Travelling

In the past I have been a bad traveller on planes*, turning up in the nick of time, waiting anxiously in the queue to check-in, cursing the idiots who leave it to the last minute to turn up and ask questions.

But you can’t travel like that with kids.

And so I am a converted traveller. I am writing this while sitting in the lounge of Gate 3 in the Qantas Domestic terminal at Tullamarine. I am at the airport THREE HOURS EARLY. This may have something to do with my last two flights being with Tiger**, but just may be to do with an increasing level of maturity. Turning up at the last minute in a total panic is a crappy way to fly. Being suspended in the air in an enormous lump of metal is stressful enough, but if you get on the plane in a total flap, then it multiplies the level of angst to the gazillion.

Hence my super early arrival. I also decided to park my car off-site this time, which added an extra element of anxiety, as I’ve never used that option before. The brain is a wonder of imagination, but sometimes it can be over-active. I can recommend parking away from the airport, and I can recommend booking your car into A1 Airport parking. Very easy, courteous people, fast***, and right to the door of the terminal. And all I have to do when I get back is ring them up and they will come and get me! And two days for $20 through RACV, not $77 at the airport in ‘long term parking’.

I’ll see how I go at the other end when I fly back to Melbourne out of Perth, a city I’ve never been to before. I’ll probably be there even earlier!

* Just the arriving part. Not the actual flying part. I LURV that!

** *shudders. Four horrific, delayed, crowded, delayed, dirty flights. Don’t do it.

*** We were definitely speeding.

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