Another stop in Los Angeles was the last thing I wanted. Check in at O'Hare was the slowest and most grueling I'd seen in years. The line at First Class checkin took 30 minutes to navigate; I hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come. Although I had arrived at O'Hare 90 minutes prior to my flight, I had only a 10 minute wait at the gate, thanks to the checkin and security queues.

ORD-LAX / American Airlines 451 / Domestic Business Class / MD-80 / Seat 5F

I didn't relish flying in another MD-80; my least favorite jet. Remebering FEBO, I choose seat 5F, which was about as cramped as I expected. We pushed back on time at 5:50pm took off shortly afterward into a grey soup. Above the clouds, we were treated to an impressive skyline rainbow which lasted the better part of an hour as we chased it West.

After takeoff, the standard post-takeoff drink and nuts arrived. I saw nothing of the soynuts which had supposedly been added to the mix. Being a picky eater, I sorted out the walnuts and pistachios and concentrated on my gin and tonic. The salad was mixed greens with diced tomatoes and cucumbers, 2 kalamata olives, and a choice of vinagrette or ranch dressing. The dinner selections were beef short ribs or chicken jumbalaya. Thanks to advice on Flyertalk, I choose the chicken, as did the man seated next to me. The chicken breast was served covered in a mildly spiced sauce and accompanied by finely chopped cauliflower topped with cheese and a side of green beans. No part of the meal was astounding, but it wasn't bad either. Dessert was the standard ice cream sundae or cheese and grapes. I choose the latter.

Thoughout the meal, I tried not to fill up with the expectation of a much better service to follow on Qantas. The flight staff was very attentive, and my conversation with the Australian seated beside me made the short 3.5 hour trip pass quickly.

We landed in Los Angeles nearly 45 minutes early, after decending through the usual cloud of yellow-grey ooze that blanketed the city.

Los Angeles Airport Layover

Thanks to a very early arrival, I had over 3 hours to kill at LAX. I dislike L.A. more than any city I know, so I had long ago made a mental note that my holiday would not officially start until I took off for Melbourne. In the meantime, I made my way from Terminal 4 to the Tom Bradley International Terminal, stopping to take in the Singapore A345 parked nearby. I then attempted to find the Qantas First Class lounge amongst a maze of poorly marked signs and receptionists which routed me to no less than 3 lounges before I was apparently at the right one.

At 31 years on, there isn't much left in my life that gives chills down my spine. With my habit of going to England every time I'm free, I haven't had the feeling of being about to conquer something new in a long time. I remember when arriving at Heathrow was a joy for me. Now I bolt through it like I'm late for my own wedding.

But back to that spine thing. In 2001, walking into an Ilyshin Il-86 bound for Moscow was one of those times. Landing in Moscow was another. It is both a feeling of excitement, and extreme gratitude for being so lucky in life to be able to be was I am at that moment. Walking up to gate 121 and getting the first glimpse of the Qantas 747-400 brought back that quick chill in my spine for the first in recent memory. It was time for a conquest.

The icky yellow haze of Los Angeles disappeared within seconds of taking off toward the West. It was near midnight, so dinner arrived quickly for the benefit of those wishing to sleep. I started with an appetizer of seared tuna and sesame noodles, followed by a lemon chicken entree with polenta and black bean salsa. A couple of glasses of an Australian Reisling washed them down nicely. I finished with ginger cake and ice cream, followed by an Australian dessert wine.

One of the nicer aspects of the trip was the personal conversations the captain had with each member of first class. Like every other member of the cabin crew, he greeted me by name, and we had a short conversation about the progress of the trip, and the excepted arrival details. I suppose this would be an aspect of the trip the captain loathes, but it definitely impressed me, something American Airlines would be wise to emulate. Given the paranoia which still remains in the post 9/11 world, the pilots of American have practically disappeared behind reinforced cockpit doors, and are rarely seen greeting passengers. Security concerns aside, carriers have forgetten that airline pilots are one of the few professionals that still invoke universal admiration. Any contact they can have with the passengers is a valuable part of maintaining an airline's reputation.

