I am a very lucky person. Like, super lucky. Like, going-to-Australia-for-ten-days-for-free kind of lucky. That's how lucky I am. An old friend of mine moved to Australia a few years ago, flies all over the world for work, racks up frequent flier miles, generously offered them to me and I generously accepted. I AM GOING TO AUSTRALIA!!!
The idea for the trip came up last year but because of my wacko job situation, I couldn't even consider it. Now things are stable, the job isn't going anywhere, the neighbor can watch the cat, and I can fly half-way round the world practically worry-free. I'll head out of LAX on November 7th and return on the 18th.
Unlike my trip to Paris, I'll have a guide in my friend who's lived in Melbourne for a while and knows about all the cool places to see. Not that wandering blind through Paris wasn't fun - cause it was - but there were moments here and there when I wondered if I'd ever find my way out of whatever alley/airport/train station/neighborhood I happened to be in. More than once, I was convinced that they'd find me and my over-sized backpack twenty years later, hunched over a trash fire in some forgotten corner of the Gare du Nord, roasting pigeons and muttering to myself.
ANYWAY, that's not going to happen in Australia. And if it does, at least I'll have some company.
The Explosive Neil and I are going to The Cat and the Fiddle tonight to say goodbye to a former co-worker. I haven't seen this girl in a while but I'm glad I'll have a chance to see her off. My favorite memory of her was the time I took her out for her birthday. This was a few years ago and she'd only been in LA a couple of months. She didn't know very many people so I invited everyone I knew to meet us at a bar in Hollywood. Half an hour into the party, she was very, very drunk. This was completely my fault. She told me she was done after a couple of drinks and I wouldn't listen. Three drinks after that, we were outside and I was holding her hair back while she threw up all over the sidewalk. After some copious vomiting, she straightened up, looked blearily around, and said, "This is amazing. I feel just like Bukowski. Thank you."
That's what happens when you get literary geeks drunk in Hollywood.