No. 177

Flying Into The Future: In Los Angeles yesterday, we boarded two time machines. The first was the crumbly and worn Spaceship Restaurant in the middle of LAX, the subject of unending, well-meant attempts to restore it to its “former glory.” Thus allowing it to reclaim its rightful spot in the world pantheon of circular restaurants on stilts. I had a spaceburger with spaceacodo and space bacon and Amy had mushroom ravioli that was swimming in some kind of salty spacesauce. Not recommended.

The other time machine was the Virgin Australia flight that left LAX at December 30 and somehow landed 14 hours later on New Years Day in Sydney. Where did New Years Eve go, you ask? I wish I could tell you because we were feeling a little cheated until we realized that - to hell with the champagne – we’ll be the first people we know to watch the sun rise on 2010. Sore necks and swollen ankles seem a small price to pay.

And so it was that a travel day that had begun in 2009 with us dragging our luggage through Portland's slushy streets, skittered to an end in 2010 on the emerald green runways of New Zealand. It’s strictly shorts and sun tan lotion here today, with lots of people reminding us that New Zealand’s got the highest rate of skin cancer in the world on account of that unfortunately situated ozone hole, “so yeed betta get ah floppy hat straight away.” Point taken. Although not quite today as we wandered unprotected around Auckland’s summery streets, enjoying the honeymoon of our honeymoon, that marvelous vacation space where there are no consequences and our return flight is forever away. Shimmering bays, leafy parks and meat pies everywhere; Auckland I'm afraid we’ll barely notice you, but Happy New Year all the same.