I AM A STAIR CLIMBING CHAMPION. However, I had zero time to buy water or food and therefore spent the rest of the afternoon fighting the urge to drink the Thames. My walking tour itself started thusly:

Guide: "Hey guys, how're you going? As you may have guessed from the accent, I'm not from London. I am, in fact, from Melbourne."
Me: "...of course you are."

Anyway, the tour was full of random historical information and one annoying Canadian guy who wouldn't shut up about how pointless royalty is and also the following sites:
  • Trafalgar Square
  • St. James' Palace
  • Buckingham Palace
  • St. James' Park
  • The Horse Guards parade ground
  • 10 Downing Street
  • The Houses of Parliament
  • Westminster Abbey
After the tour, I quickly found the nearest Prêt à Manger because I was freaking STARVING, and rapidly shoved some food into my face. Then I headed across the road to the National Portrait Gallery where I saw some truly ridiculous paintings:
Disturbingly thin legs for days
WHAT IS YOUR HAT SIR??
Apparently Queen Caroline was the cornucopia
of the Hanovarian line because she had tons of kids. Ew.
Babies wearing stupid outfits make me happy.
Lord Kitchener? OR. David Bowie with a killer mo?
That night, C and I headed to dinner at a Peruvian restaurant near his house. It was a little on the pricey side for a regular Wednesday night dinner, but they had this, so it was a total win from my perspective: 

And then I collapsed into bed. Because jetlag, yo.

Next up, I try to fit more than one day into a post. And also go to the Tower of London. 

K xx

Monday, October 6, 2014

A good idea at the time

Back in about June, I went to book my tickets to London and discovered that Qantas was in the process of changing their daily flight from Melbourne to London. Instead of leaving at like 3pm, it was moving to an 11pm departure. This seemed pretty much perfect for me, because I was planning on working on the 8th September and then flying out on the 9th. But now? I could work on the 8th AND fly out on the 8th! GENIUS.

Except then the 8th September actually arrived, and it suddenly seemed like not such a fabulous idea...

It probably didn't help that the day didn't get off to a great start - I got up to discover that I hadn't successfully cancelled our food delivery as I'd thought, and that there was a bag sitting on the front doorstep containing four litres of milk, a loaf of bread, 500g of beef mince, and a packet of cheese slices. Luckily, everything except the milk could go in the freezer or survive unopened until I got home, but I had to cart the stupid milk to work with me. And it turns out that four litres of milk is surprisingly heavy...

Work, thankfully, went smoothly. Although I feel like this contextless post-it note that I found on the floor summed up my feelings about the day quite well:


After work, I raced home, spent half an hour on the phone to Little Miss A while she did her reading, watered the gardens (of course Melbourne would experience flash floods the following day, meaning that I could have saved myself 45 minutes of watering. SIGH.), finished packing, showered, realised I was going to miss the tram, frantically Googled the bus timetable, ran out the door with my suitcase, ran back when I realised I'd left my laptop cord behind, shoved the cord into my backpack while attempting to lock the front door, ran to the bus stop (which, thankfully, is outside the house next door), and spent the next five minutes wondering if I'd missed the bus or not. Thankfully, I hadn't.

Once on the bus, I promptly began panicking that I'd left 15,000 things behind (I hadn't) and that I'd forgotten to put the alarm on (I hadn't). I got to the train station without any issues, and reorganised my backpack while waiting for the train. Once in the city, it was off to the airport bus. Luckily, there weren't many people heading that way, so I could practice standing on the right of the escalator in preparation for the Tube.

Eventually, I made it to the airport and checked in without any issues. Then I headed to McDonald's and bought some chips because I couldn't make it through emigration and security without eating SOMETHING. Once through all of that nonsense, I got Rickrolled by Melbourne Airport Duty Free, then went and ordered some proper food, which turned out to be a vegetarian pizza that tasted like bacon, something that really shouldn't be a thing...

Eventually, I was on the plane and ready for almost 24 hours trapped in a metal cylinder. WHEEEEEEEEEE. Luckily, Qantas apparently loves Marvel almost as much as I do, so I spent a decent chunk of the trip watching Marvel movies - X-Men: Days of Future Past, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, and Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I also could have watched Captain America: The First Avenger, Iron Man 2, or Iron Man 3. But I figured three Marvel movies in a 24 hour period was probably enough. (I did also watch non-Marvel stuff, but most of it wasn't worth mentioning. Except Chef. That was great.)

