You're amazing. Most impressed with your domestic check-in in Sydney. Loved being greeted by the flying squadron line up of pristine machines eager to know my name. Tip. Tap. Continue, and I'm booked in for my flight. No queues. No waiting. 'Please make your way to the baggage drop off machine'. It feels like I'm in the future and about to be teleported aboard a galactic Starship orbiting the planet. But no, the reality is only a little less impressive - Port Macquarie.
I can tell I'm in Australia, everyone sounds... well... Australian - all those strong twangy accents and clichés that seem to typify them. Gotta love my Occa brothers and sisters - And I do Qantas; really I do, as I frequent your country often these days.
I'm grateful for the power outlet waiting for me as I found a seat - how did you know I'd already be needing it? I was only mildly miffed at the overpriced freshly squeezed juice and sammie I brought, reasoning that I was lucky enough to only be buying for one, though adding to that was one domestic transfer bus and an Optus sim card, by the time lunch was over you'd fleeced me of my first $52. I forgive you, because I'm good like that Qantas.
I'm the sole passenger thus far to be ready-to-roll at my gate. The lady voice from above informs everyone of the list of flights about to board, and to spice it up, gives them a quick gate change. Qantas, you seem a little confused to where you're parking your aircraft today. I'm semi expecting I'm going to have to lug my bag, and self, as felinely as possible from gates 3 to 652 any time soon! And while on the subject, I must say, I'm unsuccessfully trying to tune out the twangy lady voice from above who keeps telling me that Mr and Mrs Smith have not yet arrived to board their flight. Twangy voices seem to know the right decibels at boring into my brain.
You wouldn't read about it Qantas - well you would as I'm about to write it - no sooner had I finished the above sentence my flight was announced as boarding from ... you guessed it ... at a gate other than the one I'm currently lounging at. Fortunately Qantas, I was 2 gates away and only had minimalistic packing concerns - having to unplug my mobile which is attached to my laptop which is attached to your airport wall and shoving said items into my carry-on, pick up my unfinished over priced freshly squeezed juice, grab my handbag and hightail it on over to gate One (remember - like a lady). Can you believe I was the last to arrive? Well I was! All that took 4 and half minutes and I was the last!
Boarding a bus - a bus! Extra fun rides for my buck! The other 12 passengers and I are transported around the rabbit warren of Qantas Links little fleet to a teeny tiny little baba plane where my carry-on was too big to 'carry-on' and needed to be stowed - awwww.
Such contrast to your sister Jetstar, Qantas. She bumped me up into first class on my earlier flight today - meaning I was invited to sit at the front of the same room as everyone else and talk with the hostess. In this little pip-squeak two propeller plane you gave me a seat at the every back. But I didn't mind. Really I didn't, because I'm a relaxed traveller and I liked your dinki di plane, it's sooo cuuute.
In the air Dad came to mind, imagining him white knuckled, clenching his sphincter muscle, as I sat behind the wheels where I feel every dip and flip, and rode that tail like I was a leaping and hopping on a moonshadow (thanks Cat Stevens for reminding me of this mid-air).
But Qantas, you really needn't of bothered, with the 30 minute taxing into position we were almost there! It seemed a bit redundant to wind up those rubber-bands and fling us into the air only to prepare to land 10 min later.
But you won me. Even in a dollhouse house sized aircraft lasting all of 45 minutes you gave me a snack box!! Jetstar Pppphhhttt!