I’m in SFO, waiting for my flight to Sydney. Sydney, Australia. I’ve settled into the Red Carpet Lounge, as is my habit before (or during) overseas trips.

Australia. I haven’t really focused on that part of the trip, partly because it’s relatively short, but I’ve never been to Australia. And it’s very far away.

I’d meant to reread some of Bernard Lewis’ European Vision and the South Pacific before leaving, but didn’t get around to it: too much else to do. The Victorians I studied would have been disappointed: they found the time to read up before a trip.

I’m flying on to Perth via Virgin Blue, and apparently they don’t have one of those check-your-suitcase-on-through-to-your-destination arrangements with United. The woman checking me was apologetic, but since it pretty much guarantees that I’ll 1) have to go from the International to the Domestic terminals, and 2) this’ll give me a chance to spend a few hours in Sydney, I’m actually quite pleased.

I have no idea how my body is going to handle this flight. My body knows what to do when I go to Europe, but this is pretty alien– not to mention several hours longer than flights to Heathrow. We’ll just have to see how it goes. Since I feel like I can do some good work on planes, and since I’ve got a lot of work to do, my instinct is to push as hard as I can, then see what happens. I’ve got plenty of slack in my schedule to sleep when I need to.

[To the tune of Yes, “Hearts,” from the album “90125“.]

Technorati Tags: , , , ,