Having landed in Brisbane we had an hour to kill, and managed it rather well in a Watermark bookshop, which announced itself as a cafe and wine bar. I didn't pick up any evidence of a wine list, so my rather tasty beef pie got washed down with the stuff that fish do unmentionable things in. Watermark was just down the way from Gate 22, so after lunch we made our way back, snaffling a couple of seats before the crowd congregated. Just as well. The flight was one of those out of Sydney and heading straight back affairs and had been late arriving.
It seems the Standard Operating Practice among discerning travellers is to arrive at the Gate around five minutes before the advertised boarding time. When available seating is significantly less than the aircraft capacity this doesn't appear to be a smart move when your flight is delayed by around twenty minutes.
We'd managed to secure Seats E and F on both legs, with Madam claiming the window on the leg into Brisbane, which meant I felt justified in claiming it this time around. The plan was to get a look (and maybe a photo) of the bush fires, but I was absorbed in Clochemerle for most of the flight and by the time the request to turn off electronic devices came over the PA the view out the window revealed a wall, or in this case a carpet of what appeared to be fluffy white cloud.
Which it may well have been, at least on top. As we started on the descent, however, the whitish fluff turned into grayish murk that lasted all the way through the descent that turned into a loop past the Harbour Bridge and the Opera house, around the outside of Bondi and a gentle arc that had all the hallmarks of an over the sea holding pattern.
Understandable, if that's the way it was.
On the ground, seated at the rear of the aircraft we had a good view of the luggage unloading operation while those in front of us accomplished their egress, noting The Black Monster and Madam's Red Bag were numbers two and three down the conveyor belt. Fat lot of good that did us. By the time we made our way to Baggage Collection most of the crowd had dispersed, and The Monster, the second item to be claimed, had probably made the circuit around the conveyor belt in there at least three times.
The night's accommodation had been the matter of some discussion, but it's a transit stop before an early morning flight, so we booked ourselves into the Meriton Serviced Apartments at Zetland after a $20 cab fare. Inquiries at Reception revealed the presence of Thai and Italian eateries a short walk away, along with the magic words bottle and shop.
There were devices that needed a recharge, so I wasn't inclined to resume work on the Travelogue, what with the lack of an accessible power point. Instead, with Madam in blog mode, I set off to scope out the neighborhood, which is heavy on unit developments and light on eateries and such.