Arriving In Sydney


Boarding a mosaic of patchwork symmetry the rows of seats sat empty awaiting their passengers. I clambered through to the end of the plane where the tail spoke a louder hum. Numbness set in early, the plane rumbled and briefly shook, accelerating weightless in the sky.

The overhead signage switched off providing freedom to some agitated passengers who showed a fear of Cathisophobia. Like horses at a starting gate, loud children climbed rows of seats dodging unsuspecting passengers as they played in their mid-air playground. The game had begun. Just as small child’s head disappeared behind a seat a replacement would take watch, giggling with a smile big enough to evoke reactions from the engaging crowd. The fiasco continued for a few hours before the screams broke my vanishing solitude.  I was surrounded and my head began to throb. My headphones didn’t seem to provide enough protection from the agony.

My small space was interrogated even further by my fellow passenger as his hairy leg recited a small child on a bouncy castle. Occasional jabs in the back from an uncomfortable commuter reminded me I was yet again in the class of cattle. My rejected upgrade was laughing at me from behind closed curtains towards the front of the plane.

Despite my “adventure” I managed to keep a sound mind, for I was on a journey – a window of opportunity which rarely showed.

Pastels of watery bliss began appearing in broken clouds. The big city awaited me, thick clouds lingered as golden hues shone lost in the darkening overcast sky. The slight dribble of rain could be seen as the descent unveiled my final destination.

I had arrived. Sydney was now my place, my pad and my home.

 

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