This Time, Hold the Carrots

I'm home.

I am still coming off of having to look at my watch every ten minutes and as a result am very anxious just sitting down. So I thought I'd write about the last portion of my trip for both my sake and for your entertainment.

Spending times with the Hutchissons was great. Leaving felt too soon but alas planes wait for no one. I ended traveling with an old Korean missionary couple who was headed to Cairns as well. While waiting four hours in the Port Moresby Airport the old man decided to bestow upon me his entire life story starting in 1974 to present.

That killed three hours. He bought me french fries though so I felt obligated to listen.

The flight to Cairns was simple enough; we flew over the Great Barrier Reef while landing. Cairns is like Jurassic Park and the airport is like the Command Center. I went to walk to the domestic terminal (from the international) and not only was it humid but there were parrots calling from the trees, whole neighborhoods of birds living up there, bats, insects screeching, the whole nine yards. I thought about what I would say to a raptor, had I encountered one. "Clever girl" seemed appropriate.

But rather than meeting a raptor I met the man who vacuums the airport at night. I never actually got his name but we became quite good friends. He informed me that the domestic terminal was closing and he was trying to save me a walk. I thought to myself, "He's the vacuum guy, what does he know?"

Well it was indeed closed. Walking back, I avoided seeing him so I wouldn't have to admit my fault. I wandered upstairs and searched for a bench to call my bed for the night. Turns out Vacuum man was now cleaning that floor. He rides by and stops his little ride-vacuum in front of my bench.

"You should try and get a taxi into town. It's better than sitting here hungry," he says.

"Yeah, we'll see," I replied. "My flight leaves early tomorrow so I can't go far. Thanks though."

He started his vacuum car up again and rides off. He comes back.

"There's a coffee shop that stays open in the domestic terminal when people arrive. The next flight gets in at 10pm so I'd recommend heading over at 9pm," He informs me.

"Oh? Thanks, I may head over," I say with no intention of actually doing so.

He rides off. This goes on for several hours. He took a liking to me I guess. He didn't seem like the social type...he does vacuum an airport at night.

Anywho I got about two hours of sleep that night. The airport is horrible to sleep in kinda like a 747 is bad to sleep in. Speaking of which I didn't sleep on the plane ride home. I did watch 7 movies though.

I got about 90gigs of interviews and footage while there. I'm excited to start editing. Thanks for praying for me I truly felt it. I look forward to my future travels!

Oh the carrot reference in the title refers to the Subway I ate in Brisbane on the way home. Last time, in August, the Subway sandwich I ate was a Italian meatball sub that they put carrots on. Truly the most disgusting thing I've ingested. I ordered the BMT this time around and said to put eveything on it. I glanced over and saw the carrots. "Um, except the carrots," I said in a hurry before she got to them.

It was a much better sandwich.

Your friendly neighborhood giant,
~Alan