I found the beds in the Qantas 747-400 to be much nicer than the American Airlines 'coffins', which had been the only other First Class bed I have known. The pajamas, duvet, blanket, and a substantial pillow put American's service to shame. The Qantas duvet is attached to a topsheet: the duvet provides padding underneath making the duo into a bit of a sleeping bag.

Day 2

I managed a solid 6 hours of sleep before jetlag kicked in and my body decided it was time to get up and go to work. I killed the 4 hours before breakfast watching 2 of the over 40 first class movie selections: 'Bad Santa' and 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'. Both films were excellent.

The first class cabin on Qantas has an impressive LED lighting system. The soft white lights fade into a dull blue dusk after the dinner service, which eventually fade to black. About 2 hours prior to landing, the cabin slowly comes alive in a pink sunrise, which is followed by soft white day-lighting for the meal service.

Roughly 90 minutes before arrival, breakfast was served. Due to the timing of the flight, this service seemed much more substantial than the dinner service. However, the difference could have just been the fact that I was starving and had skipped a course of the dinner service. I quickly consumed pots of fresh coffee, a berry energizer smoothie, a glass of mango juice, muslei cereal, a fruit bowl, toast with butter and vegemite, scrambled eggs, bacon, and smoked salmon.

It was about that time another bolt shot down my spine. I opened the window shade to find my fourth continent below me. I'll be honest.. it was more of a moistening of the eyes than a spine chill this time as we cruised over the Great Dividing Range. 45 minutes to Melbourne.

Unfortunately, cloud cover shortly took over the view, and it was only seconds before landing when the ground re-appeared. Gear down, and a waving plane spotter greeted us from a battered pickup truck seconds before I was on Australian soil.

Melbourne Airport Layover

It was now hour 24 since leaving Chicago, and the journey began to cough and sputter.

I was one of the first off the loaded 747, and perhaps the first to immigration, which greeting me cheerfully and welcomed me to Australia. I was glowing. 75 minutes later, I was no longer glowing. Don't you love that feeling when the baggage carousel stops moving and you're the only one standing there? I had missed my connection to Cairns, and was now standing in a slowly moving queue to inquire about my suitcase. When I finally made it to the baggage services desk I was informed that American Airlines had sent my bag from Chicago to Austin, Texas, instead of Australia. The two names must sound similarly foreign to a Midwestern baggage handler. I was informed that my bag would meet me in Cairns the following day.

After another 20 minutes of queueing for customs, I reached the Qantas ticket desk and was re-booked via Brisbane, on a Qantas CityLink service. I would now arrive in Cairns 3 hours later than expected, but luckily I had a day's worth of clothing in my carry-on. My face was starting to become quite greasy, and I was dying for my first Australian beer.

MEL-BNE / Qantas 618 / Domestic Business Class / 737-800 / Seat 2A

The flight to Brisbane was on a 737-800 with a proper business class. My lunch choice was a rather gristly lamb entree with mashed potatoes and a mixed greens salad. I suceeded in having my first Australian beer (Hahn's Premium) while watching a BBC documentary on bears and an enjoyable interview with the Finn Brothers, two of my favorite musicians.

The 2 hour flight between Melbourne and Brisbane passed over what would be my only glimpse of desert Australia. I could see mainly populated areas during the journey, but there was a definitely progression from green to brown and back to green during the trip.

The flight from Brisbane to Cairns was on a 737-400, whose business class section was of the BA model of standard economy seats with the middle seat blocked off. Service was again exemplary, and the afternoon snack introduced me to the Australian meat pies I had been anticipating. During the first hour of the flight, I was oblivious to the scene outside the window, but during hour two, I was mesmorized. We cruised up the Queensland coast about 30 miles offshore, directly over the Great Barrier Reef, on a stunningly sunny day. From 35,000 feet it is very easy to appreciate that below you are the largest living structures on the planet. The coral colonies were perfectly visible through the crystal clear waters. It was a humbling moment. Anyone who believes the world is here for ours to waste might think twice after taking in the same view. In a way, I'm almost grateful for my delay and reroute, since if I had taken my original Melbourne-Cairns flight, I surely would have missed that time over the Coral Sea.

