Pig and the OliveSunday
August 10, 1997
Elizabeth Bay, SydneyWhirlwind tour of Sydney is almost over. We got bumped out of the hotel in Darling Harbour, and ended up staying in one called the "Manhattan" in Potts Point, or you can stretch the euphemism and say Elizabeth Bay. Or you can tell the truth and say Kings Cross. We were a short walk (and I stress the short part) walk from the Cross. And yes, it was everything and more I had heard about the Cross. We did the tourist stuff, saw the bridge, the opera house, Darling harbour, the Northern Beaches, The Blue Mountains.
After a harrowing time with complicated airport carparking facilities at nine o'clock at night, we're here in the departure lounge waiting for Phillip to show up with our tickets. I wish I had a laptop, but I long-handing it. Everyone looks a lot worse for wear, not the same bright, excited bunch that assembled at Tullamarine on Friday morning. Turned out of our accomodations at 10am, and nowhere to rest until the airport at 9pm, we had all had a long hard day. (We left the hotel at 7:30am, but that's another story.)
Three of our group, scheduled for an earlier return, missed their flight because Phillip didn't show up with the tickets. They had to wait for us (three hours) in the hope that they could join our flight. Considering the football crowd that had assembled for our flight, I was getting a little concerned that the plane was going to be packed to the rafters again. In any case our flight was set to take off at 9:35pm, and Phillip didn't show at the airport until twenty five past. So we crammed on the plane, squeezed our ample bulk into stingy economy seats, and made our way back home.
Thank god
For my Listening Pleasure
Grace
Jeff Buckley
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