Reposting of an old favourite recounting (in a somewhat heretical way) a particularly unpleasant journey from Papua New Guinea to India for a workshop last year. The original post somehow got corrupted about six months ago and I haven’t gotten around to reposting it until now.
Sorry for the lack of new material- there’s been a lot going on lately so I hope to have some more things to post before too long.
THE BOOK OF JOURNEYS
1And so it came to pass, in the last year of Bush the Inadequate, while the nations of the world gathered together to play silly games, that he who was called Verbose travelled in the East. 2On the tenth day of the eighth month, Tristan travelled from the port of Moresby, that most wretched of hovels, to the great City of Angels, which is called Krupthep and Bangkok. Although the distance to travel was not great, the journey was an arduous one, for the travel agent had booked Tristan through the cities of Brisbane and Sydney first, for she was an inept sow. 3And so it was that although Tristan left the Port of Moresby early in the morning, by nightfall the GPS screen on his in-seat flight entertainment system showed that he had only just returned to the same latitude as Moresby. He was watching the GPS screen because the rest of the flight entertainment system had stopped working, and long and arduous indeed was the journey. 4And Tristan cursed his travel agent. But he also rejoiced, for although it was a codeshare flight, he was travelling in a BA jet and not a Qantas one, and thus had no fear that bits would drop off the plane in mid-air.