Another day, another flight. Since the 7th of October, I have been on 10 airplanes on four different airlines (Qantas, Ansett, Delta, and United). That's a lot, even by my standards. I'm looking forward to getting home and staying there for a while, although actually I only get about a week at home before heading off to Stuttgart (at which point I'll begin a separate travel diary, since I've never been to Deutschland before either.) However, once I return from Stuttgart I'm not budging, except to travel for the holidays, until sometime in January. If I get really super-lucky, I can avoid going anywhere until Eric & Lee Anne's wedding in Austin. Keep your fingers crossed.

My trip from Adelaide to Melbourne was pleasant and uneventful, just the way I prefer. It's been raining a lot in Melbourne, so that was the local drama of the day. I also learned what the Cheesestick is supposed to represent. For those of you who haven't ever heard of it, the Cheesestick (its local nickname; it probably has a more refined proper name) is a big (probably 60') angled metal beam, painted Cheez-Whiz Orange, that overhangs the expressway from the city proper to the airport. It's flanked by two sets of upright red beams that look somewhat like teeth in a comb. My cabbie last night said that the whole shebang is supposed to represent cutting tools, to show that Melbourne is on the cutting edge of the new millenium. Really, that's what he said.

Right now I'm snug in a biz-class seat on UA 848, heading toward Los Angeles. We just ate lunch [sic, since it's just barely lunchtime in Melbourne], and I'm about to try to render an intelligent report out of my notes from my customer visit earlier this week. Then I have a smorgasbord of work to choose from: one column, one book chapter, one training module, and one white paper. Lucky me.

The good news: I get to sit near some of the light and sound crew for Ricky Martin, who just toured Australia. The bad news: they are a noisy bunch. Now they're snoring; while I was trying to sleep they were drinking beer and having a high old time. Consequently, when I'd like to be asleep I am instead wide awake and working. So far, I knocked off my customer report, this update, two tech edits, and the book chapter; shortly I'll start on the column that has to be done.

While trying vainly to fall asleep, it struck me that I hadn't seen a single ill-tempered or rude person the entire time I was in Australia. The closest I came was while taking a taxi in Melbourne; a car had suddenly changed lanes in front of a pair of bikers (or bikies, as the Aussies call 'em), and one of the bikies pulled up alongside the offender and explained, politely but very forcefully, that signals are important, mate. Even the interactions that Americans take for granted to be curt or, at best, brusque were pleasant: at hotels, on airlines, in taxi queues, and so forth, Aussies are a laid-back and pleasant lot.

Counterpoint: of course, I was on this airplane for about 2 minutes before I saw my first ill-tempered American, a fat bald guy who was in an unseemly hurry to get to his seat and was quite unhappy that there were others in front of him. Welcome home, I suppose.

Trivia note: dishwashers are a luxury item in Australia, and not too many folks have them. Microwave popcorn is unpopular, too. Must be something about being in the Southern Hemisphere.