The approach to Cairns was simply gorgeous as we glided in from the sea over sparsely-populated rolling hills covered with rainforests. After arriving in Cairns, I began to realise a sense of perspective regardling the size of Australia's population. Melbourne and Brisbane airports were both suprisingly small compared to what I would expect for capital cities. Both airports, if combined, were perhaps the size of Tampa airport. Cairns was little more than a runway nestled between gorgeous hills and the Coral Sea.

Cairns

The Bay Village shuttle bus met me at the terminal, and I had an interesting conversation with the teenage German driver about how Germans, Chinese, and Japanese have taken over Cairns tourism. I checked in, and soon ran off to the town centre in order to find some sandals before the shops closed. I didn't trust the airline to deliver my suitcase as expected, and I didn't plan on going on reef tours wearing boots I had worn in snow days earlier.

The town centre of Cairns is an appalling tourist trap. I was disappointed to have seen it, and hoped the worst of Australia was now behind me. It reminded me of the most commercial aspects of Florida, which I had moved away from and swore never to return to. The waterfront Esplanade was pleasant, and it was obvious the town had made an excellent effort modernizing the area. But the town's purpose as a tourist launchpad for all sorts of outdoor activities still managed to turn the centre into a year-round Spring-break atmosphere I had no interest in.

Luckily, I did find a nice pub near my hotel which seemed to deflect all the gaudiness around it. I watched the first half of a rugby game and sampled some Queensland lager. Once or twice, as the sports fans around me cheered on a game I didn't understand, I found myself repeating to myself 'Holy shit. I'm in Australia!'. Big smile on my face.

Back in my hotel by 9pm, I faded fast while watching Eddie Izzard interviewed on a Saturday evening Australian chat show.

Day 3

Cairns and Kuranda Sightseeing

The Skyrail bus arrived at my hotel on time at 8:30am, then proceeded to stop at every other hotel in the town. The bus filled up with all types of tourists; including the two that would haunt me all day: U.S. Air Force Dude and Loud Girl. Air Force Dude spent the bus trip asking the driver truly ignorant questions about Australia, while Loud Girl made sure we were all awake by speaking to Air Force Dude as if she we addressing the entire bus.

Back at my hotel, I found my suitcase still absent. On the phone, the friendly man at Qantas told me it was still in Sydney, and would be delivered by 11pm, and it was, providing me the fresh change of clothes I so badly needed.

Day 4

Cairns and Green Island Snorkeling

I arrived at the Cairns reef terminal shortly after 8:30am, and boarded a boat for a 5 1/2 hour day on Green Island. Green Island is a national park off the Carins coast. It does have a shallow reef, which I intended to snorkel as a 'warm-up' to snorkeling on the real reef off the coast of Mission Beach. I had decided against getting re-certified to SCUBA dive: I'm just as happy to snorkel and hold my breath for short trips under.

The boat was packed. As best as I could tell, it was me, a couple form Boston, 2 Aussie couples, and about 300 Chinese tourists. Those who deny that China will soon be the world's only superpower are Americans without passports who are in deep denial (I've already had one job go there).

The 70 minute trip out to the island was bumpy and hot. I sat on the sundeck as the masses clutched sick bags below. It was an another beautiful day in the low 90s, with occasional sunshowers cooling the way. When we arrived at the island, the masses scurried off into the jungle and the beach, and I headed to the snorkelling area. The tourists stuck to the beach, clutching life jackets, and I shared the abused shallow coral with the other 6 English-speakers on the trip.

Day 5

Cairns and Mission Beach

I can still spend the day underwater without a second thought, but the body doesn't recover quite so quickly. Up at 6am, my calves were not happy. I've also observed that the scalp burns a bit more quickly when your hair has started to thin. With a few more days in the water to follow, I was already planning a deep tissue massage in Sydney.

I checked out of the Bay Village resort after a pleasant stay and made my way to the Cairns Central Rail station, where I boarded the 8:35am Sunlander service to Brisbane; I would be alighting at Tully. The 3 hour journey South consisted mostly of rolling hills and endless fields of bananas and sugar cane fields. Sunshowers broke up the journey several times.

I spent the time listening to Triple J radio, which was a station I had enjoyed from Chicago for nearly a year via a low-quality Real Audio connection. I was pleased to recognize most of the music, in hi-fi for the first time. Commerical radio in the U.S. sucks balls; Triple J and bFM in Auckland will be my choices for the significant future.

