I was going to start with 'Here I go again on my own' but I’m pretty sure I started the last blog that way. I guess I should think of something new. Maybe "Have car, have credit card, will travel."

Remember my last blogged trip? Where I went to Utah (and New Orleans and Philadelphia) and had the most awesome time? I hired a muscle car and drove around all the national parks and did super cool stuff and told you guys all about it. And I had the green folder of awesomeness with every last bit of detail I could possibly need inside it. I had maps, driving times, distances, park information, all my reservations, everything. This was the OCD Virgo in me doing what I do best – plan. And make stuff happen precisely how I want it to so that everything is ultra easy and super amazing fun.

Well, I’ve been thrown a curve ball this time. I *did* have stuff planned. I *did* have reservations. But 48 hours before I was due to set foot on the plane, it all got thrown out the window. So what I now have are a bunch of flights and a car reservation. And not much else. What I’m saying is, I’m about to have a baptism of fire and see if I can in fact wing an entire holiday. I land in Boston tonight (3rd of August) and I have until 9pm on the 10th of August to do “stuff”. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I have a fair idea of the things I’d like to see. But there have been no maps, no print outs, no research, zip. I just kind of looked at google maps of the general north east America area and went “Yeah, that doesn’t look tooooo far from that…” 48 hours didn’t leave me all that much time when I still had plans to ride Gidget, go to the beauty salon, visit some friends, and go to Kaff’s house the day before I left. Oh, and pack. I also hadn’t packed until right before I left. Very unlike me. I’m usually packed two weeks in advance. So when I say ‘Watch this space and see where I end up’ I really freaking mean it. All I know is it’ll be places I haven’t been before.

Upon clearing LAX I stopped by my usual haunt “Euro Caffe” in Beverly Hills where I go to get the last good coffee I expect to have for the next three weeks. This is my ritual. I returned to LAX shortly thereafter, all caffeinated and borderline friendly. I set out for the airport yesterday (????) confident in the knowledge I had forgotten something very important. I’ve no doubt I’ll discover what it is at the opportune moment. I made it to America though so it can’t have been the passport I forgot. The flight was uneventful. A rare show of brotherly love found me upgraded to Premium Economy, which should’ve been delightful in every direction. I had an aisle seat but the man next to me very kindly swapped and let me sit at the window as he had no preference. Sadly, as I found out, he also liked to **** a lot, at a noxious level that made the aroma around him nearly visible. This turned out to be quite disruptive to the whole eating and sleeping in comfort thing. I set a new record and took three – yes, THREE – Temazepam before slithering into the coma I so badly wanted.



Disembarking from Premium Economy has to be worth the upgrade points though. I was one of the first off the plane and actually got through the Spanish Inquisition Hall with no queue!! A first!! Only took seven trips to America to accomplish this. Of course, I then still had to wait 20 minutes for my bags but that’s OK. Me and my iPod had a good time. This is also the first trip where I’ve had to select “Business” as the primary reason for my visit. I had some anticipation of being grilled on this point because, you know, green card shopping and all that. I was very surprised to only be asked where I was going, why, and who I worked for. I’ve only worked for the company for two months and after a 13 hour flight it was a stretch to remember the company name, let alone what I do there. "I think I spend a lot of time on webcam." Fortunately I managed to not say that. Then the grumpy b***** stamped my passport, slammed it shut and sent me on my way. Seriously. And I was the first person in the line for the day!! Customs only opened when we landed so I was literally his first visitor. Would hate to be the last one he sees on his shift. Anyhoo.

Doing a little more typing from inside the brand new 737-800 that I am taking from LA to Boston. It’s nice and shiny. By some stroke of good fortune – not my own – I have wound up in the front row behind business class. This means I can stretch my legs all the way out and not reach the wall in front of me. Groovy. The girl next to me has passed out and I can traipse in and out of my seat as much as I want and do pirouettes as I go and still not touch her. I have spent a good deal of time down the back yacking with the flight attendants. One of them was born in Adelaide. Raised in Scotland. Lives in America. It’s quite the accent. As most people in the service industry over here tend to quickly point out once they realise you’re Australian, they love how laid back we are. We get off a 14 hour flight, then jump another five hour flight, travelling through more time zones than Star Trek and we’re still friendly. And perky. Or in my case, sarcastic. But I’m pretty sure he can’t tell the difference. Much talk about guns. I like talking about guns.

I think my second wind has hit. Or possibly the eighth or ninth wind. Have lost count. I think I have three hours more of this flight then it’s hotel room heaven and the best thing ever, a hot shower!! I really hope I can sleep tonight. This insomnia thing has k*** on it.

Final update. Made it to my hotel room. Not tired, of course. Freaking insomnia...