The flight was...rather more exciting than anticipated. There was a 20-something girl sitting across the aisle from me who turned out to be insanely claustrophobic, so a couple of hours into the flight, she had a full blown panic attack and spent the next two hours of the flight lying on the floor by the bathrooms while her parents hovered awkwardly. Eventually, they decided to move her and her parents to a bulkhead row so that they had some more space, but because the flight was basically full, this meant having to move some people.

Said people were flying on staff tickets, one of the conditions of which is that you can be bumped at any time. But despite this, they threw a massive hissy fit and complained for like 20 minutes at the top of their lungs. At 3am while the entire plane was trying to sleep. Even after one of the staff had coldly explained to them the conditions of their tickets and informed them that everyone was trying to sleep, they still complained for another 10 minutes or so at the top of their lungs. So that was suuuuuuuuuuper fun. Still, I managed to get about five hours' sleep, which wasn't too bad, all things considered.

After approximately a hundred million years and a two hour layover in Dubai, we landed at Heathrow, where I promptly discovered that in the 27+ hours since I left home, my mascara had gone from freshly applied to this:
"Who the hell is Bucky?". Also, source.
Luckily, I realised before I went through passport control or they may not have let me in the country... From there, I walked approximately a thousand kilometres to the Tube and made my way to my little brother, C's, office. I don't think the fancy pants receptionist downstairs was expecting someone in day-old clothes dragging a suitcase, because she looked a little perplexed before reluctantly giving me a visitor's badge. And then the receptionist at C's company had to try and get in touch with him by 14 different methods because he wasn't answering his phone. (It turned out he was shooting the breeze by the photocopier. Obviously...)

Eventually, we headed back to C's place and I was able to shower which was possibly the most exciting thing of ever. And then we headed out for a walk along the canal in the hopes that the last remaining sunlight of the day (after landing at 1.30, I didn't get to C's office until 4.00) would help my body clock to adjust. After nearly being run over by bikes for half an hour, we abandoned that plan in favour of food, and headed to a nearby pub for dinner.

Once there, I promptly decided to kickstart my holiday in fine form:

Which backfired once I realised that I'd just drunk most of a pint of cider without having eaten in about 8 hours, and I rapidly hit fight-the-urge-to-sleep-on-the-table territory... I rallied with the help of cheese fries and managed to stay awake long enough to get back to C's house and watch some TV before collapsing into bed at about 10.00.

And really, I think that's quite enough for one post! Next time, I brave the mean streets of London without a safety net.

K xx

Friday, October 3, 2014

I'm baaaaaaaaaack!

That's right kids, I'm back in Melbourne again. I landed last night at 8.55pm after spending approximately FOREVER (read: 22.5 hours) on a plane. I didn't go to bed last night until about 1am because I'd had four hours' sleep on the plane and therefore my brain thought it was time to be awake. It was decidedly not time to be awake. Other times it was not time to be awake? 8.20am, which is when I woke up. I was feeling okay for a decent chunk of the morning, but now it's 12.33pm and I feel approximately like this:

Source
Needless to say, I shall shortly be going to the supermarket to buy approximately a million litres of Coke to keep me awake until bedtime. Because as much as I want to nap this afternoon, it's not an option because my cousin's wedding is tomorrow afternoon and if I nap today, I'll want to nap tomorrow, and then I'll fall asleep in the middle of the ceremony and THAT WOULD BE BAD, YOU GUYS.

Anyway, because I love you, I spent like 20 minutes this morning editing together the video footage that I took while I was away. There's not a whole lot because I kept forgetting to shoot anything until I was nearly at the end of visiting somewhere (see also: why there's footage of the Hampton Court gardens, but not Hampton Court itself). Womp womp.

I promise I'll start telling you guys all about my trip next week, but for the time being, here's a little sneak peek:


Happy weekend!

