Beyond My Control

No One to Blame but Myself

In the category of Things One Knows Instinctively But Doesn’t Examine Until Slapped In The Face With The Cold Hard Facts falls the revelation this morning that in the 12 months to June 30 I took off exactly 6 days.  

This day, this day and 4 days when the office closed between Christmas and New Year.

I have over 12 weeks of leave accrued and am 7 months off accruing another 8 weeks in the form of Long Service Leave. 

Clearly I need help.

My name is Uli, and I am a workaholic.

Weekendy

It’s generally a sign of a good weekend when Monday morning finds me:

-          with more than $15 worth of coins in my purse, a sure sign of some pub-related activity

-          having not eaten a single meal at home since last Wednesday

-          with pretty hair

-          looking forward to going to bed at about 8pm tonight following a dinner of vegemite toast

The weekend included a night sitting around at Frey’s getting, well, quite drunk; curing any residual seediness with the combination of a Big Mac and three hours in the hairdressers chair; a Sri Lankan buffet dinner; David Bridie at the pub with friends (I will be picking up the new album upon release July 26^th); Sunday sleep-in and then brunch on Sydney Rd with the papers; Sunday afternoon lazing around reading and, perhaps, napping; a catch-up with Boofhead and a dinner at his local.

Now, if only my flipping football team had have won…

 

Home

36 hours.

From leaving my hotel to arriving home sweet home.

After spending the best part of 10 hours in the lounge at JFK, with an ongoing lightening/torrential rain storm settling in over the airport and closing it for several hours, I eventually flew to LA, and then, having missed my connection by about 7 hours, on to Sydney, transferring to the domestic terminal and catching a flight to Melbourne, landing roughly that 10 hours after I was originally due to be home.

I have rarely been so grateful for a shower. 

Things could, however, have been far worse.  Several flights out of JFK, including two to London, were canceled and not due to be rescheduled for 24 hours.  That would have been really annoying.  Also, I flew business class all the way, so could actually get some sleep, and there was no problem getting me seats on the Sydney flight or the transfer to Melbourne. All of that was organised by the airline in quite a fantastic manner, I do have to say.  We got off the plane in LA and they had new boarding passes and bookings on the transferring flights, including seat allocations, waiting for us in alphabetical order at the desk by the gate for collection in about 10 seconds.  Had I been running around trying organise connections, or stuck in LA waiting for today's flight to Melbourne, or had I been doing the trip in economy, without access to the Qantas club in each of the three airports, I'd hate to think what state I'd be in.

And while there was no food but chocolate biscuits between New York and LA because in the shut down of the airport they'd had to shut down all power on the plane for several hours and couldn't then use the food,  after numerous hours of cheese and crackers in the lounge, I was just so tired - we eventually took off at 2am local time - and generally over it that the lack of a meal was more a blessing than a curse allowing me and everyone else to go straight to sleep instead of being disturbed through dinner service.

I was not so grateful to open my bag when I got home and discover it had obviously spent considerable time on one or other of the rainy tarmacs - it was raining in Sydney too - as water had leaked through one patch of the usually exceedingly water proof bag, leaving a third of my clothes damp or wet and several items patched with maroon dye from I think one of my shirts.  Including a couple of new white t-shirts.  So the washing is now on.

Tomorrow it's straight back to the office, as I have a 10am phone conference and a then a 10pm one, dammit.  Back to normal then.

Travel is sooooo glamorous

I now enter hour 6 of sitting in the lounge at JFK Airport.

It could, certainly, be worse.  In many different ways.

I am sitting in the British Airways business class lounge - sorry, "Terraces", complete with sun lounge chairs indoors - with access to free booze and potato chips talking to a motorbike-riding, cheapskate, New York unloving, tax accountant and yet quite nice couple from the Gold Coast, an English business woman of about my age and a moustachioed American.  Could be worse.

Could be in the main lounge with no access to booze of any kind and surrounded by screaming children.

Could be one of the unfortunate passengers on flight 182 from London who have been sitting in their plane, landed, for three hours now, and unable to get to the gate.

Yes, JFK is closed due to heavy rain and, more importantly, lightening.

Typical of the super hot weather to finally break as I'm trying to leave.  And break it has. 

I've read half my book, nodded aimiably as my Gold Coast-based companions have explained how they haven't really enjoyed New York because they don't like to eat out or go out at night at all, read the blog of Betty's Indian trip from my PDA, drunk four strong bloody marys, and now resorted to digging the laptop out of the bag.  Next I'll be having a Diet Coke because caffeine will soon become a requirement.

Re the Diet Coke.  After four or five months of not touching the stuff, I've had two since I've been in NYC.  Neither have really done anything for me except take the edge off a hangover, so I'm confident I've kicked the habit.

On other NYC fronts, I've been carded twice since I've been here.  Not in an “ooh I think you look so young” way, but rather in a “nobody don’t get into this bar or buy any beer without being carded” way.

The amusing part was the girl who carded me buying beer in the drug store.  Not that she asked for ID, but rather that once having it she had to put the numbers into a calculator to figure out if I was of age. 

I really had to laugh. 

And carefully check my change.

There may be further updates depending on how long I am stuck here.  And, I suspect, whinging about wherever the hell I am diverted too whenever I get out of here.  If I do.

Stormy Weather

As I mentioned yesterday, it's been rather hot here in New York.  4 days of mid-thirties humidity and gusty winds that can only be described as "gross".  Which is what I have said every time I have stepped outside since I got here.

But there have been a couple of pay-offs to that. 

First, stumbling on to a giant one-day sale at Macy's today when we were forced to duck in there during our lunch break because it was so gross outside we could no longer stand it.  Result: two pairs of shoes and a dress for me, three shirts for my colleague. 

Second, having got back from dinner about half an hour ago with no signs of the weather breaking and the temperature still well over 30 at 9pm, I am now watching a fantastic weather-breaking thunder and lightening storm.

Really, it's quite impressive watching the storm and giant lightening bolts - continual rolling thunder as well - from the vantage point of my 16th floor hotel room.

And hopefully, in addition to the show, it means that it will in fact be cooler as promised tomorrow.