Day 6

Mission Beach

Unfortunately, the seas were a bit rough today. The kayaking trip I had planned to Dunk Island was cancelled. Panicked calls to dive boats and water taxis in the area revealed that just about everyone had cancelled their operations for the day, in part due to the weather, in part due to low bookings. I was faced with a full day with nothing to do. Now, for many people, this is an easy task, but for an urban American, it's a bit upsetting. I realised I'm a very driven person: I require accomplished goals to thrive. Just kicking back is hard. Thankfully, after 5 days in the tropics, I was beginning to stop thinking about work, and had started to put my mind into a lower gear.

Mission Beach and Beaver Cay Marine Sanctuary

Opening my drapes this morning didn't fill me with hope. The waves were just about the same as the day before. I had booked with a dive company to see the reef, but when the phone rang, I knew it was bad news. Another cancellation had me scrambling to find anything to do that day. Luckily, another reef tour company was running, despite having told me the day before that they were not. In 20 minutes I was on their dock and quite relieved that I would finally be getting out to the Great Barrier Reef.

The trip to the the Beaver Cay Marine Sanctuary took about 2 hours, during which time the passengers did one of two things; enjoy the scenery or vomit. Granted, the seas were high, about 1.5 meters, but I was suprised at the number of people feeling ill. I guess my inner ear balance is better than normal, since I enjoyed the ride in the same sick way I enjoy turbulence on airliners.

Mission Beach to Cairns Airport

The van stopped in Innisfail to take on passengers. There, I saw the first aboriginals I'd seen. Maligned and neglected, it seems they rarely find their way into the larger cities. Their history was not part of my holiday, but I trust there was much to learn.

At Cairns airport, due to the timing of my transit, I had 3 hours to kill in the Qantas Club Lounge. The coffee machine kept me happy, and I gave Telstra $14 for my first dose of the Internet in over a week.

CNS-SYD / Qantas 925 / Domestic Business Class / A330-200 / Seat 2A

This was my first journey on board a widebody Airbus. My first observation was how unaccomodating it was towards my large carry-on bag. But the interior was well designed, and after takeoff I did agree that the cabin was significantly quieter than the 767.

As my lunch of salmon, mashed potatoes, and mixed green salad was served, I managed to spill white wine into the lap of the passenger next to me. It was one of those moments everyone has seen and quietly shaken their heads too. As my lunch tray was handed to me, I lowered it too quickly, and it brushed my seatmates wine glass, spilling the contents directly into his groin. In typical Australian style, he was graceful in accepting my 30 apologies, but I had already become the American klutz who really had no place in Business Class.

The remainder of the flight was pleasant, and 'Oceans 12' kept my mind unchallenged and numb to nearly the end of the flight.

From the airport, my taxi made it's way though Friday afternoon traffic to The Manor House Hotel. I was very pleased with my room, small, but well appointed, with a spa bathtub and a wonderful balcony overlooking Flinders Street. After a long day of sitting and staring, I made a quiet evening in my room and catched up on the world though via ADSL. Mmm.. double murder 3 blocks from my house in Chicago, lovely.

Day 9

Sydney

Sydney on Foot

Day 11

Sydney and the Taronga Zoo

The tops of my ears are now peeling from my Queensland sunburn, not to mention my chest.

I began the day by taking a trip to the American Airlines ticket office in North Sydney to see if I could extend my holiday. No luck. That's a problem with free seats to Australia: you have to book them 11 months in advance and what you book is what you get.

North Sydney enjoys larger hills than Sydney proper, which give it a bit of a San Francisco feeling. I stopped in a Shakespeare's pie shop for my second Australian Meat pie of the journey, and was not disappointed. The sausage roll, on the other hand, was something I'll leave to the natives. I walked for nearly 2 hours, from North Sydney to Neutral Bay, before catching a bus to my main destination of the day, the Taronga Zoo.

Sydney and the Beach

Day 13

Sydney and The Blue Mountains

The return train was distressingly hot, and I realised I had not kept up with my hydration. My insect bites finally stopped itching today, but the skin around them was beginning to peel, leaving tanless spots on my arms which I couldn't stop picking at. Oh well, I've never had a perfect complexion, why should today be any different.