K xx

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Packing is hard, yo

So I leave for London on Monday night. And let me tell you right now, I am WOEFULLY underprepared for this trip. Have I started thinking about what I want to do/see in London? Nope. Have I thought about what clothes and shoes I'm going to take that will adequately cover me for all possible weather conditions? Not even. Have I gone to the supermarket and stocked up on miniature toiletries? LOLNOPE.

My suitcase is out of the cupboard though, so I guess that's a start?

I'm slightly nervous about getting from Heathrow to my brother C's office in the middle of London, especially when jetlagged and dragging a suitcase behind me. It will involve changing trains and remembering to stand on the right so that I don't get murdered (or at least sighed at excessively) and generally going up and down escalators with a suitcase.

C's given me detailed instructions on how to get to his office which will hopefully prove to be idiot-proof. He even included a street view picture of his office so that I know what it looks like. And if I prove too jetlagged to follow simple instructions, he's informed me that I should ask the staff at the tube station where McDonald's is, and use the free wifi to let him know that I'm an idiot and to come rescue me.

All I know at this point? Is that I'll be taking a lot less luggage than the last time I went to England. Admittedly, I was going to England for several months to study. But I'm still not sure it warranted 40kg worth of luggage...

As for the rest, I foresee this gif coming in handy next Tuesday:
Source

WHAT SHOULD I PACK, YOU GUYS?? TELL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*.

K xx

*Obviously, I have already packed the Tim Tams and Kraft mac and cheese that C's requested.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

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.
image
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

Saturday, February 2, 2013

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

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Thailand - the short version

Well, I'm back in the 'berra again after two weeks away. Thailand was great fun, and I managed to stay awake while waiting for the plane. I also managed to read the three books I took with me within two days, and then had to move on to all the books that Kat and Ness had taken with them... Anyway, the short version of the trip went a little like this:


Tuesday: Work all day, fly to Melbourne, fly to KL via Jakarta

Wednesday: Fly from KL to Phuket, check into hotel, sit by the pool

Thursday: Go to the beach, do some shopping

Friday: Sit by the pool all day, go to the lady-boy cabaret

Saturday: Elephant trekking, including baby elephant show, monkey demonstration, and a ride in a water buffalo tuk tuk; night on the town

Sunday: Phuket town, sit by the pool

Monday: Phi Phi Island trip

Tuesday: Shopping, Ness and Kat get their feet eaten by fish, Thai cooking class, night on the town

Wednesday: Phang Nga Bay trip, saw numerous Japanese couples in matching head to toe outfits...

Thursday: Fly to KL, kill nine hours, see a bunch of people being deported, fly to Melbourne via Jakarta, with an extra two hours in Jakarta while they fixed the starboard engine...


But if you want the long version, and have a lot of stamina, read on to the next post!!

K xx

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Airport Bound!!

Yes, that's right kiddies. I'm off to Thailand!! At 1.00 tomorrow morning... *groan* God knows how I'm going to stay awake long enough to get on the plane. I might have to break my not drinking Coke rule *gasp* In the meantime though, all my bags are packed and I'm ready to go (aaah, memories of Year...10, maybe???...house music!!). Now I just have to make it through eight and a bit hours of the colonial histories of Melbourne and Hobart, and attempting to write text for objects I've never seen before that were owned by people I've never heard of before (well, except for good ol' Batman and a multitude of Hentys. Thank you, Grade 4 history!!). Should be fun!!! *has a small panic attack and hides under her desk in the foetal position*

I also have the fun task of deciphering Anthea's abbreviations on all the notes she's left me. Okay, so I could just call her and ask what they mean, but where's the fun in that?? Although I might have to cave and do just that - it took me a good couple of hours yesterday to work out that 'phy' was an abbreviation for photography. And here I was wondering what physics had to do with colonial objects from Port Phillip and Van Diemen's Land...

Anyway, I'm off to have a small case of OCD and check that I have my passport with me 45,000 times (you know, just in case it's escaped from my bag since the last time I checked). Wish me luck not falling asleep at the airport!!!

K xx

PS. Having spent months last year complaining about how ugly it is, last night I took my electric orange Gecko's luggage tag off my pack and put it onto my suitcase... I think I've offically gone insane... Although it *does* make your suitcase easy to spot on the carousel!! ;)
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