Shonky trip to Melbourne


This morning I was preparing to head out to the airport to catch my plane to Melbourne. I knew I had plenty of time since this was a domestic flight, but I was still planning to get there with a little more than an hour to spare. I was getting ready in a leisurely way, checking to make sure I had packed everything when I took another look at my itinerary and noted that it said “Terminal 1” on it. So I went to lookup this terminal and found that it was the international terminal, which seemed very odd since I was taking a domestic flight. Then I looked on the Jetstar airline site to find out that some of their domestic flights did indeed leave from the international terminal, and this meant that one had to arrive with the same amount of time one would give to an international flight.

Shit. Suddenly, I was late.

I jammed the rest of my stuff into my bags and bolted out the door, running towards the station. I arrived a sweaty mess at the airport, but in enough time to get my boarding pass (which they would not issue online) and get through security. And speaking of security, it was like 9/11 just happened a few months ago for them. Inconsequential things that I had dragged in my carry on from country to country, and between several continents, were suddenly dangerous tools of terrorism according to the over-eager security screening staff at the Sydney airport. They threw away my beard oil, my tiny beard trimming scissors, and they even threw away my 2/3rds empty tube of toothpaste. I wanted to ask the earnest 14 year old, shiny, barely post pubescent young man who was doing all the rechecking of my luggage if he had perhaps just completed his training and came in first in his class with a gold star in diligence. But instead I just asked him why, when I had taken all these things across so many countries I should be stopped now. He then had the nerve to tell me there was “NO WAY you would have passed security in the United States with this.” When I told him I had indeed done just that he said he did not believe me. I have decided that our power abroad (such as it is) must rest on numerous such assumptions about American thoroughness and toughness.

Fortunately, I was chatting with a very nice young man in line who offered me a free pass with him to the Quantas lounge, so we were able to relax with a coffee and muffin for a bit, have a conversation about travel, and quietly mourn the loss of my grooming supplies. The flight itself was uneventful, but it was kinda cool to ride for the first time in a Dreamliner, the windows in particular are fun to operate. Upon landing, it was unfortunately as if we had come from overseas, and we had to do the whole customs bullshit as we had to on the way out of Sydney. I would say this whole international instead of domestic thingy probably added a good hour to the trip. If you are ever flying Jetstar domestically out of Sydney, do your best to book one of the domestic terminal flights, you will be happier.