Day 14

Sydney Shopping and The Sydney Aquarium

Sydney Airport

I arrived at Sydney's International terminal a good 3 hours in advance of my departure. With no other international flights checking in, there was no queue at the First Class checkin counter. I was checked in promptly by a very professional Qantas agent.

Sydney does not have a Fast Track customs/security line for First/Business class passengers, so my only queue of the day was the 15 minutes I waited to have my passport stamped. Beyond customs control, the security check was quick, and I found myself in the maze of duty-free selections.

I've always been amazed at the American concept that tightly controlling access to alcohol makes a better society. In reality, the more you restrict something, the more people want it, and are likely to end up abusing it. In the duty-free shops at Sydney airport, you are frequently offered samples of the alcohol, which led me to purchase some gin from New Zealand. You'd never see this sort of marketing in the paranoid U.S.A., for fear that a 20 year-old might actually taste alcohol and be sucked into a life of sin.

The Qantas First Class lounge has been the subject of frequent disappointment on Flyertalk. Only having the American Airlines Flagship Lounges to compare, I would have to agree. American lacks quite a bit in the premium product, but I've always been impressed with the Flagship Lounge. I'd found the staff to be excellent, and the food and liquor selections to be on par with the expectations of a First Class passenger.

The lounge was clean and well-designed, yet the alcohol was mid-range and the food (at 1pm) was nothing to write home about: cheeses, cold cuts, meatballs and marinara, and a selection of nuts, chips, and pastries. Not having eaten at all yet, I didn't inspect the beer and wine selection; the free gin and tonic at the duty free shop put enough spring in my step to last until I was onboard.

After boarding, I was greeted with a dish of olives and a glass of Dom Perignon Vintage 1996. The captain informed us this was a full flight, and there would be a 15 minute delay as our weight necessitated cargo movement from one compartment to another. During the delay, the champage was refilled promptly, several times, which had me buzzing well before the engines. As with my outbound journey, squawky toddlers filled the seats behind me, and I shared a frustrated glace with the man seated across the aisle.

As we taxied out to runway 34L, we paused for about 5 minutes at the head of the runway to allow several commuter planes to land. From the 7th window on the left side of the plane, I spent 5 minutes staring at the Sydney skyline, for the last time.

I'm proud of my emotions. I treasure having had a life of joy and sadness and anger and fear. People who live life without these feelings, this full range of emotions, do not really know a full life. There's so much I love about my life in Chicago; but ending the best holiday of my life concentrated the summary of 2 weeks of feelings which were too strong to subdue. My eyes, with the sight of the Sydney skyline, filled up as the big metal tube roar forward. With a great effort, 397 tonnes roared into the sky, As the coastline approached, and we moved offshore, I felt a great surge of sadness. Australia is a difficult country to leave.

After takeoff, we were served canapes, which included a chunk of seared tuna, and something I can only describe as olivey and cheesy.

My dinner meal began with a carrot/dill soup which was topped with a prawn salsa. Next came the salad: proscuitto-wrapped fig stuffed with blue cheese and topped with balamic vinagrette. The taste of this was absolutely amazing. For my main course, I choose a seared kingfish with jasmine rice and asian greens. An Australian Reisling wine accompanied my meal. My dessert choice was a selection of 3 cheeses with crackers and dried fruits.

During the flight I watched The Incredibles, as well as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, for the second time. There's something about that movie I truly love; it just strikes me as a metaphor for so many things lost or never had in life, perhaps in my own.

I struggled to sleep despite the bed and soothing cabin lighting. I suspect I managed about 4 hours of sleep, and 3 hours of lying in bed thinking.

Day 16

The breakfast offering was roughly the same as my outbound flight. I selected mango juice, coffee, mixed fruit, muslei, followed by a main of scrambled egg, sausages, raisin toast, potato cake, and smoked salmon.

Our approach in the L.A. was much like most of my previous arrivals in California. The sky was a lifeless hazy brown, and the L.A. area seemed to stretch on and on and on. We landed to the West, and the 747-400 touched down just as gracefully as ever.

Los Angeles Layover

The skybridge was placed behind the Business Class cabin, allowing Business Class to deplane first, followed by First Class, then Economy. After a passing immigration without a queue, I was pleased to see First and Business Class had their own baggage carousel, which produced my bag suprisingly quickly. Customs officials seemed uninterested in me as always, and after rechecking my bag, I was attacked by someone wanting money for some good cause.. a la 'Airplane'.

The next obstacle, clearing security at LAX was a usual nightmare. The security staffed yelled at everyone they could, especially the man who accidentally stood in the wrong line. I'm amazed he wasn't shot on the spot, considering their tone of voice to him. To O'Hare's credit, I have always had a great experience passing their security checks. I guess my hateful relationship with L.A. creates a self-fulfilling prophesy: I think L.A. will cause me pain, therefore, L.A. causes me pain. the holiday is definitely over.

On to the Flagship Lounge in L.A., which I had not yet visited before. Very well-designed and spacious. Top shelf alcohol such as Moet and Chandon Brut Imperial Champagne, Grand Marnier, and 3 types of Grey Goose backed up my contrast to Qantas's understocked lounge. Snacks included fresh veggies and sushi with generous slabs of salmon. I enjoyed a little over an hour here before my connection to Chicago. Despite wanting to get home, I was glad I didn't skip this lounge and attempt to get an earlier onward connection to Chicago. I spent my hour drinking breakfast bubbly, listening to Triple J's Hottest 100 CD, and watching the overweight gentleman next to me eat no less than 15 of those pre-wrapped laughing cow cheeses.

LAX-ORD / American Airlines 1102 / Domestic Business Class / 737-800 / Seat 3A

It was a bit disappointing to find myself on a 3.5 hour flight leaving at 12:30pm and only receive a snack service. The post takeoff drink was accompanied by a mixed nut selection which now included the gassy, nasty soynuts. The lunch 'snack' choices were a roast beef sandwich and a cheese pizza. I choose the pizza, since I was certain of it's consistency, having had it at least 20 times before. It's not really first class fare though, which was disappointing. It was served with a tiny romaine salad with shredded radish and two slices of red bell pepper. The man seated next to me choose the roast beef sandwich, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes when he lifted his bread up to reveal the gray meat beneath.

Since it was a 737, we did have a movie and the standard boring CBS fare. I choose the Chapelle Show on my laptop rather than 'Finding Neverland', the feature film.

We landed on time, and made my way home, a little depressed, but quite refreshed.

Afterthought

Shortly after my holiday, a friend asked me to describe what was so wonderful about my trip. I think he was trying to determine if I was just estatic about merely having a long holiday, or if there was something truly different and amazing about my Australian experience. At the time, I struggled to come up with a convincing argument as to why I was so in love with Sydney, and the people I had met there. The following Monday, I began to arrange in my mind a series of small things, when compounded, created that argument.

Each day, when I commute to and from work, I endure a repeated sequence of 'little things' that, taken separately, seem small; but together, wear me down into a shell of a man. On the train, a headless voice on the train reminds me to be on a heightened state of alert (you are not safe). I am warned to watch my step and hold the handrails (you can't sue us now if you slip). Signs everywhere remind me to look both ways before crossing train tracks, and that platforms are slippery (you have no common sense). I turn on the radio to hear the headlines: 'Is Demi Moore pregnant?' (Pretend this is important so we won't have to trouble you with the real news). I exit the train and am bombarded by indoor billboards wrapping the entire train station. It's all my eyes can see. This week they want me to drink Tropicana orange juice. Last week McDonalds wanted me to eat their salads by enticing me with a 40 foot high head of lettuce. It's impossible to look away. More ads walking to my building. There, Jenny Craig can help me loose the weight. Between home of my office I have already seen 100 advertisements. I strain to fill my mind with a sense of calm, yet it has already overloaded.

And there, I had found the difference I couldn't earlier quantify. During my stay in Sydney, I saw very little of what grates on me. People were nicer. I could breathe on a Sydney street (metaphorically). Granted, many of the annoyances of life can be found in any city, but the U.S., which prides itself on freedom, liberty, and (insert Bush-ism here), seems blind to the greed and commercialism that is transforming us from humans to rabid consumers. If this is the American way, then perhaps I've had enough.